AARYN
It was instinct. He hadn't even thought about it. Tarkyn approached his mate and he was on his feet, watching to ensure nothing untoward happened. But when she dominated him, Aaryn saw him resist—saw the shudder ripple through him as his body told him to submit, but his mind said no.
And even though he dropped his voice. And even though he rolled his shoulders—his aggression was gone—he touched her.
He fucking touched her.
Nevermind that she was the Queen. He touched Aaryn's mate.
It was thoughtless to place himself between them to snap the grip Tarkyn had on her arm and put himself nose-to-nose with the older male.
Elreth had fought Tarkyn many times, though Aaryn suspected the male held back with her somewhat.
But he'd never fought Aaryn. Not really. They'd trained, even sparred. He knew something of the Captain's style.
