Page 86 of To Challenge a Wolf

He tried to ignore them, but their glad excitement drew him nearer. He growled some more as he got to his feet, gave the rushing headache a few seconds to ease up again, and shuffled to the window. In his yard were two women and two wolves. Malachi, hulking and golden, stood beside April. His head was pushed against her side, and she stroked his neck absently. Rhett stepped out onto the porch but didn’t join them in the yard. He sank into an Adirondack chair, energy suddenly spent just from watching the other two.

Trevor’s wolf form was sandy-blond, almost identical to his human hair color. His electric-blue eyes were startling in his wolf form until you got used to them. Right now he was proving just how predictable he was, behaving exactly as Malachi and Rhett had described and laughed about a week ago. He frolicked like a golden retriever. His tail wagged incessantly, swishing the air. He paused to bark and yip, to raise his front paws off the ground and then jump forward toward Kelsey, who squealed and leaped back and then rushed to hug him around his neck.

“My wolf’s a wolfie-wolf,” Kelsey giggled, and Trevor barked his laughter.

For crying out loud. Sure, both Rhett and Malachi had noticed the muting of the moonbound drive in their alphabound forms; and sure, Trevor was a mostly docile wolf even under the full moon. But he had no business ruining the dangerous reputation of all wolves everywhere with his tail-wagging and frisking around the yard in broad daylight. Rhett started to roll his eyes, then thought better of it, though while he watched his friends being happy and safe together, his headache all but faded away.

If Vivian were here, would Rhett show his wolf form to her? Unlike Trevor, he had to stop and consider the question. The privacy custom of the full moon was ingrained in every wolf. Shoot, Malachi had nearly relocated the pack when Ember broke the custom; his precious lore-books had allowed no other choice. If Ember hadn’t willingly joined the pack, bonded herself to Aaron, would Malachi have gone through with it? If he had, Trevor and Kelsey wouldn’t this minute be playing in the yard like the children they’d been when they first met. April surely wouldn’t have found the pack either. In fact April likely wouldn’t be alive now, standing serenely beside the alpha, laughing quietly at Trevor and Kelsey’s antics. And without April, Malachi would still be moonbound, unaware of his own power.

Rhett could pull on threads all day. Maybe fate was stronger than he thought. Maybe Kelsey and April would have found their wolves some other way. Well, he didn’t need to know the mysteries of fate. He only needed to know his pack was safe and happy, and his mate… The pain in him now wasn’t dire, didn’t bring him to his knees. It was raw and lonely. It rose in his wolf heart like a sad tide. Vivian had brought them back together, done everything while he’d done nothing but wall himself off and hurt her. He hid his face in his hands. Yes, of course he would let her see his alphabound form, if only she still wanted to see him at all.

A gamey, sea-salt essence approached him. A heavy, furry head rested on his knee. He looked up. “I’m not petting you, Trevor.”

Trevor chuffed through his teeth, then tilted his head and whined.

“My mate,” Rhett said. “I need my mate. My Vivian.”

He was feeling feverish again, but this time his brain didn’t seem to be the heat source. Chills rolled over his body, though his face was warm. He shivered in the chair. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard as sudden intense nausea gripped his stomach.

Trevor gave another whine, then bounded around the side of the cabin and reappeared, clothed and in human form, less than thirty seconds later. He pressed his palm to Rhett’s forehead and said, “Malachi.”

Rhett spent the next half-minute in a haze of nausea and chills, only vaguely aware when the others hurried to the porch. By then Malachi too had changed to his human form.

“He’s ill again,” the alpha said with a low growl of worry.

“Yeah, but I think this is the pre-fading,” Trevor said. “I think it just hit him.”

“Great,” Rhett said.

“Mal, if you’ll get him into my truck, I’ll drive him to Vivian.”

“Now?” Kelsey said.

“Babe, I can spare him eleven miserable days.”

Rhett growled. “I’ll drive my own truck to see my own mate. Don’t try to stop me, Trevor.”

“I won’t have to,” Trevor said. “You’ll fall flat on your face halfway down the porch steps.”

Rhett tried to prove him wrong and instead proved him right. At the last moment, too kind to let him fall, Trevor caught him. Rhett had to let Malachi lift him again, tuck him into Trevor’s truck cab. April bundled him with a blanket against the fever chills. Kelsey told him to stay hopeful, that Vivian loved him without a doubt.

Then Trevor started driving.

Twenty-Two

When Vivian made her suggestion, she only half-expected it to work. Surely her presence as a measly mortal wouldn’t affect a vampire’s feeling of safety or lack thereof. But Blaine had slept last night. Around two in the morning, she’d tiptoed to the closed bedroom door, under which spilled a fairly bright night light. She stood there for at least two minutes, and he didn’t call out to her. If he’d been awake, he’d have acknowledged her lurking.

She had slept soundly in the guest room, woke sans alarm at eight and immediately checked her phone. Nothing from Rhett. Well, forget him. She didn’t deserve to be shut out and pushed away. Ten years searching, and the wolf had turned out to be a true idiot.

Blaine’s parting words last night had been an invitation to make herself at home in his kitchen—or to order delivery if she preferred. He’d insisted on giving her a credit card for the purpose. She’d rolled her eyes and pocketed the thing, but she wasn’t going to use it.

She was, however, going to raid his kitchen. Out of curiosity if nothing else.

She found a garden’s worth of fresh produce in the fridge along with obviously expensive filets of steak and salmon, three cartons of eggs, various sauces and condiments…and of course, lining every door shelf, a clinical contrast to all the colorful vegetables, dozens of blood packs.

Vivian could hardly imagine a better representation of Blaine Calder than the contents of his refrigerator.

She hoped he was okay. No reason to think otherwise. He’d been sleeping for only ten hours, and he’d probably need a few more days. But she wished she could poke her head in and make sure.

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