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

Anew

The air shifted, plucking the little hairs awake on her arms. Rowan felt Thrax move to stand directly behind her. She was looking at his bed but not really seeing it, all her attention focused on the wall of muscle behind her.

A shiver of something other than fear leaped up her spine as he touched her. His fingers drifted up along her back to her shoulders. With light tugs, he began unfastening the ties on her shift, his calloused fingers scattering goosebumps wherever they moved.

Her eyes drifted closed and her mouth parted. It wasn't just her flesh reacting powerfully. Her heart was thundering in her breast, as loud as any storm Brek could summon to the sky. She didn't know what to do with her hands or how to act. This was unchartered terrain, and he was overwhelming her with his gentle, intoxicating touches.

The shift began to slip off one shoulder. When the ties over her other shoulder came loose, she clutched the shift to her breasts to keep it from pooling at her feet. "Why are you being so...kind?" she whispered.

Her voice seemed to dispel whatever strange magic was burgeoning between them because he sighed loudly. His hands fell away. "Would you rather I treat you like a stranger?"

She still couldn't face him. Though his hands had left her, he hadn't moved away, she could feel his heat like a towering brazier. Her tongue darted out and she turned slightly. "We are strangers, Thrax."

"Would you have us remain so?" he murmured.

She needed to stop being a coward and face him. His voice was guarded and low, so she couldn't tell how he was feeling or what he was thinking. Not that his expressions were ever revealing, but she wanted a hint. His gaze would give her that. Swallowing, she turned around and raised her eyes to his. She was relieved to see no anger, yet all the more nervous to see his eyes lit with an equally powerful emotion. Desire.

The mating bracelet jangled as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Most days you act as though you hate me."

"I don't hate you, Rowan." His jaw flared. "It's just..."

"What?" She clutched her shift tighter across her chest. "You find my humanity woeful? My ignorance of the outland appalling? What?"

His mouth hardened. "I was going to say that it's a trial to be kind to someone who professes to hate me."

Her brows knit together. She wanted to deny it, but by doing so, she'd be weakening the wall she was trying to keep between them. It was her only defense against him.

"The only time you don't seem to hate me," he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth, "is when I'm kissing you."

He was making her lightheaded. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Kiss me."

He smiled. "You sound frightened."

"Yes," she breathed. But then his words sank in and her eyes widened. "No, I mean..."

He gently reached over to remove a sprig of lavender from her unbound hair. He studied it a moment, twisting it between thumb and forefinger. "You might like it, you know."

Her pulse skipped. That was the problem, she liked his kisses far too much. But she couldn't tell him that. Even now, she could hear the perilous chink of her crumbling defenses.

"I won't bite unless you want me to." Thrax dragged the lavender softly down her throat. "Or are you afraid of what comes after I kiss you?" He leaned in and she closed her eyes as his breath skimmed along her neck. "A warg between your thighs is not all that different to a man, you've nothing to fear."