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“No,” I said.
“You’re strong enough. Especially with help.” He glanced at Ben suggestively. Like he thought we would make a good alpha pair.
This was crazy.
“No. No way. I lost that fight. I’m in exile, and you know what? I like being in exile. I don’t want to go back. They can keep the damn pack. I’m sorry, Rick, but you’re going to have to find another way to get the werewolves on your side.”
“The situation’s changed since you left. Degenerated. How long have you been gone, six months?”
“Eight. Nine, maybe.”
“Three more from your pack have died in that time. Carl and Meg killed them. You and T. J. stirred up the rest of the pack, and those two are barely maintaining control. It’s unhealthy, Kitty. It’s on the verge of anarchy. It needs help to make it safe for its members again.”
I couldn’t save the world. I couldn’t solve everyone’s problems. I was barely keeping my own life together.
“What makes you think I could do that?”
“Because you almost did it eight months ago. You’ve grown stronger since then. I can tell just by looking at you.”
“No.”
Ben took my hand, squeezed it. His turn to comfort me, now. He said, “Kitty’s right, this isn’t the best time to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m running out of time,” he said. “The city is running out of time. Some vampires don’t care about control.”
I shook my head. “Rick, I can’t save everyone. The thing is, I like being a rogue. I like being on my own. I like not having to worry about a pissy alpha looking over my shoulder all the time, or worrying what a dozen other werewolves are doing behind my back. I get to have my own life.”
“Your own life—with your mate.”
Pack of two. I kept forgetting. “That’s right.”
“What would it take to bring you back to Denver?” Rick said.
I glared. “Nothing will bring me back to Denver. I’m sorry.”
“Well. Thanks for your honesty.” He stood and shook out his coat.
I walked him to the door, with Ben lurking behind us, trying to be menacing and unobtrusive at the same time. It made him look surly.
To Rick I said, “It’s awfully trusting of you, telling me what you’re planning. There’s a lot of people in Denver who’d like to know about it.”
“If you were on good terms with any of them, I might be worried.” He smiled a crooked smile. “You’re trusting enough to invite me into your home. I’m returning the favor.”
I wouldn’t have thought twice about inviting a friend into my home. But Rick gave the action gravity. In his world, one couldn’t take such invitations for granted. I wondered: Had he expected me to say no? Would he have turned around and driven away if I hadn’t offered the invitation? Had he only told me his plans after I passed that test?
“When’s it happening?” I asked, testing this new trust we’d apparently established.
He shrugged. “I’m still marshaling forces. Soon.”
“How do I find out how it all turns out?”
“Come to Denver in a month or so. See if anyone tries to kill you.” That smile again.
“I hate you people. I hate this crap.”
“Then stay in Pueblo.” With a sarcastic edge he added, “I’m positive no one will bother you here.”
That was some kind of dig, I was sure.
