A Warrior's Heart - Part 1

~ TARKYN ~

Despite his weariness, as they entered the tree, Tarkyn's instinctively braced for defense—and measured his opponent.

The tree reeked of blood, and a warrior's rage. Tarkyn took in the sight in a blink.

This tree, originally for storage, but turned into a prison during the last war, had been renovated for the purpose.

One, long side of near-fifty-foot space was a single cell, large enough for several prisoners. The bars were formed from the petrified hearts of Great Trees and even Tarkyn himself couldn't snap them with bare hands. They rose all the way to the twenty-foot ceiling above—and no stairs. This tree had only ever contained one, large hall-like room.

But the space from the door had been made into an aisle that T-intersectioned at the big cell. On either side of them, smaller cells had been made, each with their own door, a bedroll, a bucket for waste, and a small gate within the door itself that allowed the passing through of food or other resources to prisoners without giving the prisoner any chance for escape.

With several bodies now in the tree, standing in the aisles, there was little space.

The human woman stood at the gate into the largest cell, demanding that it be opened so she could get inside. And inside it a large plinth had been placed.

Tarkyn swallowed hard, his body revolted as he imagined himself in such a space.

The male who'd been placed on the large, carved stone that looked frighteningly like an altar, though Tarkyn knew that wasn't its purpose, lay on his back, naked.

His arms extended down towards the floor, and his legs hung down from the knees, arching his lower back slightly, because all his limbs were tied.

The chains allowed some movement, but wouldn't let him lift his hands or legs level with the rest of his body. Which meant he couldn't shift, because if he did, and the chains didn't snap, his beast's body would be torn from throat to sternum.

It was a way that lions defeated prey, splitting their chests open through sheer force.

Whether he knew which animal had strategized to pin him there, the male clearly understood the danger he was in.

The smell of blood permeated the room, because he'd been fighting his bonds. His wrists and ankles bled, a slow, but steady patter of blood dripping from them.

His hands and feet had swollen, but he didn't seem to notice.

Dark haired and blue eyed, he snarled his fury, the scarred, muscular arms and legs rippling and veined with his efforts as he fought to break his bonds.

"Zev! Zev! Breathe! We're here! We aren't hurt! We're here!" The human woman was clearly close to tears. The moment the guards opened the door to the cell, she rushed inside, carrying her son, to curl herself over her mate's head, holding him to her, murmuring to him, stroking his hair.

He didn't stop struggling immediately, but then a whine broke in his throat and his arms shuddered as he tried to reach for her, but couldn't because of the restraints that wouldn't allow him to lift his hands far enough.

Tarkyn's heart went cold.

It was a cruel, ruthless way to bind a warrior, stealing both his greatest weapon—his beast—and becoming increasingly painful, the longer they were left in the position.

Tarkyn wasn't above tactics for interrogation, even torture when it was necessary against a proven enemy. But this?

The male responded exactly as Tarkyn would have in the same situation—with blind panic. Aggression and fear mingling so that while he kept his human form, his body—and likely his mind—reacted with his beast.

The room stank, the tang of powerful male in full rage and abject terror.

If they were to release the male in that moment, he likely wouldn't be able to walk, or straighten his arms—and yet, he would do everything in his power to kill anyone he was presented with.

"El," Tarkyn breathed, "I don't think—"

His mate's scent became a tidal wave of rage and grief and she jerked forward. But Tarkyn held her closely, instinctively, immediately rushing to caution her in his mind.

'This isn't her way. He must have truly frightened them. I'll plead his case, Harth. But you have to wait. You have to trust me. I wouldn't… I wouldn't leave one of my own men in that position. I won't let them leave him that way. Trust me.'

'How can I trust you if you don't trust me?' she wailed in his head, struggling against his hold to pull from his grip.

'Trust? Of course I trust you—'

'You didn't stand up for our bond!' she accused, her eyes pained and tight as she looked back and forth between him and her alphas, the female of the pair sobbing over her mate, and clinging to him in a way that punched Tarkyn right in the solar-plexus.

Would Harth weep over him if he was—

'Of course I would! That's my point! How could you let them think I might be deceiving you? How could you leave even the question of that in their minds?'

'Harth, I had to let them see that I was still objective. If I'd tried to push El—'

"You have to release him! Please! He's losing his mind!" The human woman stood up suddenly, whirling, still gripping her son to her shoulder. "He's going to lose his mind—you'll kill him!"

"It's unfortunate that he's woken," Elreth said, and Tarkyn heard the very real grief in her tone, though he imagined the strangers might not realize that's what it was. "But we can't risk letting him out when he's so strong."

"So keep him here, but release him from these bonds! Please!" The woman pleaded with such intensity, it was almost a scream. "You say you have mercy—you say you aren't like the humans, but this… this is exactly how they held him when… you have to stop!"

Tarkyn's heart sank as the babe began to wail, woken by his mother's screaming, and the warrior on the stone roared wordlessly, his entire face turning beet red as he fought to get to his mate and child.

The scene broke Tarkyn's heart. Please, he prayed. Please, find a way. Guide us through this. Don't let us become the villains in this story…