Lucien Dafoe hobbled between two friends, complaining loudly that he was still too hurt to fight. Vivian sniffed in disgust. Her people healed faster than that.
“I hope someone beats the crap out of him, ” Lucien said, nodding toward Gabriel, who was laughing with a friend. “Someone not so prissy about where and what he can hunt.”
Gabriel pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on the ground. His body was a sculptured, oiled machine straight out of an action movie poster. Vivian caught the smell of his musk on the moist, hot air-the odor of power and excitement mixed with that of cheap strong soap. It made the light fur on the back of her neck bristle.
Over by honeysuckle-strangled bushes stood Willem, Finn, Gregory, and Ulf. Ulf stared beyond his companions, ignoring their cackles and good-humored punches. His thin shoulders were rigid, his fists tight balls at his sides. Vivian followed his gaze and saw two figures entangled in the shadows of a white oak. If logic hadn’t told her otherwise she would have thought they devoured each other. The female broke away, laughing, and left the male behind, clutching after her. She stepped into the clearing and revealed herself as Astrid. It was Rafe who pursued her, his mouth still open and wet from her tongue.
Rafe and Astrid! Vivian glanced back at Ulf and understood the taut fury on his face.
The slut, Vivian thought. She didn’t care who she hurt. Ulf now, Rafe later, if she won the bitches’ match after the male Ordeal, and earned the right to claim the new leader as her mate.
“Did you see that?” Esmé sat down on the log beside Vivian and nodded in the direction of Astrid.
“Yeah,” Vivian answered. “She’s old enough to be his mother.”
Esmé’s lips twitched; then she tried to look serious.
“God, Mom, you don’t approve, do you?”
Esmé grimaced. “No. It can only lead to trouble.” She paused, the smile returning. “Most of us only fantasize about it.”
“Mom!”
Vivian didn’t have a chance to continue. Renata strode up. Her shorts were unzipped and a fluff of tan fur already covered her belly. “Astrid’s gonna cause blood between those young dogs one day.” She wiped the sweat off her upper lip with a hand that tapered into long, long claws. “I’ll kill that alley cat if she harms my son.”
“Don’t worry, Rennie,” Esmé comforted. “Gregory’s the most sensible of those fools.”
Vivian sniffed. “That’s not saying much.”
Esmé dug her with an elbow and Vivian shut up.
“So,” said Renata to Vivian. “Will you dance the bitches’ dance? You’re old enough now.”
“No,” Vivian snapped. She wasn’t about to make an exhibition of herself to win the favor of whichever muscle-bound cretin won.
Esmé laughed. “She wouldn’t want to hurt her old mom, would you, sweetheart? She’s gonna cheer me on.”
Fat chance, Vivian thought.
More likely die of embarrassment.
A hum of interest buzzed around the clearing. With the first pale glimmer of moonlight over the tops of the trees, Orlando Griffin arrived and Rudy with him. They would act as referees this night, to see that the Law was carried out. The pack drew in and gathered around them to wait for Orlando’s word. Vivian, Esmé, and Renata joined the others.
Vivian noticed some strange faces. Word of an Ordeal spread, Rudy had told her. Some lone wolves always showed up. One was a big, evil-looking blond with a scar on his cheek. She wondered if he was strong enough to take Gabriel.
The blond’s slender male companion seemed more interested in catching Esmé’s eye than sizing up the competition. He had a cheeky smile and Esmé made a warm throaty sound of interest. When she didn’t turn her back on him, he came over and introduced himself as Tomas. He laughingly told Esmé to “get real” when she asked if he was going to join in.
“I’m too fond of my skinny ass to risk it fighting those brutes,” he said. “I don’t want to lead a pack. I prefer to hunt alone. Exceptions can be made, however,” he added, winking at Esmé.
“The nerve,” Esmé said after he left to talk to Orlando about helping referee, but she wriggled with pleasure.
Orlando raised his arms and the last whispers died away. “I will recite the Law,” he said.
“When a leader dies by the teeth of a wolf, then the challenger leads the pack. When a leader dies by the teeth of fate then Ordeal is called, for only the swift and strong may lead. All willing adults may stand and fight, and fight they will while they stand. But when the first drop of his blood is shed, a fighter must stand aside. The final pair may fight to the death if neither will yield till he’s died. So speaks the Law.
“Brothers, pay your respects to the Moon.”
The males began to separate from the crowd, shrugging off shirts, undoing flies, but their migration was halted by another voice.
“And sisters,” Astrid said. She marched up to Orlando, and Vivian was outraged and delighted at the same time.
“You are mistaken,” Orlando said politely.
“I am not mistaken,” she insisted. “Recite the Law again, old man. All willing adults may stand and fight. Where does it say females are excluded?”
“It is tradition,” Orlando growled, and the power of his youth burned in his eyes. “No female will fight. This isn’t a game, Astrid. First blood can also be life’s blood, especially when your opponent is twice your size.”
Astrid puffed herself up indignantly, preparing to spit out her next argument, but Vivian never found out what it was because Gabriel spoke.
“Let her.”
“What?” Vivian gasped, in concert with the murmur of astonishment that rose all around.
Orlando’s jaw dropped in surprise, and a smirk of triumph made Astrid’s face look evil.
“She’s right,” Gabriel explained. “The word of the Law does not eliminate females, though tradition has for good reason. But the bold Miss Astrid is welcome to a practical demonstration why.”
Vivian could see the fight on Astrid’s face between pride in being named bold and anger at Gabriel’s dismissal. “She doesn’t stand a chance of winning,” Vivian said to her mother quietly. “Why’s she doing this?”
“I bet I can guess,” whispered Esmé. “She thinks if she can knock out some males, she’ll already have a lead over us. That it’ll be a much more impressive show of strength than beating up some weak little bitches.”
Gabriel gazed steadily at Orlando, waiting for his decision.
Orlando finally spoke. “Does anyone object?”
People looked at each other, but no one answered.
Orlando shook his head as if with regret. “So be it,” he said.
There was a disturbance on the other side of the circle from Vivian. Rafe pushed through, the rest of the Five behind him. “What about us then?”
Orlando’s expression grew thunderous. “Will you dispute the word adult now?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Rafe answered, sticking his thumbs in his belt.
Ulf’s eyes flickered around the circle nervously; the other boys glared defiance.
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