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

The Mirok

Rowan nodded, but dug her heels in. Her gaze darted back and forth between the mirok and the warg stone. It glimmered red in the muted light, winking for her to retrieve it.

"It took the silver chain," she said, "but not the red stone. Why?"

"For the love of Brek, woman! Ask your whys from the other tunnel." He began to drag her out, but Rowan pulled free and dashed towards the warg stone. Thrax loosed a warning growl, but she knew the mirok wouldn't attack again. It'd given her back the stone! Just like the red mirok once had! "Rowan, out! Now!" Thrax snapped.

"Not without my stone!" She snatched it up and wheeled back around, intending to run back to Thrax. But she hadn't

T counted on him being right behind her. She slammed into his chest with an "oomph!" of surprise.

"That trinket isn't worth your life." His wolf eyes were locked on the unmoving mirok. This time he grabbed her hand in a vice grip and backed away, keeping his glare aimed at the water's edge. "You need a fokken leash, woman."

"It won't harm us," she said. "Just look at its body language."

His chest rumbled with anger as he steered her out, kicking a pincer skull out of the way. "I'm sure that's what this vishwa said, too..."

"Wait!" She tried to stop again, but this time Thrax was resolved, his grip unrelenting as he dragged her out. She met the mirok's gaze one last time. "Umm, excuse me, Great Mirok..." How did one even address such a creature?

"What're you doing?" Thrax seethed, his glare shifting briefly to her.

But she turned back to the watchful mirok, her voice rising as Thrax pulled her further away. "Thank you for sparing us!"

"Oh, for the love of Brek!"

She ignored him, tripping backwards against his unyielding grasp. "Umm, I don't mean to be impertinent but...might I ask another favor?"

"Rowan! I swear to—"

"Could you...perhaps also spare us a tooth? A discarded tooth, I mean. It seems mirok ivory is the only thing strong enough to pierce a vishwa hide. I'd be in your debt if you did!"

"You're already indebted, woman!"

The mirok looked on, alert, its gaze narrow. But it remained in its lake, seemingly unmoved by her plea. A silent and resounding no, then.

Though her shoulders slumped, she rallied a smile and waved goodbye to the mirok. "Well, thank you all the same! Erm...goodbye now!" Gods, she felt like a fool. Had the mirok even understood her at all? Its deadpan look said otherwise.

Thrax shook his head and faced forward, now they were at a safe distance. "The gods shackled me with a veritable lunatic."

At the bend in the tunnel, she lost sight of the mirok. "I wonder where its nest is? I didn't see any eggs."

"That's a female. Only the males guard nests."

She cocked her head, confused. "How could you tell?" She hadn't thought to look that closely.

"The females are far larger than the males, and I didn't see any sign of a nest. The males keep their nests ready in the hope of one day attracting a mate."

"Oh!" She clutched the warg stone to her heart as they entered the chamber between the two tunnels. "How romantic!" They were entering the other tunnel now—the one in which Meera's scent still lingered. She stowed her wolf stone in her apron dress, patting the hidden pocket before dropping her hand. Keeping her voice low, she said, "We should take this mirok back to Carthyrk with us."

"Woman, you have daft notions of romance."

"Says the warg who kidnapped me on my wedding night."

"For which you are eternally grateful."

She glanced down his powerful frame, her eyes halting on the yard of flesh swinging between his thighs. "Grateful for a warg husband? A hairy savage with his cock out more often than not?" She gave a dubious snort.

"Better a savage," he said, giving her hand a light squeeze, "than a cockless lordling who'd finger his ink pot more than his wife."

She rolled her eyes, her hand hugging him back.

"At any rate," he went on, ears twitching in every direction, "your little red friend seems to have set his heart on you." Then he gestured behind them to the smaller tunnel. "And that one back there looks to have outgrown these tunnels. Not sure she could escape this place even if she wanted to."

"Oh, so she's trapped here, too, d'you think?"

"We're not trapped," he muttered. "I'll get you out of here even if it kills me."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." The mood darkened. Meera and Thresh's scents were stronger now. "Before we go off and die," she said, keeping her voice low, "there's something I want to know."

He stopped to look at her. "Yes?"

"You knew who I was all these years. Why didn't you come sooner? You allowed me to marry another man, why?"

"I didn't allow it." His jaw worked as he studied her. "I have ears everywhere. Your servants and guards might whisper in the night, thinking themselves unheard, but we wargs hear everything." A sigh rumbled out of his chest. "I was in Warrow, visiting my father's pack, when news of your imminent blunder reached me. I got to you before the bedding, that's what matters." His eyes narrowed. "You humans marry far too young, by the way."

"Yet twenty is old enough for a mating, hmm?" She rolled her eyes at his double standards. "Maybe if we lived centuries, too, there'd be no need to 'marry young.'"

"Yes, perhaps then you'd choose better husbands, too." He helped her over a thick rope of web. "That's why the gods have the choosing of mates—they don't err as humans do."

"Ahh, so you're saying you're happy with how the gods chose for you?"

He gently took her chin between clawed forefinger and thumb, pressing his lips to hers in a long kiss. "Before we go off and die," he murmured against her, "there's something I'd better say."

"Yes?"

"I love you, Rowan."

Her lips parted. "Thrax, I—"

But he pulled away. His gaze shot forward, his body tense and alert.

Finally, she heard it, too. The sound of voices echoed in the gloom ahead.

Suddenly, an awful laughter shuddered through the tunnel. It was high-pitched, disturbing the hairs on Rowan's nape. She looked up at Thrax and he met her gaze a brief moment before pulling her further along. They stepped carefully. The network of sticky webbing was getting thicker now, and harder to pick over.

"The queen," Thrax mouthed as the demented laughter continued.

Rowan tried to take heart from his steady gait and firm grasp on her hand.

At least they had one mirok fang between them. A dagger against an army of vishwa. What could go wrong?