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“The pack abides by certain laws. Most are unwritten but passed down through generations,” he began in his usual cool and level tone. She nodded, wanting him to continue. “Although you were provoked by Samia, she will now have a greater reason to be granted a blood rite.” When Vivienne’s brows lifted, Sloan said, “You have drawn blood not once, but twice of the same wolf.”
Nodding, she asked slowly, “So what you’re saying is that although she provoked me, she’s likely to get a blood rite?”
“Yes, especially as she’s requested it before. This latest attack will only tell the pack you are strong enough, and able to fight Samia in a blood rite.”
Vivienne turned back to her toast. Not wanting to eat it cold, she grabbed a knife, stuck it into the cream cheese, and began slathering the two pieces of bread.
“Why is everyone so afraid of me fighting Samia?” she murmured to herself, thinking that if a blood rite was what it took to get Samia to keep her distance, she’d gladly fight it.
Although it was a rhetorical question, Sloan answered anyway, “Because if you lose, the pack will never respect you as an alpha and if you fight her and lose before the mating ceremony, some may even try to prevent it.”
As Vivienne bit into a slice of the toast, she lifted a brow. Conall would never allow that.
“I said try,” Sloan repeated, and she could have sworn there was a slight twinkle in his eye before it disappeared.
“And if I won this blood rite? She’d have to keep away from me, right?”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded once. “If you won, Samia would have to show you her belly, and at that time you can do whatever it is you wish to her.”
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “Show me her belly?” She didn’t want to see any naked part of Samia, least of all her belly.
“A sign of submission,” he clarified.
“Oh…right,” Vivienne muttered, taking another bite of the toast. As she chewed, she had a vague memory about watching a special on wolves with Cassie. That had been when Animal Planet was Cassie’s god. Vivienne made sure she’d swallowed the mouthful before speaking again. Her mother had raised her in true ladylike fashion. Well, her mother had raised both her and Cassie in that fashion, but she had more of it. “Any more pack laws I should be aware of, Sloan?”
He seemed to contemplate that and then finally said, “As the situations arise, we will explain them to you.”
“So there’s nothing I’m absolutely not allowed to do?”
Sloan began shaking his head. “Yes. You should stay at least ten feet away from every unattached male until the mating ceremony.”
Vivienne’s brows furrowed. The pack certainly had some strange rules.
“Is that because their mamas will come after me, fangs bared?” she joked, trying to figure out the logical reason for that rule.
He shook his head and took a few steps away from her. “No, it’s for their protection.”
“Their protection?”
“Yes. You may not recognize it because he would never hurt you, but until the ceremony is completed, Conall will be…feral.”
“Oh,” was all that she could say. She remembered Conall’s voice when he’d asked about Sloan last night. “Oh.”
Sloan’s eyes seemed to warm in amusement when he heard the recognition in her voice.
“Is there anything else you want to know?”
Vivienne decided then that she liked Sloan. He wasn’t as outgoing or outrageous as Raoul but something told her Sloan was a protector at heart. He’d treated her as he had yesterday because he’d known Samia was going to demand a blood rite. Plus, for a man who didn’t like to speak, he’d just told her more about pack law than anyone else since her arrival.
“No, that’s all for now. Thanks.”
Sloan nodded and walked out, and Vivienne turned her attention to the other piece of toast. She’d just polished that one off, and was placing two more slices into the toaster, thinking her sex-marathons with Conall were definitely great for her appetite, when her cell phone began vibrating in her jean pocket. She pushed the lid for the toaster and reached for the phone. It was her mother.
Vivienne smiled as she flipped the phone open. It was possible Evelyn had instinctive psychic abilities. The woman seemed to always know when her daughter wanted to speak with her.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Have you been having dreams?”
Vivienne blinked and stared at her phone. That wasn’t how her mother usually greeted her. It was usually, “Hello, ma chère” or “Hello, ma puce” or some other endearment starting with “Hello.”
