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

Nest

Rowan sat on the edge of the pier, her feet dangling over the water but not quite touching it. From the little bridge between the drinking lodge and the hall of the wargrex, she watched the afternoon sun spraying stars across the lake. It'd rained earlier but now the sun was out.

In her hand was a smooth crystal rock she'd taken from Hekki's Cauldron—a sweet keepsake. More like a fat ruby than a stone, really. She held it up to the sun, marveling at the fiery reds that shone through it. With a soft smile, she recalled finding it again after their second swim. Which had inevitably turned into a second round of lovemaking. And she'd loved him well, kissing him with gratitude and tears after he'd found her father's ring.

She'd lost count of the times he'd made her come, but it'd been nearly morning before he'd let her sleep. She shifted on the wooden boards, wincing slightly. Unfortunately, Thrax had noticed her wincing this morning, too. A pout tugged at her mouth as she sighed. He hadn't touched her all day. Especially after seeing the bruises he'd left in the aftermath of his rampaging passion. She'd told him the marks didn't hurt, but he'd shut her up with a chaste kiss and then left her to brood all day.

Good thing her bruises were already nearly healed. The bond working its magic. Already, she had warg healing ability. And she wasn't the only one benefitting from their new bond. Thrax and his pack were now impervious to nixrath. Just as humans were. Remarkable! She'd gifted him a human ability unawares. And she felt rather smug about it. It was good to know she wasn't so useless after all.

No wonder that he hadn't been knocked off his feet when she'd touched him with it on their mating night. Because the bond had been strong enough while she was touching him that when the nixrath burned him, it was only half as bad as it ought to have been.

Thrax had sent his Brother and Thresh to West Gate for nixrath. Lots of nixrath. He'd told her the High Lady still owed him payment from years before. He'd yet to name it until now.

Grinning, she pulled her feet up onto the bridge. As she was maneuvering her legs and standing up, she slipped and threw out her hands. She caught the rope railing and held fast, watching helplessly as her red stone bounced on the edge before plopping down into the water below.

"Porous curse you!" she shouted, not knowing who exactly she cursed. The wet dock or her clumsy self? Glumly, she sat back down, staring into the dark water. This time Thrax would not be going into the water for her sake. No one dared swim in this lake.

As she stared, the water began to move in a strange way. No, not the water but something just below the surface. She gasped and shoved backwards as a head of horns sprouted out of the water. Then long ivory tusks. Lastly, two serpent eyes surfaced, peering up at her. The horns jutted out from a boney frill and the long lower fangs were menacing, but the creature's sparkling green eyes blinked curiously at her. The rest of the red scaly body was a dark blur below the water.

As she watched, a transparent membrane flicked across its eyes and then back again—a translucent inner eyelid! It seemed to wink at her again.

Unblinking, she stared back. It was the mirok!

It had to be. For a creature of such savage reputation, it seemed to wear such a benign expression, blinking up at her. Its head was no thicker than a log, perhaps three feet wide, no more. She wondered how long it was. The flick in the water a little way behind, where the end of the tail hinted at being, suggested it might be eight feet long. Certainly large enough to be threatening, but nothing like what she imagined a blood wyrm to be.

Yet, from what Thrax had said, this creature could morph into proportions thrice that of its subterranean cousin. To look at it, though, one might easily forget how dangerous a mirok was. It seemed content to watch her a moment, its gaze as tranquil as the water that'd swallowed her stone.