Taming the Queen of Beasts - Chapter 390

GAR

Gar had had an inkling of the matebond even that first night when she’d laughed. Just laughed. Because she laughed with her whole body, and as the sound of her glee made his heart quiver, the brush of her body against his woke up his blood.

He’d looked at her, shocked, as something within him, a seeking, yearning kind of heat, threaded out of his pulsing heart, coiled through his veins, and reached for her.

His fingers had twitched with the urge to touch her, but before he could seek her approval, her eyes had gone wide with alarm.

Stupid fucking male that he was, he’d misread her increasing heartrate and tang of fear, assuming she’d heard something or seen something that frightened her. When she’d suddenly scrambled off the bed, he’d followed her in a rush, taking her arm in his hand and pulling her behind him to put himself between her and whatever had frightened her.

But she’d shrieked and clawed at his grip, fighting like a cat, until he hurriedly released her and turned, shocked to find her half-crouched, breathing through her teeth, and clearly prepared to defend herself.

“Keep your hands off me!”

He’d raised his palms so she could see them. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well you did! Back off!”

He’d dipped his head and taken a couple steps back, his hands still up. When her body relaxed a hair, he stopped and held her gaze. “Rika, I know we have only just met, but you are safe with me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said hurriedly, but she said it through her teeth, and she didn’t relax her stance. “I just want some space. You’re… you’re getting in my space.”

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, taking another step back. “I truly didn’t mean to upset you. I… I have enjoyed our conversation. I would never harm you.”

She snorted and muttered, “That’s what they all say,” under her breath in a way he guessed he wasn’t supposed to have heard. But she’d underestimated the anima hearing.

His brows pinched over his nose. “A male has promised you safety and… harmed you?” he said cautiously.

Her face went hard, her lips pinched to thin lines. Her heart still beat mercilessly in her chest and he thought her hands would be shaking if she didn’t have them balled into fists.

“I told you my father was… aggressive.”

“So is mine, but I do not flinch when he moves,” Gar said thoughtlessly, still deep in attempting to understand her actions. Gahrye had been right. Humans were weird.

“Lucky you, I guess,” she sneered, and the venom in her voice—venom borne of deep pain, a quality in her tone that he recognized in his own bitterness and fear of his own inadequacy—hit him right in the chest. His heart throbbed.

“I am sorry, Rika,” he said breathlessly. “I never meant to—”

“Just leave me alone.”

More wounded than he had a right to be, he’d backed off to somewhere near the cave mouth and sat down alone, to give her the space she wanted.

At first she’d just stared. Then she’d begun to pace.

A very long time later, as the rain eased and the sun was coming up, and he knew they would have to determine how they were going to farewell, she finally walked closer to him, her eyes still wary, but the rest of her more relaxed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t… thank you for not… I mean for being… nice.”

Gar snorted. Nice was not a word that most people associated with him.

“You’re welcome. And you need to know, Rika, no matter what… you need never fear for your safety around me. I will stand to protect you, not to harm you. Always.”

She’d looked very skeptical then, shaking her head and murmuring something under her breath about “lines” and “cocky men.” He just waited.

When she realized he was staring, she folded her arms. “You’re a total stranger to me, Gar. I’m not going to sit there with you and be all buddy-buddy and just roll onto my back, or whatever. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t eat me. So, thanks. But… but this isn’t… we aren’t…”

The words were a spear in his chest, and that was when he realized what this thing was that he’d been feeling.

As she sat there and told him—at length—about how she couldn’t engage with him, or any other Anima, that she had to be a distant observer and not impact their lives or habits, he barely took in the words.

She was his mate. He was certain of it. The moment he thought the word, his heart sang and that tug happened again, that pull towards her, as if she’d attached a cord to his skin and was pulling him.

He’d been suddenly terrified to say goodbye.

Gar shook his head and blinked back to the present, to the sight of Rika’s back in the moonlight as she lugged that huge water can back to her camp. As his heart thumped with relief and joy because he was near her.

Thank you, he prayed silently to the Creator, not for the first time. Thank you for bringing her. Thank you for showing her to me. Now… can you show me to her?

Rika’s hair fluttered down her back as she walked, the waves playing in the air of her passage. He yearned to reach for it, but just then, Rika hesitated, looking back over her shoulder and down the trail, as if she thought he might be behind her. But before he could decide whether to reveal himself, she turned back towards the camp and took two steps… then disappeared completely out of sight in a blink.

And when he sucked in a gasp, scrambling forward to the point in the trail where she’d been just a second before, he couldn’t smell her.

It was as if she’d disappeared into mist before his eyes.