Rowan's mind was a chaotic wheelhouse, rarely at rest. Doubts, schemes, guilt, and the ever present fear of him finding out she was still a virgin. All of it was a deafening whirr inside her skull. But the moment his lips touched Rowan's, each blaring thought splintered away in a dizzying swirl, and her belly became flurried with rushing heat. Gods above, when his tongue slipped in and coaxed hers into an erotic dance, she was completely undone. Her knees parted, becoming unsteady.

Her blood turned to wine, his lips and roving hands a panacea for every dread she harbored against him. His scent was dark wood smoke, sharp cinnamon, and winter pine. Breathing deep, she melted against him. Into him.

Her head dropped back as he trailed languid kisses down her throat. She shivered when his teeth grazed her sensitive skin. Vaguely, she was aware she was floating, her chest and limbs flushed with rousing heat.

Next thing she knew, he was lowering her onto the bed, her head sinking into the soft furs. A light chill licked her bare legs as he dragged her skirts up her calves, his palm gliding behind her bent knees, and then up the side of her thighs. His hand turned rough as he splayed it over the iron dress, his palm heavy as it slid up her ribcage.

He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, and searched her eyes. He took a fistful of her apron dress and, with an impatient tug, he ripped the overdress off her. Her eyes widened, but she was too soaked in desire to be frightened.

With him leaving over her as he was, she was eye level with the braided leather cording of his jerkin. Biting her under lip, she got to work on the cords and began unfastening them, her right hand clumsy. Without his mouth laying waste to her doubts, she was mindful of her fumbling, and all too aware of how alert he'd become. Was he worried about her thumb ring? She looked up.

No, not an ounce of worry lined his brow. In fact, he looked mesmerized, his eyes glowing as he watched her. He was so still. Too still.

Her tongue darted out across her underlip. "Should I stop?"

"No." One word. A thousand unleashed emotions behind it. More of a, "Don't you dare stop!"

Sweet Maeda, how was the mere act of undressing each other so provocative and incendiary! Well, she was doing the undressing, he was doing the ripping. She parted the jerkin, baring his muscled chest and flagstone abs. The red mark over his heart was almost healed. With his eyes following her every move, she ran her fingers up over each beautiful cut of hard male sinew. He truly was a beautiful creature, tapered wolf ears and all—a wholly male beauty that stole her breath away. But still she couldn't bring herself to unknot his belt.

Sensing her hesitation, he shucked his jerkin off. Then he slanted his mouth over hers again, nipping at her lips and teasing her with more kisses.

He smiled against her mouth as he ripped the underdress down her chest, baring her breasts. Her nipples puckered instantly, eager for his touch. Again, he broke the kiss, this time so that he could watch his fingers work her flesh into stiff peaks.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and shifted beneath him, her eyes rolling in her head. Then he was back to kissing her, hard this time. His weight pressed her deep into the mattress, his hips settling against her sex. His hand anchored her left wrist to the bed. For an age, he merely kissed her, fusing their lips in a skillful dance of tongues and nipping teeth. A divine ache was building in her core, quickening and growing with the delicious friction of his movements between her legs.

Her torn underdress was no barrier. It was just his trews left between them now. She dug her nails into his back, both anticipating and fearing what he would do next. But all he did was kiss her and nothing more. Sighing, she began to relax fully. Her knees dropped open just a little more. Her fingers softened as she explore his back. Every cord of muscle fascinated her, and he seemed to thrill in her touch, humming low in his chest. Until her fingers found a spot along his ribs that had him shivering and flinching.

He tore his mouth away, beset with sudden laughter. "Not there, woman!"

She blinked up at him. "You're...ticklish?" The thought of this mighty warg being ticklish was almost absurd.

"Even we wargs have weaknesses, as you well know." He glanced at her ring.

"Good to know." A wicked urge beset her suddenly, and she couldn't resist poking the weak spot a second time.

He laughed again, but not without retaliating. Soon he had her squealing with giggles as his hands flew under her arms, digging in her rips. Vengefully ticklish. She had a hundred weak spots on her body and he was finding them all.

Once their laughter died down, she felt suddenly shyer than before. Surprising even herself, she lifted her mouth to his, inviting him to distract her again. He did so readily. When Thrax was in command of her mouth, she barely knew her own name. His tongue plied a rhythm that stirred the most voluptuous senses in her. She was damp and hot and aching all over, nearly sick with need.

But the hard nudge of his cock, as he repositioned himself, jolted her somewhat. Her eyes flew wide as he pressed his advance, demanding entrance even as his tongue slid deeper. She turned her cheek, gasping. His mouth moved to her neck.

The hands gripping her hips were changing, his skin darkening with tiny hairs. His blunt fingers were becoming black, claws protracting.

Her panic spiked to see the shift. His breathing was harsh, sawing in and out. His canines raked across her throat. They were long and sharp, prodding her flesh. He was turning! Shifting!

She wrenched away, pushing at his chest. When she faced him, she nearly screamed. She hadn't known how close to the surface the wolf really was because he'd been overwhelming her with distracting touches and drugging kisses. Masking his lust behind restrained touches. But she could see it now—the monster in him clamoring to be free.

The panic on her face must've been enough to dull his desire. In an instant he retreated, his fangs shrinking and his skin smoothing as the fur vanished. But the animal was still there, in the yellow of his eyes. His brow knotted as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. "I said I wouldn't hurt you, Rowan."

She gripped her throat, her breathing harsh and her nod jerky. "I...I believe you." And she did. He wouldn't hurt her, not on purpose.

But pain was inevitable the first time. A virgin's pain was unavoidable. But he didn't know this was to be her first time. And she knew—from watching Thresh—what awaited her soon after the tearing of her maidenhead. A beastly fucking. She'd just glimpsed the same in Thrax, hadn't she.

Still searching her eyes, he pulled away. Not completely, though. Only half off. He was now only slightly less alarming, but it relaxed her somewhat.

"Be easy, Rowan." He lowered his head to her chest to suckle her nipple, drawing it deep in his mouth. It spurred her lust like nothing else when he tasted her as he was doing now. Her hand flew into his hair on a gasp as he thrilled her breasts with hot wet strokes of his tongue. In the space of a beat, her heart switched from panic to primal excitement. Her left hand twisted in the furs, trapped once again in his immovable grip.

A whimper of protest escaped her as his mouth moved away, the cool air now all that was licking at her hard, glistening nipples. His mouth delved lower. When she raised her head, it was to see him slip down the bed, his knees planting on the floor, grinning at her from between her thighs. Giving no warning, he hooked his hands behind her knees and yanked her to the edge of the bed.

His eyes burned with hunger, feasting on her. He dragged his tongue over his lips and lowered his head. Her brows shot into her hairline and she bucked in shock as he buried his nose in her sex, inhaling her scent. A screamed built in her chest but it whooshed out in a galvanizing moan as his tongue dipped along her slit.

"Sweet Mother Maeda!" Nothing had ever shocked her more! Nor saturated her so deeply in swirling pleasure.

"Hmm," was all he replied, his tongue flicking languidly across her swelling bud.

It was such an intimate touch and so alien that she fought it at first. She tried to push his head away and clamp her thighs, but he gave a low chuckle and ran his wolf tongue over and around her folds, holding her in place. It stilled her a moment. But that moment was enough to devour all her qualms. Her eyelids dropped, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks as her back arched and writhed. Soon she was luxuriating in this...this kiss below.

She squirmed, undulating under his tongue, opening wider. Thrax's chest vibrated with a low male growl that rolled through her body deep into her bones. His tongue flicked over every nerve, stoking her pulse into a frenzy, thrusting and swirling. Fingers tearing at the furs, she bucked and arched, craving every wet stroke, wanting him more and more of him. A low, stunning ache was building, preluding something earth shattering. Whatever it was hovered just out of reach.

Slowly, torturously, he pressed a finger into her. Then another. She sucked in a long, shuddering breath, but he wasn't done. His thumb was right there, joining his tongue in wild symphony. Then he pulled out and ran his slick fingers down her slit in maddening, torturous strokes.

"Thrax..." She didn't know what she wanted to say, only that his name felt like a prayer on her lips.

But he understood. The pace quickened. He parted her with his fingers and clamped his mouth hungrily over her. Faster and faster, his tongue flicked out over the throbbing bud, the intensity and rhythm turning her inside out! Building and pressing until she was wound so tight, her limbs went rigid, he lungs seizing. With a deafening snap, she came apart.

She didn't even recognize the sounds coming out of her—like she was dying and being reborn all at once. She was so caught up in that annihilating force, she didn't care if she was close to death. For this feeling, she'd die a thousand times over.

After the convulsions subsided, she stretched and sighed, floating deeper into the bed, her head sinking deep into a sated cloud. She hadn't known such a kiss was possible. The kiss below. Meera hadn't told her...

She had only enough strength to lift one eyelid and smile shyly up at Thrax as he kissed her thighs. She brushed her fingers through his dark mane, her fingers still tingling. Every part of her body was humming quietly.

He was watching her, his wolf yellow eyes so dilated they were nearly black. She became instantly wary as he climbed fully onto the bed, leaning over her. Like a wolf ready to eat her—ready to finish off the main course.

But all he did was plant a hard kiss upon her lips and then her brow. "Go to sleep, min skani."

"You're not...going to..." She peeked down the length of him, her eyes snagging on that powerful cock. It looked painfully hard, the tip moist and eager. Quickly, she looked away. "Don't you...aren't you...?"

With a deep chuckle, he lay down next to her, pulling her back against his chest. "I am all of those things and more," he murmured huskily. There was a hint of pain in his voice as he sighed. "Rest, there's time enough. We wargs live centuries." He kissed the side of her head, adding, "Though I hope you will not make me wait a lifetime."

"You live that long?" She didn't know that. "Humans don't."

"But you will," he said, yawning as he pulled her even closer. "The mate bond works in wondrous ways."

When he did nothing else, she relaxed, curling up into a sated little ball, folded tight in his arms. She felt safe! How strange. Feeling anything at all for Thrax, even safe, still felt like a betrayal to Merritt. She felt fickle and unsure of what was real and what was just lust.

But one thing was undeniable, in his arms she had the best night of sleep she'd had since leaving West Gate.