Page 11 of To Challenge a Wolf

“Exactly,” he said.

“But you’re so happy here you stayed anyway?”

“Nope.” His teeth flashed, smug and aggressive in equal measure. “Malachi beat me.”

Whoa. Hadn’t seen that coming. “Was he trained like you?”

“If he were, I’d be dead now.”

“So he beat youwithouttraining.”

“Yep. Strongest wolf alive, if I had to bet on it. Good wolf too, fortunately. So I chose to submit to him, and the last three years, almost four now, he’s been my alpha.”

The sarcasm had subsided from Rhett’s tone while he spoke of Malachi Fuller. For a minute Vivian sat with this new knowledge. He’d hated his father’s authority with such vehemence, she couldn’t picture him voluntarily bowing his head to another alpha.

Rhett sometimes read other people with skewed lenses, but typically his filters were more negative than someone deserved, not more complimentary. Then again, if anybody could earn his undying respect, it would be a wolf who could knock him down and keep him down but didn’t use that power to hurt him.

“I want to meet them,” she said. “Your alpha and your pack. You have social gatherings, right? Is there one tomorrow?”

Of course there was; tomorrow was Saturday. Wolves didn’t neglect social time, especially on the weekend. It was a consistency across every pack she’d met. Rhett’s instant glare proved her right, but he said nothing.

“Oh come on, Rhett. I know wolves. I know you’ll get together tomorrow.”

Low growlandjaw tick. “You can’t just show up. You’re not pack.”

“So ask your alpha for me. He’ll say yes, won’t he? He’s not a control freak, obviously. You wouldn’t have lasted a week here if he were.”

“There’s no reason for you to meet my pack.”

“Of course there is.” Unless he was hiding something. The third-worst possibility in the world rammed into her with the force of a train. Rhett wasn’t dead or caged, but maybe he was… “Do you have a mate, Rhett?”

“No.” He smacked his palm on the table but managed not to crack the wood this time.

“Then what’s the problem?”

But the problem was clear. While she had looked for him, he had moved on from her. He didn’t wish for what might have been, if his father hadn’t controlled every aspect of his life. He certainly didn’t wonder if in time they might have become life mates.

He didn’t think of her at all.

“I’m not asking Malachi,” Rhett said as if that were an answer.

Well, screw him. So he’d forgotten her. She would make him remember. Operation: Find Rhett had lasted ten interminable years, but now it was over. Now she had to win him.

“Quit that,” he growled.

“What?” She batted her eyelashes.

“Plotting. I can smell you plotting.”

“Ooh, and how does plotting smell? Does it blend well with black tea?”

“You smell exactly the same,” he said, then blinked at his own blurted words.

For a gleaming moment she seemed to feel fate’s smile as she sat at the rustic picnic table in the growing dusk of the park. Maybe that was a coincidence. Or maybe fate had a role to play after all and saw her discouragement. Here was a glimmer of evidence that Rhett wasn’t as steely and impervious as he appeared to be.

She leaned across the table and gave a little sniff. “You still smell like metal to me. Gamier, I think, but that’s normal as a wolf matures.”

“And you know this how?” he growled.

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