“Yeah, great, some chance. It’s a male’s world, isn’t it? A female may be queen bitch but she doesn’t get to choose her king.”
“You loved Ivan, didn’t you, Sis?” Rudy asked. “You didn’t beat the crap out of every new girl who came along with a challenge just for the status.”
Vivian watched her mother’s face closely.
Esmé glanced down, but not before Vivian saw her eyes soften. “Yeah,” Esmé said.
“And he loved you. You had his tail between your teeth. Who’s to say the queen bitch isn’t the real pack leader?”
Yes, Vivian thought.
Mom always got her way with Dad.
But what if she’d wanted the power but not him? She couldn’t have had it.
“So you had options,” said Rudy. “You didn’t have to fight for the leader. A female can choose any other mate as long as he’ll have her.”
“That’s a mockery,” Vivian said, startling them. “The match still has to be pack approved, and she isn’t even allowed to whelp without the permission of the leader. What kind of choice is that?”
“Well,” Rudy said, amusement in his eyes. “I didn’t know we had another rebel in the house.”
Esmé laughed. “She’s a teenager, for Moon’s sake. She’s supposed to rebel.”
Vivian bristled. How easily they dismissed her feelings as a stage she was going through. Her mouth closed into a thin line.
Esmé grinned and winked at Vivian. “Never mind, babe. I’m sure we won’t dare deny you when you make your choice. You’d make our lives too miserable.”
Yeah?
Vivian thought.
I might surprise you.
She glared at her mother and drank in silence.
Dammit, there’s no reason I should let pack traditions rule me, she decided.
The Law is supposed to keep us safe and strong and able to birth healthy children, yet the Law wants us to tear each other apart to find a leader. The Law’s a bunch of hypocrisy.
In her room, relaxed after a shower, Vivian stood in the breeze of her fan, enjoying the coolness of air on her wet skin. She smiled lazily, imagining fingers trailing instead of water drops.
There must be a way to cope with Aiden, she thought.
There has to be.
But was Aiden angry with her after last night? She had ruined his surprise. The boys she had known in the past would have been pissed. But then, he wasn’t like the boys she had known, was he? That was the point.
She walked down the hall to the phone.
“Why does he have to drag parents into this?” Vivian grumbled as she ransacked her closet.
Aiden’s family were having their first cookout of the season to celebrate the end of school, and Aiden had invited her along.
“It’ll just be casual,” he’d told her.
Casual! What was so casual about being inspected by parents?
The weather was too hot for jeans, so she pulled out a scarlet tank dress. Parents liked girls in dresses, didn’t they? She wanted them to like her, for his sake. She wiggled into the sheath of cotton and swept her thick hair back with combs. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t dress for him, too.
Rudy shook his head when he saw her come downstairs. “God help the poor bastard, whoever he is.”
Aiden honked outside, and she hurried out before Esmé could have a chance to see who she was leaving with.
She was pleased with Aiden’s low whistle when he saw her, and not even the kiss she gave him could completely wipe the silly grin off his face.
Vivian could smell the aroma of charcoal as soon as they pulled to the curb in front of a large brick, ivy-covered house. Aiden led her through a white picket side gate and past the kitchen steps to the backyard. On a crazy-paved patio a thin, slightly balding man in a striped apron was poking at the embers under the grill.
“Hi, Dad!” Aiden called.
The man looked up, waved a spatula at his son in greeting, and then saw Vivian. His mouth opened a fraction wider, and he raised his eyebrows. He recovered quickly. “You’re Vivian?”
“Pleased to meet you,” she answered.
“Well, you’re an improvement,” Mr. Teague said, and laughed.
“Dad!” Aiden looked mortified.
“He usually goes for the combat boots and black eyeliner types,” Aiden’s father explained. “I’m glad he’s brought home someone normal for a change. His girlfriends usually scare the hell out of me.”
“Stop embarrassing your son.” An attractive woman, older than Vivian’s mother, came down the kitchen steps, carrying a tray. A skinny girl in pink shorts, about thirteen years old, followed her with soda bottles under each arm. The girl eyed Vivian boldly.
“This is my mom,” Aiden said, “and my sister, Ashley.”
“We’re happy you could come,” Mrs. Teague said, but her smile was brittle as she took in Vivian head to toe. She put her tray on the picnic table.
“Yeah,” said Ashley. “Sure.” She dumped the big plastic bottles beside the tray, then flopped into a recliner and dragged the earphones around her neck back to her ears.
“Ashley, there are people present,” her father called over.
Ashley closed her eyes in response, and Mrs. Teague sighed in exasperation. “Want a Coke?” she asked Vivian.
“Yes, please. Great.”
“How do you like your burger?” asked Mr. Teague.
“Rare, thank you,” Vivian answered. She sat on the other recliner and crossed her legs. Aiden sat on the flagstones at her side. She could tell Mr. Teague was sneaking peeks at her. Aiden was too busy looking at her himself to notice.
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