Captive Of The Warg, (Wargs of the Outland #2)

The Game

The Leikker Hall was the prominent hall of feasting and games. Reia absorbed the information with half an ear. The sound of Bayne's voice brushed over her, husky and warm. Learning to field dressing a bloody ice bear in the midst of a pack of wargs was unnerving enough without his hands distracting her every moment. Her skin was flushed as they entered the hall. He wasn't touching her now—not physically. Yet she could feel his voice caressing her belly, hot with promise.

"The Leikker Skal is separate from the rest of the warg stronghold," he said, moving to an open vat of beer. A lower-lying hall, he explained. It sat on the fringe of the small ice field atop which they'd field-dressed the bear. Unlike the other buddings, the Leikker Hall was a longhouse constructed of timber, whereas the rest of Ruinik's Hek was a maze of carved white rock. A part of the mountain. She thought it beautiful, yet cold and intimidating.

The Leikker Skal was anything but. Open hearths roared with fires and the younger wargs were wrestling on the thick rugs, laughing and tumbling. A few of them raced about in their wolf forms. Outside, the bear was being carved up. Some of the older wargs were playing a strange game wherein they each took turns lifting large boulders. Presumably, it was a test of strength as the boulders got larger and the wargs that advanced got burlier.

All around, the wargs played and drank. The sound of wooden bats slamming against opposing bats mixed with raucous laughter and cheering. It was softened by the sound of the fires and the cascade of smoke purling in the sky. A thrilling scene that was somehow homey and peaceful. Nothing like the winter nights in North Gate.

Reia moved over to where two elders played a strange board game. As they moved carved stone pieces across a checkered board, she found herself enjoying their banter. The way they strategized, their faces animated. Konungbord it was called.

Bayne pushed a horn of beer into her hand, his fingers brushing hers. Desire welled in her belly. Knowing her face was warm, she pressed the horn to her lips and watched him over the rim of the horn. That knowing smile of his burned a trail down her body.

All her life she'd been told nothing but lies. That wargs were savages who dwelled in dens and caves littered with human bones. She didn't want to see them as...human. It made her uneasy. If they were mothers and daughters and doting grandfathers then she couldn't hate them as easily. A lifetime of hate and dread was quickly unraveling tonight as she watched and listened.

But it was the wargrex's presence that filled her mind. Even when he wasn't watching her, he was distracting. He stood close by, regaling Forx and a group of males with the story of the bear. Her cheeks flamed to hear him tell of how she roared and brandished her blade bestride an ice bear like some vengeful demigoddess.

"...impaled eye glaring at me from the tip of her knife..."

Was that really how he saw her? It was the first time she could remember anyone painting her in such a fierce light. Unsettling to think that the monsters of the outland saw in her what her father never had. The woman he described was someone she didn't know. Yet it felt so good and right to imagine herself as they saw her. To imagine herself brave and bold. Terrifying.

The thought tugged a smile to her lips as she mulled it over. Her smile curled higher as Basil arrived to sit on her boots. She scratched the fur behind his ears when Bolrus surprised her suddenly. He took her horn and replaced it with another he'd filled to brimming.

"Is it poison," she asked, only half jesting.

"Ha! Only women poison their foes." He tipped his horn up, swilling every last drop. With a belch, he wiped his mouth. "I'd use my claws and fangs." He saluted Forx who joined them.