Page 75 of To Challenge a Wolf

“No. You’re not to blame for Rhett’s actions any more than you’d be to blame if your apartment floods tomorrow, or you get a flat tire.”

She bit her lip and stared down at her hands, which were clenched together, fingers twined. Shehadgotten a flat tire a couple years ago. She had shouldered inner blame for it. Wondered what she did to attract it.

“The entire belief is trash. I’ve said so before, and now I need you to hear me.”

“But I’ve got to…to make my future. Nobody’s going to do it if I don’t.” Her voice sounded small. She couldn’t look up.

This time the hiss was soft. After a long moment, he said, “The woman in Rhett’s pack who was assaulted. Is she to blame for it? Did she somehow bring it on herself?”

Now she did look up, her pulse pounding, her hands tightening in her lap. “I can’t believe you said that. Blaine, that’s—that’s ahorriblething to say.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I wouldneversay that. I would never even think it, not ever.”

“Then you’re inconsistent. If your ‘universal laws’ don’t work for everyone, then they don’t work.”

“But—but I—but it’s—” She threw up her hands. “It’s a bad example.”

“All right.” His voice fell, and at a lower volume the musicality seemed to rise. A melody seemed to run beneath his next words,a texture…maybe something like velvet. “The anniversary I told you about, which has me looking like this”—he gestured to his waxen face—“because of memories I can’t begin to describe, a crime done to me when I couldn’t defend myself. Is that pain my fault, Vivian?”

Tears fell for him. She pushed aside the loss of Rhett, the hurt in her own heart. “Oh, Blaine, no.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “But if this law is real, then the answer is yes.”

“No. Not April. And not you.”

“Well, you can’t hold yourself to a standard you wouldn’t inflict on anyone else. No one who cares about you will allow it, for one thing. And for another, it’s rather arrogant of you.”

A broken laugh escaped. Then she covered her face and cried for a while. At some point she realized the scent of tea had seeped into the room. When she looked up, Blaine stood in front of her with a cup and saucer. He handed it to her, and she sipped. Decaf, of course. He’d made it just as she loved it, sweetened with a little honey.

“Thanks,” she whispered. Heat flooded her face. She’d been so determined not to cry on him.

“No need for embarrassment,” he said as he resumed his seat across from her.

“Do you actuallysmellmy blush? Like, blood in my cheeks?”

“Of course.”

“That seems kind of gross.”

“Only to a human.” His mouth curved with a hint of mischief. “How are you feeling now?”

“I guess I needed a good cry. I feel…fresh, I think. Ready.”

“Not to drive back to Tennessee, I hope.”

“No. I…I thought I could regroup, rethink strategies, but I’m starting to feel kind of mad. Mad and sad. I thought he’d stop me. He knew I was leaving early, and he let me.”

The hiss now was sharp. He was doing a lot of hissing tonight, more than usual. Probably his own emotions were nearer the surface, given his exhaustion. She knew with sudden diamond clarity what to do next.

“I’m staying the night,” she said.

One eyebrow arched toward the wavy hair that tended to brush his forehead despite whatever product he used to tame it. “Pardon me?”

“We’ve established you can’t sleep in an empty house and you haven’t called any other friends for help. So I’ll stay, and you won’t be alone in the house.”

“I’d never ask that of you.” Blaine looked away from her, toward the dark windows. “I’m capable of handling my own troubles without burdening other people.”

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