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

Warg Poetry

Rowan felt dizzy. Thrax's eyes were like whirlpools sucking her in. She was saved from herself—from staring hungrily at his curling lips—by he sound of snapping twigs and feet hurrying in the dark behind her.

She and Thrax both looked around to see Meera rushing towards them. Mantor's eye was waking over the trees, the stars blinking behind him. For Rowan, the rousing night was aglow, but Meera didn't see them till the last second.

With a strangled sound, she halted. "Rowan!" She was doubly surprised to see Thrax looming beside Rowan, or so her double take suggested. She clutched her throat, stepping back. "What...what are you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse and breathy.

Rowan didn't know how it was possible, but she could smell Thresh on Meera. And a muskier undertone that savored of sweat and...something else. Something earthy and male that had her legs clenching together.

"Milady?" Meera asked again, this time her voice was more composed. "What are you doing here?"

Thrax's chest rumbled with dark humor. "The question of the night, it seems."

Recovering, Rowan planted her fists on her hips and glared at her promiscuous maid. "Well, I don't need to ask you what you were doing out here, do I? And with whom..."

Meera's face was as red as the dying day. "You spied on me?"

Rowan gasped, her own face heating with guilt. "I did no such thing!"

"Then what were you doing watching me?"

"Yes, Rowan," said Thrax, thumb stroking his chin, "why were you watching?"

Her mouth went from gaping open to slamming shut, then her jaw fell again. "I'm not..." She licked her lips. "I'm not the one who owes explanations here!" Meera had to know she was treading on dangerous ground—with Thresh. That Rowan's tone was whip-sharp was testament enough to how besieged she was with worry for her friend. "Get back to the house, Meera, we'll talk about this later."

With a stiff nod, Meera hurried off. It took Rowan a full minute to realize she'd just sent the girl away and was now alone with Thrax. She wanted to scurry after Meera or call her back, but that would've only smacked of cowardice. Too late now.

Thrax's voice was as cool as the night, launching a cascade of shivers across her arms. "You're not her mother, Rowan."

"But I am wargrix, am I not?" she retorted, her nose flaring with his scent.

His fangs gleamed white in the dark. "You are."

Feeling a little more confidant, she said, "Your sister made it very clear that Thresh was not to be trifled with. I'm certain the warning included...rutting."

A bark of laughter barreled out of his chest, surprising her. "Rutting, is it?"

She folded her arms, hating the blush singeing her face. "Yes, trust me, it was very much a rutting in the dark." It was all still branded on the back of her eyes.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He leaned in, nose almost touching her neck. "We wargs are fond of a good rutting." His eyes dropped to her mouth. "You'll find that out soon enough."

She felt his words right down to her curling toes. Her head was swimming with heat. It took all her willpower to summon some censure into her voice and turn away. "Is that where you've been the last three days? Rutting?"

"You sound jealous, min skani."

"No." She began marching off in the direction of the house, trying to ignore his soft laughter as he kept pace beside her. "I don't care where you've been. Or with whom."