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.

She swallowed nervously as it's eyes dropped to her mating bracelet of pearly red beads. Her fingers curled possessively around the pearls. "No, Sir mirok, you already have my stone. Don't ask for my bracelet, too."

The nostrils flared suddenly. With a final nictating blink, its green stare sank below. She searched the vanishing ripples for a moment, unsure what to make of the mirok's sudden appearance, and subsequent departure. She could've sworn the thing had smiled a farewell at her! But serpents didn't smile. Did they?

Shaking her head, she stood up carefully. Now that the mirok was gone, she was back to lamenting the loss of her stone. She'd wanted Beegart to carve a wolf out of the stone, she'd been so excited to wear it around her neck. The stone was important because something ground-shaking—no, something heart-shifting—had taken place in Hekki's Cauldron yesterday. When the mating bond locked in place, something ancient and primitive was unlocked within her. It was more than just the kaleidoscopic surge of wolf abilities that'd instantly snapped in place. More than just the keen senses she was endowed with. It was everything to do with Thrax. The bond magic had dashed to bots every last piece of armor she'd built around herself until she'd stood before him—lain beneath him—naked to her very soul. And in that moment she'd realized she could no sooner leave him than cut out her heart.

But it was more than fate and inevitability—more than mating bonds and warg magic. She was enjoying Thrax, their banter and chemistry most of all. Every time a misgiving, or a thought of Merritt, would intrude, she'd catch sight of her mate and he of her. And everything fell away but the igniting passion she could feel glowing in her face. She lived for the their shared secret smiles. The tickling and wrestling that preluded their mating. Those sweet moments were as heart stopping as when he slid into her afterward.

It was really too bad about the stone. She'd not seen anything like it before. Maybe there were more in Hekki's Cauldron. She would just have to return with her mate and find another. The thought lifted her mood a little.

Sighing, she turned to go, but halfway back to the house she stopped. She'd forgotten about the lilies. Turning around, she headed towards the far side. Navigating the network of bridges was something of a maze. Finally, though, she reached the lake bank and the lilies. They seemed to explode like red fire out of the lake. She didn't have to get far into the water, she could reach a few stems easily from the marshy bank.

She hunkered down, her hems heavy with mud, and reached for the first stem, snapping it easily. With the mirok haunting this lake, she was careful not to enter the water fully. With a firm tug, she snagged her first lily. By and by she had herself a pretty bushel. Once she was satisfied with her take, she gathered them all up in her arms and headed back towards the house.

She was humming to herself as she entered the hall. She'd never seen such a peculiar shade of red in a flower, nor a prettier species of lily. Perhaps the color she perceived was thanks to her new heightened wolf senses. After all, everything around her looked different now.

She was arranging the blooms in a clay vase when she heard Thrax approaching. A smile curled her lips. She knew it was him, his gait was already familiar to her. But even without hearing his footfalls, she knew when he was nearby. She'd never been so aware of a male before.

His footsteps suddenly stalled at the doorway behind her. She felt his gaze probing. And she felt something else, too. An insidious quiet that tugged the fine hairs on her nape.

Slowly, she turned around to face him, a crease in her brow. "What's wrong?"

He was staring at the lilies, something like horror on his face. "Tell me you did not pick those yourself!" And then he was looking at her, his eyes sweeping over her in disbelief. Before she could answer him, he was rushing forward. He snatched her hand and yanked her away from the lilies as though they might bite her.

Her jaw gaped in shock, her eyes tracking to the blooms he was scowling at. "What's the matter?"

But he was rounding on her with a thunderous expression. "Are you mad?"

She must've blinked a thousand times in the single moment before she answered, "I'm getting there." Her lips pursed. "Mad at you, I mean."

He released her, stepping backwards. He shook his head, looking confused. "Did you pick those, Rowan?"

Fear skittered over her spine. "Of course I picked them."

"And...and you came away unscathed?"

"As you see." She looked down at her hands, wary. Her fingers were painted in sticky red nectar. "Are they" —with a gulp— "poisonous?"

He took her hands and squeezed them gently, lifting her lily-stained fingertips to his lips in a hard kiss. "Did no one tell you about the mirok nest, min skani?"

"What?"

"Those lilies belong to the mirok." He looked her over again, still seemingly in disbelief. "I cannot believe it let you near enough to pluck them. No warg will go near those lilies for fear of the mirok."

Her face drained. "No one told me that!"

A dark thundercloud rolled over his features. The next moment he was hauling her into his arms, holding her as though he might never let go. "You must never go near the nest again."

"Obviously!" She pulled away, shaking.

"Miroks are placid beasts until provoked—and nothing provokes them more than theft."

"But I...I never stole anything!"

"You took the lilies! They're red. Anything red that belongs to the lake belongs to the mirok." His eyes bored into her.

Did that mean her red jewel now belonged to the mirok? "I...I was careful not to go into the water."

He scoffed, "You don't think the mirok can leave the water if he wishes? Promise me you will never go near its nest again."

She nodded curtly, feeling chastised. "You should've told me."

"Yes," he said, gentling his tone. "But I thank Porsus you were spared. For whatever reason, the mirok took no offense and I'm grateful."

"Anything else I should know not to do lest it kills me?"

"Yes," he said, grin sharp. "Don't wander into the outland without me."

She rolled her eyes, nettled every time he hinted at her botched escape. "Are all warg males so pithy?" And vexing, she wanted to add.

He folded his arms across his chest, the clasps on his vest straining. "You want pretty words, min skani?"

She tried not to stare at his thick arms and the carve of hard muscle and tanned flesh. Pretty words were Merritt's forte. Was Thrax even capable of flattery and flowery prose? "What pretty words might you offer me, Har Kan?"

She was unprepared for the sudden shift in his demeanor and the way the tension between them went from teasing to sensual in the blink of a moment. His voice lowered as he bent his lips to her ear, his breath a hot caress. "I offer few words—you know I have better uses for my tongue..."

She shivered, her loins weeping with need. Her thighs clenched together at the mere thought of his clever tongue delving between her cleft. "Yes," she whispered huskily, her words more a plea than an answer. But he moved away suddenly, leaving her bereft and frustrated.

He, on the other hand, appeared unaffected. He gestured towards the sound of revelry in the drinking lodge nearby. "You must be famished after escaping death."

The smell of roasting meat was tantalizing even if she wasn't feeling very hungry just now. Well, not for food, anyway... She sighed, trying not to look at the bulge in his trews. Trying not to lament the bruises that constrained him. "What's for dinner?"

"Spitted saber troll." His mouth quirked. "The outer flesh is a bit poisonous, but I'll char it well for your dainty palate."

She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I'd rather eat toenails."

With a wink, he tugged her along behind him. "I left its toenails on just for you."

She laughed and yanked her hand back. "What a thoughtful beast you are."

At the door he gave a courtly bow—evidently wise to the ways of human customs.

She waved him off. "I'll be along shortly."

He inclined his head, dropping a kiss on her brow. Then he stepped out, leaving her to follow later.

She bit her thumbnail and cast her eyes back to the lilies. Why didn't the mirok attack her? A lump of dread shot up into her throat just thinking of what might've happened if Porsus hadn't intervened on her behalf. The god of sea and water had smiled on her today and kept his beast at bay. She had to thank the god somehow.

She ran across the room as an idea took root. She swiped up the lilies and hurried out onto the landing. With only a fleeting twinge of regret, she flung the bouquet into the water. Her heart dropped to see the sacrificial blooms strewn across the water. One by one, they sank until there was only one left clinging to the surface. All its petals hovered just above water like a blood-soaked star, the stem hidden somewhere below.

Her brows rose warily as that single bloom began to move, making an uncanny beeline for her. Then it paused right below the ledge, underneath her feet, floating eerily. When it stayed there a while, she lowered her hand halfway down to the water, intent on plucking it up. What was going on?

She looked around, but there was no one else about. When her gaze returned to the water, she took instant fright and yelped. For there, mere inches away from her frozen hand, was the mirok's queer green gaze. And the lily was between his smiling jaws.