Page 44 of The Beta's Blind Date

“WL-176.59. Section B. As long as they have gone through a complete warrior training program, a pack transfer can compete in an official warrior challenge at their new pack to be granted warrior status. Once initiated, the challenge must take place within two weeks, or the challenging werewolf will automatically be granted a position among the warriors of the pack.”

“You’re lying,” he growls, glaring at me.

“She’s not,” Dawson says, coming up behind him, his phone in hand. “Look.”

Dominic whirls around and snatches the phone from Dawson. He scans over the screen several times as he reads and rereads the words. His eyes darken and his jaw clenches as he looks at me again, and he tosses the phone back to Dawson without a glance. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for me to reply or follow. He storms away towards the packhouse, the warriors parting like the Red Sea to stay out of his path and away from his stifling aura.

I follow him, remaining several steps behind him since his aura is still rolling off him in waves. Everyone’s eyes are on us as we walk to the packhouse.

“Training isn’t over just because the alpha is leaving!” Delta Conor yells. “Get your asses moving! Pair up!”

“Good luck,”Blake mindlinks me, giving me a small wave as she jogs to rejoin the training.

Dawson strides up next to me, his hands in his sweatpants pockets, but he doesn’t say a word as we follow Dominic. He stood up for me, though. Sort of. He told Dominic I wasn’t lying, showed him the law. So I can only hope he’ll stay on my side through this meeting.

Not that Dominic can deny me. The council wrote the law in such a way that it’s impossible for an alpha to deny the challenger either the challenge or the position. But it will still be nice to know someone besides Reid is in my court. On my side.

Dominic leads us into the house and through the kitchen and then the sitting room—thank the Goddess it’s not tea party day, and Luna Merina and her friends are nowhere in sight—and then around the corner and into his office on the main floor.

I’ve spent my fair share of time in this office. Back when Dominic and I were an item. It’s a small space, with bookcases on three of the four walls and enough room for the large, dark wooden desk and the two chairs for guests in front of it.

But even though it’s small, it is not cozy. There are no personal touches—no photographs, trophies, or trinkets to designate this space as Dominic’s space. Just generic books and office supplies you’d see in any office.

Dominic stomps around the desk to the bookshelf on the back wall, scanning the shelves for the book containing the laws of our kingdom—the laws enforced by King Malachi and his council. He turns and sets the book on the desk, sitting in his large, luxurious, black leather chair, his hands rubbing the armrests as he does.

I make a point to look right at him as I take a seat in the chair nearest the door, the chair directly across from him. I haven’t been in this office since the night I ended things with him, and before, I would always sit in his lap or on his desk, facing him, my feet pushing the arms of the chair to spin it and distract him from whatever he worked on.

His jaw clenches and he tears his eyes from me and leans forward, brow furrowing as he opens the book and flips the pages, searching for the law I referred to on the training field. Dawson leans against the wall, arms crossed and one foot up, chewing on his bottom lip.

I know what page it’s on, and I am sure Dawson does too, since he looked it up on his phone, but neither of us wants to be the one to open our mouths and break the silence in the office. Neither of us wants to anger our already volatile alpha.

Dominic halts his page-turning. His eyes scan the book, his finger tracing under the words on the page. I fold my hands in my lap, squeezing them together to keep them from shaking, to keep myself from tapping them against my thighs or the edge of the wooden chair while I wait for Dominic to talk.

He at last looks up, his upper body tense, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath he takes. “All right. You’ve initiated this… challenge. But who is going to train you? To get you ready for the trial?”

“I have a friend who is going to help me.”

“Blake?” He scoffs. “She can’t help. I alpha commanded everyone in the pack through the mindlink. None of them can help you.”

I lean back in my chair and fold my arms. “Actually, it’s Beta Reid from Crescent Lake.”

Silence. Dawson is still, eyes wide, heart racing, like prey caught between two predators, waiting to see which will strike first. Waiting to see if they’ll pounce on him or fight each other instead.

Dominic stares at me, unblinking. “Excuse me?” His voice is low, borderline threatening. The tremble underneath is the only giveaway to the tenuous hold on his restraint.

“He offered to help me after I told him you made me start from the bottom of the ranks. He’s the one who found that stipulation in the laws for me.”

“I could command you to not train with him.”

“You can’t. Part of the law states that the alpha cannot order the challenger to not seek help to prepare for the challenge. So, you can keep everyone in the pack from helping me, but you can’t stop me from finding outside help.”

He glances down at the book in front of him, reading through the law again, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes his already clenched fists. He grabs the cover of the book and slams it shut, his hand running through his sandy brown hair.

“Go,” he says, waving Dawson away, his head falling into his hands. “Let Conor know Taryn’s challenge will be in two weeks from today.”

Dawson straightens and nods at Dominic, then glances at me. I give him a small smile, and he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder before leaving the office.

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