The wind was howling outside, the night cold as Hekki's breath. Thrax lay stretched beneath her on the bed, one arm behind his head. She was perched on top, straddling him, her fingertips roving the vast expanse of his chest. For a wolf, there was surprisingly very little hair beneath her fingertips. She'd marveled at that more than once.

He lifted his hand from where it'd been drawing circles on her naked thigh. Gently he brushed his thumb across the red stone dangling from her neck.

Beegart had shaped it into a warg for her. She'd explained what she wanted, but he'd far and away exceeded her expectations. And he'd hung the pendant on a fine chain of Nixrath silver. A tiny portion taken from the payment Thrax had demanded of Elgret. The wargs were still getting used to the fact they could handle the silver with impunity.

She was happy to know her humanity—the very thing they'd once deemed themselves superior to—was what made them more inviolable. Stronger than all other wargs and beasts in the outland.

With his eyes riveted on the stone, she could look her fill and observe him at her leisure without the distracting touch of his piercing looks. The yellow was now a thoughtful, mellow gold. Gods, he was magnificent. His beauty was rugged and male and utterly arresting.

She followed his gaze to the necklace. The nixrath was like a chain of pearlescent white starlight, almost as bright as Nixra's white hair. The carved stone hanging like a jewel was streaked with darker red veins. A peculiar piece, but beautiful. The wolf was an exquisite likeness of Thrax, or so Rowan thought.

He studied the details, turning the pendant this way and that between thumb and forefinger. It'd been designed to crouch over her heart, the warg head lowered watchfully, forepaws guarding her heart. Behind the stone warg, the tail curved like a crescent moon. The pendant was attached to the silver through a borehole at the end of the tail.

When she'd first seen it, Ugla had decided that it represented Rowan's transition—that she was part warg now, too. The veins of darker red like the shades of wolf inside her. Not so long ago, she'd have balked at the notion. But now... The symbolism—the bond—all of it was staring to mean something to her.

She smiled, her hand stilling on Thrax's sternum. "Why so quiet, min skan? What're you thinking of?"

His gaze lifted as he released the stone and dropped his hand back in place atop her thigh. "I'm thinking that you ought to stay away from the mirok."

"Why? He's caused me no harm. We exchange gifts—it's a game."

Down came his brows. "What gifts?"

She scrunched her mouth to the side, feeling guilty despite it all being harmless fun. "I gave him a feather, and he returned my stone."

"I know that part, what else?"

"I gave him a lock of my hair since he liked the feather so well."

His frown deepened. "Should I be jealous?"

A giggle tickled in her throat. "Jealous of a mirok?"

"Next you'll be flirting with a saber troll." His glare was deadpan. "I wouldn't put it past you to bring home stray golrags and goblins.

With a grin, she tapped her chin thoughtfully as though intrigued by the thought.

He tugged on her braid. "And what gift did you receive in return for that lock of hair?"

"He gave me a tooth."

"A tooth?"

"A tusk—a large one. He dropped it at my feet." It was curved like a dagger, long and sharp. She'd wondered if the mirok shedded teeth beause the tusk was far smaller than those she'd seen protruding from his lower jaw. "I want you to have it. Remove part of the ivory to wear on your shoulder pieces." The only time she'd seen him wearing his ornamental pieces was when he'd come to West Gate that fateful night. A night which felt like a lifetime ago.

But Thrax shook his head. "A wargrex displays his shoulder pieces with pride. I had no part in earning the mirok tusk, so I cannot wear it. At any rate, it was a gift to you not me." He crooked a finger under her chin when her face fell. "There's no reason you shouldn't make use of it, min skani. A mirok tusk is a very rare thing. As rare as a human wargrix..." He dragged his fingers up and down her thigh, strumming her pulse into a fast tempo. "What about a weapon? It would make an impressive blade."

"Wargs have no need of weapons," she said.

He smiled, acknowledging that she'd just indirectly admitted to being one of them. She'd not done it on purpose, but she wasn't sorry she'd said it either.

"We do if our foe has larger fangs and sharper claws."

She hadn't thought of that. Evidently, they'd not bothered with weapons when they'd come to West Gate, ostensibly not deeming humans much of a threat. Or perhaps they'd known, with all the nixrath aimed at them, it was futile to pick a fight.

His face sobered as his gaze turned inward. "I doubt, however, a weapon would do much good against the vishwa—their flesh is like bone and hard to pierce."

"You're ruining the moment, min skan."

He grunted and squeezed her thigh. "You're right."

"What weapon shall I wield?" she asked him. "I must do something with my mirok tusk."

He took her hand in his, and she marveled at how much larger his was by comparison. "A little dagger for this little hand," he replied.

She snatched her little hand back. "You'd better behave..."

"Yes," he said, twirling a lock of her crimson hair around his finger, "or you might have your mirok bedevil me some dark night."

"Worse, I'll bedevil you myself with my new dagger."

That said, it was decided. Despite his little joke, she did like the idea of having a dagger made of mirok ivory. In the morning, she'd ask Beegart to carve a rondel dagger out of that gleaming mirok ivory. It likely wouldn't be much of a weapon, but she had need of a good utility tool. Her eyes drifted to the side. "I wonder what other treasures the mirok keeps down in that lake of his."

Thrax snorted. "Just promise me you'll wonder about these things from a safe distance." Then he shook his head at her when all he got in response was a knowing smile. "You're looking far too pleased with yourself, woman. How many more exotic pets do you intend to tame?"

"Not including you?" she purred.

Without warning he flipped her over, his smile predatory. "You think me tame, do you?"

"Didn't you hear what Thorsten said? A 'wargrex tamer and mirok charmer,' I believe he called me."

"Thorsten was dropped on his head too many times as a babe."

She laughed, as he began play-biting her neck.

"Next," he said between bites, "you'll get it into your head to try and tame a spindrath."

"Hmm," she answered, barely tracking the conversation now that the nipping had turned sensual. Her head lolled to the side as her pulse thrashed like a roaring river in her head. "Yes." She had no idea what she was even saying yes to.

"I wouldn't if I were you." He dragged his lips down from her throat, over her heart hammering in her breast. With a throaty rumble of contentment, he captured her nipple in his mouth. "Had one as a child."

Her breathing turned shallow, her mind like a marsh. "Had what?"

"A pet spindrath. Keep up or I'll think you're not paying attention." His tongue teased the tip of her nipple until it was like a river rock. Then he moved on to the other side, stirring her into stiff wet peaks. "Hard to tame, those spindraths."

Sighing, she arched into him, wanting more. Would that he'd just shut up and ease the ache twixt her thighs. His talking was getting in the way of her pleasure. She peeled one eye open, catching his hooded gaze as he suckled her.

He turned his face, grazing her breast with his rough jaw. "It kept trying to eat my brother..."

With a sound of frustration, she sat up, pushing him back, and fixed him with a glower. "What in Brek's name is a cursed Spindrath?"

"Always so easily distracted, min skani." His eyes were a wicked yellow as he promptly explained what a spindrath was. By the time he'd done, she was feeling icky and itchy all over.

She slapped her arms in revulsion and scooted away. "You had a giant spider for a pet?! That's disgusting!" Whether he heard her or not over his booming laughter was beside the point. She knew her expression spoke volumes. Too bad he couldn't feel the arrows flying at him from her eyes.

Still chuckling, he rolled back onto his back, arm tucking behind his head once more. "You see, min skani, not every creature can be tamed."

"You made your point." She ignored his crooking finger in favor of pouting at him.

"Did I make my point?" Undeterred, he pulled her gently forward and planted her back on top so that she was straddling him as before. This time his length was hard and demanding under his trews. "Then allow me to make another...." He snuck a hand behind her head and drew her down for a long, sensual kiss.

"I'm listening," she said, trying and failing to sound aloof.

"The point" —the tip of his mating sword nudged her meaningfully from behind his straining leather—"is that you may try to tame a beast." Again, he kissed her. This one deeper than before, her blood running molten. When he continued, his voice was stark and raw. "Some beasts you will have eating from the palm of your hand. Others" —he paused for a punishing kiss— "will eat you instead."

And to prove his point, he devoured her...long into the night.

Rowan's hair was still dripping wet as she skipped down the hill. She grinned up at the familiar rowan tree, waving farewell as she headed home. Her shift had mopped up the dampness from her skin, and she was grinning like a child, her skin pink from the hot spring. In her hand, was a snared rabbit and her leather bag was heavy with roots and succulent morels.

The sun had nearly finished its tour of the sky, and Rowan was growing excited for the coming dark. Anticipating another night of bruising kisses and lively banter. Why had no one told her that lovemaking could be so much fun? And thoroughly satisfying. Did that mean she loved him?

No such sentiment had ever passed between her and Elgret, the High Lady was like a stone fortress. That word had never been spoken between them. Who could love cold rock? It would never love you back. But Thrax was warm and passionate and alive! He was generous and gentle, but he didn't handle her like a butterfly. Nor did he treat her with disdain. Not anymore. The only thing missing between them were three words, more powerful to her than even the moon and stars. Words she feared and craved all at once.

But it was up to her to say the words first, she decided. She'd wanted to say them earlier, but he'd been called away at first light—something about a disturbance in the east. He'd left in a hurry, taking a company of scouts with him. She would show him how she felt tonight. And then, later, with her skin damp from loving him, she would say the words.

Thesta was out foraging in the forest when Rowan passed by. The warga had a fat grouse in her hand and was heading back, too. "I see the lure of Hekki's Cauldron was too much for you?" She fell into step beside her sister-in-law. "You went alone? I thought you couldn't swim?"

"I can't." Thrax had promised to teach her, though. "I always stay in the shallow." Far in the shallow.

"Not so long ago, you'd not have dared even that," Thesta proclaimed, flashing a smile. "You've grown bold, sister."

Rowan grinned back at her sister. "Or more reckless."

"With you, the two are interchangeable." Thesta chuckled. "Where's Meera?"

Rowan's smile tightened. "Probably off somewhere with Thresh."

"No," said Thesta. "Thresh is out with my brother and the others."

Rowan nodded, slightly mollified. She liked Thresh well enough, he had a biting humor she appreciated. Likely, though, she appreciated it because it never bit her. Thresh and Torgon were her favorite wargs, truth be told, other than her mate, of course. Their crosstalk and banter was always amusing. At all events, she didn't dislike the warg personally, she just worried about Meera. "If not with Thresh, then she's at home mooning over him."

"He is handsome," Thesta admitted. "In a saber troll sort of way."

They both laughed. Saber trolls were ill-tempered giants; even in sleep, she'd been told, their faces were permanently fixed into scowls.

"Here I'd considered Thrax the testiest warg, but he's tame in comparison." She glanced at her sister, noting the similarities in features Thesta shared with her brother. "What is your eldest brother like?"

"Ajax is much like Barthac, perhaps a little less mordant than my younger brother. The two fought a lot, that's why Barthac chose to follow Thrax. Here he's the beta warrior, but in Warrow he'd have been far lower down the list behind my uncles and older cousins."

"Barthac doesn't seem to like me much," Rowan admitted.

"He doesn't dislike you." Thesta shrugged, unconcerned. "It takes him a few decades to warm up to newcomers, that's all."

Rowan snorted. "Only a few decades? Wonderful." It hadn't helped that her brother-in-law had had to babysit her the night she'd escaped. "And your parents? I hope they'll take a little less time to warm up to me."

"My father is a quiet man, he won't say much even if he does like you. But my mother will shower you with affection enough for the both of them, don't worry."

"Why did they not come for our mating ceremony?"

"Mating ceremonies are pack rites, and not the business of other packs. Humans deem blood reactions family, whereas, to wargs, the pack is family."

Rowan listened raptly. Any crumb that fed her curiosity about warg customs, she devoured.

"Besides," Thesta went on, "my father hardly ever leaves Warrow. And my mother never leaves his side."

"Is that the bond at work? Never being able to leave your mate's side, I mean." She didn't like to think that the mating bond overrode a person's free will.

"No," Thesta laughed. "My parents just happen to really enjoy each other's company. The bond is different for every couple, but it doesn't make us less than ourselves. Your mate bond is a gift and makes you the best version of yourself." Then she shrugged. "That's how my mother explained it to me anyway. I hope one day I find her words to be true." The warga glanced wistfully ahead.

A sense of calmness settled over Rowan and she smiled, looking forward, too. Thrax's mother was right—she did feel...more herself than ever before. The self that had been smothered all her life was stretching it's legs and running free like a wolf. A part of her she'd never known existed. She was only now beginning to know herself inside out and she had Thrax and his pack—her pack—to thank for that. It made her hopeful for the future.

As they neared the house, she saw that Meera had been watching for her. The girl was standing on the bridge, but she dashed forward to close the distance between them. "Milady!" She was panting hard when she reached them. "You...must...come quick," she said between gasps.

"Meera, what on earth—?"

"It's Lord Marwort!" She was hanging onto Rowan's shoulders now. "He's here!"

Rowan dropped the rabbit and the leather satchel, her stomach curdling. "What?"

Thesta's nose lifted to the breeze, a soft crease on her brow.

"Merrit! He's here." Meera snatched Rowan's hands, her face in lines of worry. "He's come for you, milady. He's come to take you back!"