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

The Bite

Thrax held her trapped in his gaze as he filled her. His movements were as infinite and slow as the first thrust had been sharp and hard. Her eyes widened as he did it again, pulling out a little further this time. When he sunk himself deep again, he rocked his hips against her. The erotic rhythm of advance and retreat, slow and deep, was dulling the pain. Inch by slow inch, a deep resonant pleasure began to swell in the center of her universe.

Her hands came up to grip the rippling muscles below his shoulders. Beneath his flesh, she could feel the wolf thrashing. Yet he kept the pace gentle, his thrusts unhurried and bone-meltingly intense. The pain ebbed away fully, replaced by throbbing of a different species.

Her body was becoming restless and impatient, writhing and grasping. The soft bed of moss was cool against her still-steamy skin. She was hot from the spring and burning from within. Her nails were impatient, reaching for release. But Thrax's pace remained torturous.

It was nothing like the wrathful fucking she'd seen Thresh unleash on Meera. Plain and simple, Thrax was making love to her body. And turning her inside out! Right now, she'd even welcome a bruise or a mauling if it meant reaching that ecstasy she could feel hovering in the gathering shadows of her periphery. But he was holding back. With every sinfully slow plunge, he drove her deeper and further into ravening madness.

With a moan, she kissed his shoulder. But it wasn't enough—she wanted...to taste him. Deeply. It was pure instinct that had her teeth clamping on his shoulder. She bit him hard as he sheathed himself fully. In an instant, she realized what she'd done and froze, appalled at herself.

For Thrax, though, it had the opposite effect. The growl in his chest rolled through her bones. The wolf in him took notice, answering her unspoken demand. The bite spurred him to full tilt. Lightening fast, he hooked her under the knee and stretched her to the full, plunging ever deeper. She cried out from both the shock and pleasure of it. There was some pain, too, but her lust overrode the twinges he wrested with every thrust past her ruptured maidenhead.

There was an animal beauty to their lovemaking. He was kissing her deeply, stealing her breaths, making her head swim. Possessing her whole body, every inch. She was drunk on him and he was tenfold stronger than the richest wine, spinning her head with vibrant red blurs, and fermented stars.

The sounds they were making felt so sinful, so carnal. The decadent wet strokes and slaps of flesh on flesh filled the dawn. Gasping, she buried her flushed cheeks in his shoulder. Gods above, those sounds were making her wetter. She'd never felt so wicked and wanton! She wanted to bite him again!

Her core tightened to hear him grunting low, her nails tearing flesh. Sweet Maeda, she was coming apart!

"Now, Rowan," he growled, thrusting so deep it nearly hurt, "You're mine!"

With that he bellowed and stiffened, grinding into her like a thousand falling stars. Hot rapturous pleasure purled through her sex, shuddering her very soul. Her toes curled tight, her eye snapped shut, caught in the violence of her climax.

Her nose was in his neck, her lips parted against his skin. Breathing deep, she felt him pulsing inside her, his body shivering. She held him tighter, her sex still quivering around him. As her body loosened beneath him, she kissed the welts she'd raised on his beautiful skin. Maybe she was half wolf, too, she thought drowsily. She'd certainly bitten and scratched him enough.

From behind closed lids, she reveled in the earthy redolence of his scent—the wildness and the male musk wrapping all around her. Everything smelled different. Richer. More verdant.

When she opened her heavy eyelids, the world looked like nothing she recognized. And she knew then she'd never be the same again.

The bond was locked.

...

Thrax's fingers were twining and playing between hers. "Thank you for removing the ring, min skani."

"Hmm?" She opened her eyes to look up at him. When his words sunk in, her stomach dropped. She jolted upright, staring at her naked thumb with mounting horror. "But I didn't!"

Slowly, they both looked towards the steamy turquoise water. What if it was in the deep end and she never found it again?

Her hands gripped his forearm. "I need to find my father's ring!" She wanted to beg his help, but what could he do? She couldn't swim and he couldn't touch it. "What if it's gone to the deep?!" The tears began to stream down her cheeks. "What will I do? It's all I have left of him!"

Thrax was still watching the turquoise water, a thoughtful furrow in his brow. "I'll go look," he said, getting up. "I can sense where it is even if I can't touch it."

She rose to her feet, too, wiping her eyes. "Thank you!" She followed him to the water's edge and began scouring the bottom, her teeth clenched on her bottom lip.

He, meanwhile, had climbed in and was wading into the deep end, his eyes questing around his feet. Beneath him, the rock was uneven and striated with so much color that it confused the eye. "That's strange," he said.

Her hands were clasped tight, supplicating. "What is?"

He glanced up at her, a frown tightening his mouth. "I can't sense it. It's not here, Rowan."

She felt sick. "No, it has to be! I was wearing it when I got undressed." She shot a hopeful glance towards the small heap of clothes.

"But not when you got in the water," he said, drawing her gaze back to him, "believe me, I'd know. Actually, I thought you took it off...for me." He was thoughtful again. "It must have come off when you fell" —he pointed to where she was standing— "right there."

She searched all around the rocky bank of the hot spring, but to no avail. Which meant it had been jarred off her finger and then rolled into the cauldron.

She'd lost weight, even in her fingers, and she'd been meaning to wrap a leather strip around the ring, but she hadn't gotten around to it yet. To her everlasting regret. And now her father's ring was lost. Perhaps for good. "Is it...lost?" she whispered. His face was becoming a blur behind all the tears flooding her eyes.

"It's not lost until you give up, Rowan." He began wading towards her, the water up to his neck. "It must be here some—" But he stopped suddenly. A frown cut deep in his brow.

She dashed at her tears, a spark of hope in her chest. "What is it? Do you sense it? Is it nearby?"

"I don't sense it, no," he said. But there was a strange look on his face as he searched the bottom.

"Then what...?"

Instead of answering, he dove below the surface. She could see him gliding below. But only for a moment, and then he was shooting upward. His head broke the surface with a hard flick, and he was grinning smugly. He lifted his hand out to her. Between his thumb and forefinger was her father's ring.

She sank to her haunches, so relieved she couldn't stand it. Her soft thank-yous were gushing out like tears, muffled behind the fingers she pressed to her lips. So intense was her relief, it took her a moment before she grasped the significance of what she was seeing. The whole picture.

Thrax was holding the nixrath ring. And he was doing so without the slightest hint of pain.