Mated to the Warg (Wargs of the Outland, #1)

The Shortcut

Merritt turned sickly pale when Thresh barked for him to hurry up. He was fumbling to get a key off his belt. "Please...p-please don't eat me!"

"I don't like the taste of piss," Thresh muttered, lip curling up over his teeth. His gaze was probing the curtain of rain as though he expected, at any moment, monsters to lunge out of the gloom.

Merritt gaped at Thresh's long fangs and promptly dropped the key. With a sniveling apology, he began rooting around in the muck for it.

The warg rumbled his impatience. "Leave it, Marwort, we've no time for your bumbling." That said, he took hold of Rowan's wrists at the iron cuffs and, with an almighty jerk, snapped the iron links free. The chain was broken, but the cuffs remained, gnawing away at her skin. "That'll have to do for now," he said. "We need to leave this place."

It occurred to her that he wasn't just being impatient, he was visibly disturbed. That alone—seeing him look so uneasy—turned her stomach.

She peered down into the mud one last time, hoping to catch sight of that infernal key, but Merritt's antics seemed to have buried it deep.

Meera dashed over to throw her arms around Rowan. And when she turned to hug Thresh, she was instantly enfolded in his burly arms. A flash of something tender appeared in Thresh's gaze. It was fleeting but Rowan glimpsed it.

The sight of them like this made her yearn for her mate. "Where's Thrax?"

Thresh's eyes were once more hunting through the dense rain. "The storm wildered your trail, so we split up to cover more ground."

She gasped. "So he's out here, too?" He'd come for her after all! Her knees nearly gave way, she was so relieved.

"He's close." Finally, Thresh gave her a brief look. "But if we can't stay here and wait for him."

"Yes," she whispered, watching Merritt crawl away on all fours.

"Where are we?" Meera asked, looking frightened.

"The Deadwolds," said Thresh.

Meera gasped, turning white.

Acid flushed into Rowan's gut. She'd suspected as much. It made her want to throttle Merritt all the more. She pierced him with a killing look. "You brought us to the Deadwolds!" She felt Thresh's hand firm on her arm, holding her back lest she murder the man.

Merritt stood up, his hat like a drowned pigeon, the long feathers drooping pitifully. "Deadwolds?"

"Is there an echo in here?" the warg replied with a snarl. "Yes, the fokken Deadwolds!"

Merritt yanked out a tattered piece of parchment and glared at it through the rain. "It's not on the map!" He shouted over the thunder of rain!

"To Hekki with your map!" Thresh boomed. He began walking Rowan backwards, in the opposite direction.

They moved backwards towards Striga who looked as fierce as a griffin with her feathery horns and sharp beak. Her forelegs were now covered in black scales, her talons slicing through the mud. The rest of her was all brawny horse flanks, tail swishing.

Meanwhile, Merritt inched further and further away. His soldiers and mercenaries were all edging steadily away from the warg, too. Only the valet remained where he was, still comatose. Even the valet's horse had left him.

"That's the wrong way, Marwort!" Thresh warned.

"I'll take my chances!" Now that Merritt wasn't huddled on all fours in the mud, his voice quavered less.

"Too much the coward to face Thrax, eh?"

Merritt halted, his brow in a fret. Then his eyes darted to Meera, narrowing to pinholes. Meera was planted on all fours in the mud where Merritt had been, scrabbling around for the lost key.