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He grinned even wider at her defiance and licked his lips.
He would relish the challenge, would he? Well, to crown a queen you must catch her first.
She sprang past him down the aisle he'd already opened, along the tunnel of fur and out to the woods. She ran like the Wolf of the North made of stars in heaven, who with one long stride can leap over the top of Earth. The grasses she crushed made the night air pungent with freedom. But behind her she heard the thunder of Gabriel's pursuit.
Chapter 17
17
Vivian climbed naked through her bedroom window and tumbled onto her bed. She had changed into her human form in the backyard bushes before she scaled the drainpipe to the porch roof. Only a rosy glow tinged the western sky. She hoped the neighbors weren't early risers.
It seemed an eternity since she'd run from the Ordeal. She must have flown like the wind to lose Gabriel, but she hadn't stopped to catch her breath until the sounds of his pursuit were long silent. She'd hidden in a shallow cave near a rocky crest until she was sure Gabriel hadn't tracked her; then she'd taken off for home. She'd never run that far before. The journey had taken all night.
Her palms and soles were bloody, and her body ached. Gingerly she limped to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She ran the water as hot as she could stand and drenched her body, her face, and her hair, as if trying to wash the last twelve hours away. How could I do that to Astrid? she asked herself over and over.
Esmé and Rudy hadn't come home yet, but they wouldn't be far behind her, she was sure. After the celebration, they would have stayed long enough to bury the dead in an isolated spot, then headed back. She cranked up the air conditioner in her other window and locked her door. How could they let her behave that way? How could they actually approve?
She pulled the sheet over her head, but she couldn't sleep. Was she truly obliged to become Gabriel's mate, or did winning the fight only give her first dibs, so to speak? Could she delegate the role? Maybe she could appoint Astrid. She giggled half hysterically.
Bloody Moon, why did Gabriel want her? Now he was pack leader, even some of the mated bitches would slink behind the bushes with him. He could go to one of the other communities and easily bring back a wife.
Vivian's eyes shot open with excitement. That was what she'd suggest. Surely the pack wouldn't condone his mating her against her will, would they? She relaxed and her eyes closed again. Sleep wound a cotton shroud around her.
When Vivian woke it was dark outside. The house was silent. She had slept the day away. She vaguely remembered half waking much earlier when someone rattled her doorknob. That must have been Esmé's voice she'd heard call her name. I'll get up in a minute, she told herself, then rolled over and tumbled back into unconsciousness.
The next time she opened her eyes, it was morning, and there was an insistent rapping on her bedroom door.
"What?" she called out angrily.
"Are you getting up?" Esmé asked.
"No."
"We've got to talk."
"No, we don't."
"Look, it's okay," Esmé said. "You're embarrassed about running away. Everyone understands. You were overwhelmed by what happened. You're young. You're used to boys. A man's a different matter entirely. But you're woman enough to handle him, I know you are, baby. You're my girl."
Boy, does she have hold of the wrong end of the rabbit, Vivian thought. Don't bother telling me how Astrid is, and whether I've crippled her for life. Don't tell me how Bucky is coping with killing a buddy.
"I didn't enter any competition on purpose, and I don't want Gabriel, so go to hell, Mom," she finally answered.
"Vivian!" Esmé sounded more hurt than angry.
The phone rang. "Okay, okay," Esmé said. "I'll leave you alone to get used to the idea." She left to answer the insistent jangling.
Vivian threw a glass across the room. It shattered on the window frame. Even her mother would gladly hand her over to a mate she didn't want.
All day Vivian came out of her room only when she was sure Esmé was elsewhere. She knew it drove her mother crazy. Serves her right, she thought. If I hadn't had to save her ass, I wouldn't be in this fix.
The phone rang constantly, it seemed. Nosy bastards, Vivian thought. Don't they have their own sex lives to keep them busy? She turned her television on loudly to drown out the ringing, but there were only stupid game shows on and a program in which fat women complained that their boyfriends couldn't accept them as they were. She turned the TV off in disgust.
Vivian stared at her unfinished mural of running wolf-kind, and the fine hair on the back of her neck bristled. She wondered if she had enough paint to obliterate it, but a pang of loss cut through her at the thought. Nah, she told herself. That was the good times. The harmony. That's the stuff I want to remember. An ache awoke for the blissful oblivion that seeped through her when she painted, and she went so far as to lift a brush from the jar on her desk, but the grip hurt her still-bruised fingers. I'd have to go get water, she realized. She tossed the brush down.
A squeak on the landing warned her Esmé was close again.
"That boy's on the phone," Esmé announced outside her door.
