224 Bare Your Teeth – Part ~ TARKYN ~

Zev stabbed a finger towards the ground. “I want to fight power that would take everything from me!”

Tarkyn let those words hang in the air for a moment so Zev could hear them over and over. Then he nodded. “I understand.”

“You don’t have a fucking clue.”

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Tarkyn took the two, quick strides that would bring him toe-to-toe with the wolf. “I can count in days the time since my mate was almost taken from me,” he snarled. “A person I knew and trusted had thrown herself headlong into fear and threatened to tear us apart. The mate I have waited my entire life to find. The only mate I will ever receive. The answer to all my prayers—for decades… I’d barely gotten my arms around her and she was pulled away from me.”

They stared at each other, both glaring, but Tarkyn took hold of himself. He wouldn’t vent rage on this pup. He would teach him.

“You know… if you were my son, do you know what I would have shown you?”

Zev’s eyes narrowed. “Enlighten me.”

Tarkyn growled, but didn’t drop his gaze. “I would have shown you, without fail, that your pain is your pain. That no one else will ever truly know it and neither should they try to take it from you. That no one else will ever walk the same road, or experience the same pains, and no matter how another’s pain measures against yours, it does not dismiss or marginalize your struggle… But that their pain is equally their own—and you cannot diminish theirs, either.

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“So, yes, Zev, you’re right, I don’t understand everything you’ve faced. Neither do you understand my life. But this isn’t a competition. Whether you have hurt more than me or not, whether your wounds leave larger scars or not… the point isn’t who has hurt more, but how we would face the pain we carry now.

“You’re here, son. You’re finally here—a place where you can be safe. A place where you and your family can grow and thrive without the constant threat. And yet, you bare your teeth at it, warning us away. Do you think you are the only warrior who has struggled to walk away from the fight?”

Zev looked at him warily, but Tarkyn plowed on. “That’s a feeling I truly understand,” he said quietly. “That feeling in your skin when all you know is the fight. That heart that shoves you forward, convinced there is an enemy watching. The body that only feels strong when it holds a weapon—or wields one. That hollow, aching fear that this is all there is for you—and the joy in that moment when you catch a glimpse that it isn’t.

“You think I don’t know you, Zev? How about this: I know that the moment you held Sasha as truly your own, you found your purpose. Am I right? That was the moment the world shifted. And I’m willing to bet that as long as you’re fighting for her, everything feels right. But right now, in this moment, it feels like she’s abandoned you. And suddenly… suddenly you don’t know who you’re fighting for anymore, because you need an enemy to fight and she can’t be it. But she’s the one who stood you down…. Right?”

Zev remained silent. But for the first time, Tarkyn caught a thread of grief mingling with the simmering anger.

“So, you have a choice, Zev. You can hold onto that volcano of rage inside you and let it burn down everything and everyone around you—including your mate. Or you can take one more risk. Clasp one more offered hand of friendship and give us a chance to show you that we don’t come to hurt you.”

Zev huffed. “You say that like it’s simple. If you’re lying it would be too late by the time I found out.” Then he blinked and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m listening to you. This is ridiculous, I’m listening to the very male that would kill me if I resist and you want to talk to me about trust?” He gave a desert dry, bitter laugh.

But Tarkyn’s heart stopped. Because that simple statement made it all clear. He blinked.

Zev was right.

Tarkyn had told Elreth days ago that she needed to trust—the judgment of others, and the conviction of the Creator.

He’d told Harth that she needed to believe… that he’d never let her be hurt by the enemy, that she should rely on that.

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He was standing here telling Zev to take the final risk. That just one more risk would show him the truth.

Yet… was he willing to do that himself? Was he willing to put himself on the line to prove the truth?

Heart pounding, adrenaline flowing in his veins, Tarkyn took a deep breath and threw a silent prayer up to the Creator for wisdom, strength, and safety.

Keep my mate safe, please. No matter what.

“You’re right,” he said softly.

Zev blinked. “What?”

“You’re right. I’m telling you to take the risk, without taking it myself.”

Zev wasn’t a stupid male. His eyes lit and his lips twitched toward a cunning smile. “Oh?”

Tarkyn swallowed. “Yes. So… I will put myself in your hands, Zev. Whatever you wish. I’m leverage, which means I’m power. If you want to see the Anima Queen move, she’ll do it for me, to save me. Or against you if you take me.

“If you want to prove to your people that she’s a heartless enemy, kill me. She will bury you—or try to. And then they’ll all fight her—Sasha included.”

Zev watched warily. “What are you doing?”

“I’m surrendering,” he said slowly, pleading with the Creator that he wasn’t a fool. “My mate tells me that you are trustworthy. That you are strong. That you are not cruel. I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen more than glimpses of the male she describes. But I trust her. And just as much as you need reassurance, my Queen does too. I’m willing to put myself in your hands to prove to you that I come in peace—and that I’m the voice of my people. Of our heart.”

Zev sneered. “Surrender? Yet you call yourself a warrior?”

“I call myself a male of integrity who lives to his word.”

“I call you a fool.”

Tarkyn nodded once. “Your thought doesn’t make it true,” he said simply. Then opened his arms. “Take your shot, Zev. I won’t fight you. Use me however you would. You win. But if I’m right about you… maybe that’ll give you some confidence that I’m right about us, too?”

Zev’s eyes lit with fierce light. He licked his lips, his mind clearly churning through everything. He watched Tarkyn for reaction when he moved, but Tarkyn left his arms open, his hands slack. His heart slammed in his chest, but he wouldn’t fight.

Zev watched him warily, backing up as if preparing to leap.

Then he shifted.

Sweat trickled down the side of Tarkyn’s face from his temple as the wolf’s paws shuffled to find his balance. Then, stomach sinking, he threw another prayer skyward as Zev leaned back on his haunches with a menacing growl, gathered his strength, then leaped straight for Tarkyn’s undefended throat.

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