Taming the Queen of Beasts - Chapter 392

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GAR

“He has a gun!”

Rika’s voice, a bare breath, probably too low for even the human next to her to hear, made his ears quiver.

Gar dropped silently to the ground and began to scuttle to the side.

“He can see you.”

Then the footsteps—soft for a human, but still audible, started. The male moving around something within the tent as metal scraped against leather and Rika’s scent went spikey with fear.

Feet ground into dirt. “No!” she gasped, and the sound of skin hitting skin reached him a split second before a massive, ear-ringing boom and the tent fluttered.

“Rika! What the fuck!”

“There’s a man out there!”

“It’s an Anima, you idiot!”

Gar realized that she’d just saved his life and his heart stopped. But he didn’t have time to think as he scrambled to his feet and around the tent, staying in the shadows to try to avoid human eyes. But it was too late.

The two men and one woman in the camp had all leaped to their feet, or around to face the tent and were already staring.

The woman’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him first, but Gar didn’t have time. He had to get Rika out of here—they both had to get out of here.

Darting into the tent, he found Rika wrestling with John over a small handgun. A piece of technology that stank of metal and plastic lay at their feet and she kicked it stepping into the male, screaming at him to stop, but his eyes were wide, not just with fear, but also anger.

“You!” he snarled. “You are betraying us!”

“No! I just—”

Gar didn’t even think. He whipped forward, using a knife hand to break both their grips on the gun so it spun away to the other side of the tent. In the same movement he threw an arm around Rika’s stomach, and turning, smacked an elbow directly into the man’s temple, dropping him like a stone.

Rika screamed in fear. Gar ran for the gun, his foot kicking the little unit on the ground so it slid across the plastic floor to within a foot of the gun. Grabbing both, Gar kept Rika pinned under his arm, carrying her around the table towards the door of the tent.

She hissed, hitting at his arms and screaming like a cat. An excellent show of being frightened of him, Gar commended her. But he was getting her out of there. No need to convince the others of her innocence.

There was no time to speak of it, though, because he hadn’t reached the tent door when the two men appeared, wide eyed, one of them carrying a strange, yellow-plastic gun.

A weapon, he knew, that could drop a bull in its tracks.

There was no time to think.

Grabbing Rika to his chest, he turned, one heel whipping around to smack both the men’s hands and send the weapon skittering across the tent to disappear under one of the shelves. They both cried out and fell back, but another hand appeared at his ankle and Rika was still screaming.

It was instinct.

His mate was frightened. Men were trying to kill him. And he was cornered.

Gar dropped both Rika and the unit, but kept the gun, though he held it uselessly.

Spinning, he smacked the metal handle of the gun down on the back of the head of the male that lay on the ground, fingers clawed into his ankle. The man slumped, his skin opening at the back of his skull, blood flowing immediately as his grip went slack.

One of the males in the doorway shouted, grabbing Rika as she tried to push past them. Gar snarled, and leaped for the male, breaking the hold on Gar’s mate and yanking the male off his feet, dumping him to the ground, straight on his head, and whirling in the same movement to block a blow from the other male.

Metal flashed in the night dark to his other side, and Gar twisted instinctively, felt the brush of something against his hip, but caught the hand that had swung in a lightening grip and pulled it towards the other male, crashing the two bodies into each other and grabbing Rika to his chest as they fell.

Rika screamed and kicked, one hand clawing at his arms as if she wanted to escape. But all four humans were on the ground and groaning. Gar had a gun in one hand, and Rika under the other arm, while she gripped to her chest whatever that thing was that they’d been looking at in the tent.

Realizing he was free, but that people were still moving, Gar didn’t even think, he just ran.

Rika’s screams didn’t even register, his ears too busy trying to pick out the sound of pursuing footsteps as he sprinted out of the camp and down the trail.

Her kicks and cries were a good cover. It would allow the humans to believe she hadn’t come willingly, so he didn’t shush her as they ran.

A minute later she stopped screaming, but her breath heaved in and out of her chest and her fingers clawed at his arm, scraping his skin. He doubted any of the humans could see them now, but he was too busy moving and listening to tell her to relax, until another minute had passed, and he finally slowed, ears perked and nostrils flaring.

But there was no sound of pursuit.

Thank the Creator. He’d gotten her out.

Stumbling to a halt, breathing hard as much from fear that she’d been hurt as from the run, Gar held her close one more second, but with still no sounds of anyone following, he lowered her to the ground slowly.

“Well done, but you can’t stop now. I don’t think they’re—”

The moment her feet hit the dirt, she was scrambling away from him, clutching that thing to her chest, sobbing, eyes wide and silvered with tears. But she tripped and landed on her butt, still sobbing, dragging herself backwards, one arm curled around that thing, the other pulling her away from him.

“Rika, what—?” He stepped towards her and she screamed again.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!”

Gar froze.. His mate lay on the ground, tears tracking down her beautiful, soft cheeks, staring at him like he was going to kill her.