Page 41 of To Challenge a Wolf

He tore his mouth from hers with all the effort he had left. Their breaths were loud in the soft stillness of the woods. The way Vivian touched him, the way she responded to his touch… As he sat up, she reached for him and tried to pull him back down to the moss with her.

“Not here.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“On the literal ground? Obviously not.” After a moment she sat up and gave him a little smirk. “We could keep making out, though. We’ve barely gotten started.”

“No, Viv.”

“Why not?”

“A man died tonight.” The words burst out of him.

Vivian went very still. Her scent grew somber as she set her hand on his arm. “I know.”

“I’m not sorry he’s dead. If anything I’m sorry Malachi got to him before I did.”

She nodded.

“He—what he did to April—he deserved death for that alone. I believe that, Viv. Any man who assaults a woman that way. He ought to die for it. Only an evil man can do that to a woman.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” she said.

A sudden horrific thought— “Viv, were you ever—?”

“No, Jamie. Not ever. I promise you.”

He blinked. A low rumble filled his chest, and a smile pulled at his mouth until he had to give up the scowl despite their current topic. “Haven’t been called that in ten years.”

“I should hope not. It was mine to call you.”

“It was.” Vivian shivered, and he drew her in close with one arm. “I’ve spent months trying to protect my pack from him. From what he was. And now he’s dead, and my pack are safe, and no part of me isn’t glad about that. But you need to know…I…”

Vivian draped her legs over his and took one of his hands in both of hers. “Your body heat is amazing.”

He drew a deeper breath. The momentary topic switch helped, as she knew it would. After a moment, he could talk again, but he still couldn’t say what she deserved to know. That Stone had dug into him and taken his heart out when he was only a pup. That he was so wrong inside, his own pack couldn’t smell his emotions, because he didn’thaveemotions. And that he’d never in his life encountered another wolf who smelled like nothing but a base essence—until he encountered Drew.

“What is it you want to tell me?” she said.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

She studied him a long moment. “Then for tonight, tell me something else. Something real, Rhett.”

He’d done more than enough talking about himself. He quit pushing down the longing to know her again, to find out what she’d been doing all this time. He let himself ask. “You first. So you’re in Chicago managing a vintage boutique. What else? Did you open a pet shelter? Are you still dancing?”

She gave a quiet laugh. “The pet shelter was a phase. Dancing—yeah, I keep myself in condition, still get to a studio twice a week and dabble in contemporary choreo. I’m not competitive anymore, though.”

He could see her clearly, hair piled on top of her head, confident in a sequin-covered leotard, every movement of her legs and arms precise and sharp, an attack set to music. But in his mind’s eye, she was seventeen. He wanted to see her dance at twenty-seven.

“And about the boutique, I’d like to mention I’m really good at my job,” she said.

“Of course you are,” he said, and she poked his rib. “No, Viv, I mean it. You’re organized and driven. You push and inspire people to get crap done. I bet your store’s sales went nuts after you got promoted.”

Her quiet laugh sent warmth all through him, and her scent gained a layer of contented pride. “They doubled, actually.”

“What’s your store ranking? I know you know.”

“Ranking? We’re not a chain, for crying out loud. We’re an independent…” Her eyebrows rose slowly with building drama. “Do you know what avintage boutiqueis?”

“Sure, like a thrift store.”

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