Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

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*****

LERRIN - Anima

By dusk it was clear the King had to have made his way back to the Tree City despite their best efforts. Lerrin was ready to bite something. He'd already put his two trackers in the dirt for missing the decoy trail. But as the rejoined the wolf-ranks and darkness fell, one of their scouts fell to an Archer.

After a pack-mind argument with the security council, reluctantly, Lerrin left the watchers in place, but called the fighters back to the encampment.

Nothing had gone this day the way they'd intended. They had unsuccessfully intercepted the King. Their enemy's preparations to meet them had proven stronger than they'd anticipated. And they'd lost their female Alpha.

The grief of his sister's loss bubbled under the surface. He would not allow himself time for it until he was alone. But the pack mind howled to honor her, and when they returned to the camp, the wolves who hadn't been on the trail today welcomed them back with the grieving dirge.

In the oldest known wolf tradition, as he led his men back into the encampment, those who had remained lined the trails and raised their howls in harmony, singing Lucine's loss and honor to the Creator, begging for her salvation, and her peace.

It was the second time in days that Lerrin had been forced to walk the dirge—first for his father, now Lucine—and it threatened to unravel him.

Lerrin's beast snarled for release, to stand between him and the emotion of the moment, but as the remaining Alpha, he knew it was up to him to present strength. He walked the length of the encampment, the hairs on his arms standing tall as he received the grief of his people who had loved—or at least respected—his sister.

Their honor echoed that she was not forgotten.

Lerrin was forced to swallow more than once.

But finally, the people had howled their last and he was freed. As they melted back into the shadows, he turned to his Second, Asta, a female who'd shown her strength and coolness under pressure since they were adolescents. He'd been eager to bring her into power and was grateful in that particular moment, that she was the least emotional wolf he knew. He wasn't sure how much more howling he could take that night.

Tipping his head for her to follow him to his tent at the center of the encampment, she followed at his shoulder.

They almost made it, but just as he stepped off the main path and his tent was in sight, a shadow to his left became the silhouette of Samyl, Lucine's former Second—and one Lerrin had wondered if she might mate.

The male trembled and stared at him with haunted eyes.

"I felt it," he said hoarsely. "She sent to me… the images…"

Lerrin's own mind flashed the reminders of that moment, of his sister's victory turned to defeat. In wolf pack hierarchy, the Seconds always stayed back when the leaders went out, just in case… in case this happened.

Lerrin put his hand to Samyl's shoulder. "She died in honor," he rasped.

The male nodded, but his shoulders rolled forward. "I had planned… I had hoped…"

"I wondered," Lerrin said gently. "She seemed… focused on you." Not necessarily in the way the male wanted, perhaps. And perhaps it was a mercy that Samyl hadn't heard the moments when Lucine had sworn she would bring the King to his knees before her—in her bed. But she'd been so erratic these last days, Lerrin was no longer certain how much of what she'd said had been just the bloodlust speaking, and how much had been a plan in her mind.

The pain of her shunning had… loosened something in his sister that Lerrin hadn't seen before. She'd always been strong—ruthless in some ways. But never so deceptive. Never a liar.

They hadn't had a chance to discuss it at length, but he hadn't missed the King's truths. Part of his frustration that night had been in reflection seeing how much Lucine had colored the wolves perspective about what had happened the night she'd mated with Reth.

Lerrin hated to admit it, but Reth wasn't a male to take advantage. He was, however, an oblivious oath.

The truth was probably part-way between their two accounts. But he'd smelled the truth on the King.

He'd had no intention for Lucine before she gave him the signals.

His sister had lied about that.

Lerrin shook his head to escape the difficult thoughts. Squeezing the shoulder of the male before him who was grieving, who yearned for a female he could never have, he met the man's eyes. "She honored you in life, we honor you in death. Your place on the security council remains. You will have a first command, if you wish it."

"Thank you, Sire," Samyl said, relief overwhelming his scent in a way that made Lerrin question whether his tension was truly for Lucine after all.

"Now, I need to meet with my second. Gather with us in the morning. We're meeting at first light."

"Thank you. Thank you."

He patted Samyl's back and started walking towards his tent again, clenching his hands so no one would see them shake.

When he made it into the tent he decided against lighting the lanterns. He didn't need them to see clearly enough to handle himself, and it might dim him slightly to Asta—who would not entertain all this emotion. He prayed he could keep his own under control until they were done.

Pushing the tent flap aside, he immediately unbuckled his belt and began to strip off his sweaty, dirty clothes. He needed to feel clean.

Luckily someone had thought ahead and left warm water in a large bowl on the stool next to the small closet he'd been provided. Before Asta had even finished speaking to the guards and tying off the tent flaps, he was naked and using the thick rag to wipe the sweat and dirt from his skin.

He prayed she didn't look closely to see his fingers tremble.