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

The Night Gift

"I prefer it when you're not scowling," he said. "Or full of nettles."

She blinked. "The same goes for you."

His lips quirked. "Still afraid of the dark?"

She shook her head, caught in the uncanny iridescence of his eyes. Her heart quickened. Gods, he was truly a magnificent sight. "How can anyone be afraid of something so beautiful." This time, she wasn't sure if she was talking about him...or the night.

The antlered warga cleared her throat and began speaking, the words floating over Rowan, raising the hairs on her neck. Was she weaving a spell? Rowan certainly felt bespelled. The wizened finger stretched to the sky, as though summoning Brek from the heavens.

The wargs around them began to grunt excitedly as a strange light came into the wise one's eyes. It made her look feral. That gnarled forefinger then began to shift into a long, sharp claw. All this Rowan noticed from her periphery, still caught up in her mate's powerful stare.

The old warga took Rowan's palm and turned it skyward. She gave no warning and swiped her animal claw down with harrowing speed, opening Rowan's flesh in an instant. It was so quickly done, Rowan barely registered the cut or the pain until her palm was welling with blood.

She gave a hiss of surprise and tried to yank her hand back. Despite the crone's age, her fingers were like manacles, and she held Rowan in place. The same was then done to Thrax. He, of course, gave no indication he even felt the cut—no wince at all. His eyes were fixed to Rowan the whole time. And then the old warga placed their palms together and held them joined, tight in her weathered paw. All the while she murmured her arcane words to the night.

The warga's hands were like a cage. Thrax's gaze held her fast and rooted. She couldn't move at all. And then, suddenly, she didn't want to. Thrax's warmth was rushing into her, seething into her cold veins like a thousand licking flames. Her night vision exploded with even more vibrant color, and the pain was immediately forgotten.

Still muttering, the warga pulled a long strip of dark red beads from her headdress and began winding the beads around their wrists. They were almost like red freshwater pearls. Three times, the beads bound them, then she released the strip to dangle free. The wise one bent down to paw about at the ground a moment, then another intonation as she straightened up with a flourish. Over their bleeding hands she sprinkled earth. Then from the clay pot, she anointed their cuts in some mysterious red, oily paste that looked like thick blood.

The words spoken after that made no sense to Rowan. Finally, with a wave of her hands, the old one stepped aside saying, "Kan ne Kani." And with that, the pack erupted into wolf song.

Their hands still tied, Thrax lead her from the arbor. When she looked back, the old one was gone and in her place stood a grey warg with a white muzzle, a wreath of flowers and antlers on its head.

Rowan was so enthralled by the night colors that she forgot her fear of what lay ahead. A colony of bats circled overhead, feasting on radiant insects. A marvelous sight to behold. All these years she'd hated the night for all the terrors lurking within it.

It wasn't until she felt the ground transition into wooden boards beneath her feet that she snapped out of the night spell. Ahead lay a long boardwalk over marsh and bog water. At the far end of it was a longhouse on stilts. There were others like it nearby, also over the water, but this one she knew belonged to the wargrex.

Her feet grew heavier as the door loomed closer. Soon he would find out she'd lied about not being a virgin. Maeda curse her stupid liars tongue! Now she had more to fear than just the mating itself. His anger. And she still could not bring herself to look at his...cock. Though it was only a matter of lowering her eyes a fraction, which she refused to do! Just the thought of looking made her dizzy with dread.

At the threshold, he unwound the red beads and removed his hand. Then he deftly wrapped the pearly beads over and around her wrist multiple times before tying it off. It now looked like a thick, layered bracelet. She was studying his clever handiwork when he suddenly swooped her up into his arms.

She muffled her squeak of surprise against his naked chest, burying her hot face in smooth muscle. His chest was strangely hairless for a warg. His scent was exquisitely male, wrapping around her like night mist. Dread and excitement set her pulse racing, warring inside her.

Where was the brusqueness she knew to expect from him? Where was the sneering wargrex she'd come to know. This stranger beside her was kindling unwanted flames in her belly.

She clamped her hands together in her lap, the side of her body flush against his long torso, flaring with heat. She was too inhibited to touch him as freely as he touched her.

Once they were inside his house, Thrax headed straight to his bedchamber. Hanging over the doorframe was a thick pelt, like a rustic portière, which he shouldered aside. With a lazy grin, he slowly lowered her onto her feet, her shift catching between them and baring her legs as she sank down his hard body. The moment her feet were planted on the rug, she put some space between them, turning away to catch her breath. But her mouth was dry and she was breathless despite the small distance. That watchful gaze was devouring every inch of her backside, heightening her senses.

Just because she wasn't facing his potent looks anymore, didn't mean her stomach wasn't cartwheeling. Because now Rowan was facing his large bed instead. The mating bed.