Page 23 of To Challenge a Wolf

Not the time to wonder. He nodded to Malachi and set out toward the forest, but he took an oblique trajectory past the lawn darts game, where he stopped long enough to nod to the wolves. Only fourteen-year-old Quinn seemed to catch on to his meaning. He grinned at Rhett, picked up a dart, and handed it to Nathan.

“Come on, man,” Quinn said. “We have to keep playing like normal while Rhett goes scouting.”

“Right.” Nathan looked and smelled worried, but he tossed the dart toward the target with mild conviction.

Meanwhile the conversation at the fire pit had continued. Rhett listened easily, not wanting to miss a detail of strategy he might need to know.

“What if a few of us sat on the back patio, out of sight under the awning?” Kelsey was saying. “Would that help, Aaron?”

After a long moment, Aaron said, “I think so.”

“I’ll go talk to Ember,” Kelsey said. “April? Would it help you too?”

“N-no,” April said quietly. “I need to stay with Malachi.”

“Sure thing.” A pause during which Kelsey likely hugged multiple people. “Love you guys. It’ll be okay. We’ve got Rhett’s nose and Ezra’s ears. And we’ve got the strongest alpha in the world.”

In the space of a few minutes, the scent of every wolf present had escalated with protective rage. This was one of those times Rhett’s sense of smell produced a mild strain. His head felt weighted, over-full. If the pack were crowded indoors, he’d have a headache by now. The blanket of odors was bearable outside, more so as he broadened distance.

When he was far enough from the cookout and the likely focus of the drone, he drew a deep breath and let the power of the wolf fill his mind. His body sang with it. He smiled. Then he moved into a silent blur of motion and entered the forest. As he grew distant from the pack, their voices faded gradually until all he heard was the medley of nature around him. Birdsongs were loud here among the trees. Trees were loud too, creaking and whispering, rustling and sighing. Rhett kept his ears tuned, his lips parted to enhance his sense of smell even further. And he moved through the forest with complete freedom. He moved like quicksilver. He moved as he had been trained to move.

Every cell of his body craved the scent of wolf. If he found them, he could end them. He could end the danger to his pack here and now. Yes, he’d go back and report to his alpha. Yes, he’d bring other wolves back with him, even if he didn’t smell gunpowder. But when he returned…with Ezra, whose physical strength in the pack was second only to Malachi’s; with Trevor, who was nearly as quick as Rhett though less capable of stealth; with Aaron, Jeremy, Robert, Cassius, Arlo, Patrick, Nathan, Corbin. All of them. Every last wolf. Including their alpha, whocould probably punch straight through a body if he wanted to. Rhett had spent four months schooling them. His pack now knew how to fight, how to move in formation. They were skilled. He’d seen to it, with Malachi’s strong approval.

He darted the entire length of the Lane, zig-zagging so the range of his senses covered the whole ground. He smelled several deer, countless songbirds and game birds, rabbits, squirrels, foxes, coyotes, and once a bobcat. He smelled fish in the creeks, in the pond on Robert and Ann Sterling’s property. But the thick gamey signature that would indicate a wolf like himself…that scent wasn’t here. The rogues had sent their drone but hadn’t trespassed themselves.

Only as he realized he couldn’t sate it did the bloodlust latch onto his throat. Rhett doubled over and gripped his knees. This was old too. As old as the words he’d nearly said aloud to Malachi. When he released the snarl that refused to be buried, it emerged as a half-groan.

Slowly he straightened. Slowly he breathed. He ran a hand down his face, rubbed his throat as the physical sensation of thirst began to ebb. Then he rejoined his pack. He’d been gone mere minutes; Ember, Aaron, Kelsey, and Trevor were still getting settled on the patio, beneath the awning.

“They’re not here,” he said to Malachi, and the alpha nodded.

Rhett had left without saying a word to Vivian, without even meeting her eyes. Now he sat beside her.

“Care to explain all this?” she said.

“It’s a long story.”

“I want to hear it.”

He glanced to his alpha. To tell a story that affected the whole pack… “Malachi?”

“Go ahead,” Malachi said.

Well, he’d tried to take action and found none to take. In the absence of action, maybe talking wouldn’t hurt.

Six

In the last several minutes, Vivian had lost track of the conversation more times than she could count. The subtext was so thick among the pack, she had no hope of deciphering it. But she knew one thing: this pack had been through something awful together. Awful and recent.

She followed Rhett away from the fire pit to stand under an overgrown maple. On their own, without looking up, two people stepping under the shelter of the branches would look casual. It wasn’t, of course. Rhett’s body was taut as a bowstring, his knuckles sharp as he clenched his right hand. Just as Malachi had drawn April into the shelter of his body, Rhett led Vivian to the shelter of the tree.

Well, no, not really. The actions might seem similar, but their motives couldn’t be, since Rhett didn’t see her as his mate.

He growled low in his throat as he used the screen of branches to search the sky. He stood between Vivian and the yard. The tree trunk guarded her back, while Rhett guarded her from the front. His shoulders were drawn back with alertness, his olive-green T-shirt stretched tight across the defined muscles.

“Rhett,” she said.

He didn’t turn his back to the yard until he’d scanned every square millimeter, his head swiveling and his body planted in place. Only then did he face her. His eyes always appeared darker when he was angry, solid gray as though his fury burned off the hint of blue. Right now they looked like lumps of charcoal.

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