AimeeLynn

[COMPLETE] What life is left for a warrior when there is no more enemy to fight?

...He knelt before her in the posture of a soldier giving honor to their Queen. And she didn't even know it.

“Harth," he rasped, "I come empty-handed. I bring no weapon. Because I swear to you, I will never choose to harm you. Never draw your blood—in anger, or in fear. I bring no shield. Because I vow I will never defend myself from your eyes, your hands, your mind. I am yours.”

*****

After a year of peace in Anima, Tarkyn finds himself... lonely. As the Captain of the Queen's Guard and a lion-shifter, he has met every female in the tribes, but never found his mate. Certain he must have overlooked someone, Tarkyn undertakes a grueling ritual, pleading with the Creator to reveal her. But the ritual presses him to the end of even his formidable strength. 

Yet, the Creator heard his cry...

Discovered on the brink of death by his mate, Harth, and nursed back to health, Tarkyn now faces the most difficult battle of his life. Because Harth isn’t just a stranger to the Anima, she is a weapon of the humans who tried to destroy them.

Can the love of a warrior and his enemy bring peace to Anima? Or will they be torn apart forever by war between their peoples?

*****

STANDALONE STORY: While Tarkyn's story is a part of the Anima world and fans will be reunited with some of their favorites as side-characters, Tarkyn and Harth are new POV characters and their story is a new plot arc, so their story can be enjoyed without reading the previous books! But please add Falling in Love with the King of Beasts, and Taming the Queen of Beasts to your library to enjoy later!

Cover Art by artist: Aenaluck. Find more incredible art and support the artist on www.patreon.com/aenaluck

Mated to the Warrior Beast

Jayah stepped away from the cave where Sasha and Zev were settled, heaving a sigh.

Zan had both slept and fed again—which was good. But though he'd slept more deeply, his rest was still broken, and though he'd eaten, it wasn't enough.

When Jayah examined the small boy his wail of protest was still weak, his flailing still jerky and lacking strength. And his stomach still distended.

He braced against pain when it was touched. His skin and eyes still dull.

But he was alive. Alive and stronger than he'd been the day before, Sasha was certain of it.

"Thank you, thank you," the woman whispered endlessly as Jayah did her best to ensure that there were no wounds to the boy. She hated to even think it, but was it possible his father had hurt him—even accidentally—in a rage?

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