“What’s the other?” Conall asked in a voice that was deceptively soft. “Just so we’re clear.”
Rafael’s eyes left her and he threw Conall a mocking glare. “After meeting Vivienne, I’ve decided that I want your title, and I want her as well.”
“Excuse me?” Vivienne began, outraged at this obviously crazed man. She wasn’t a bone they could fight over, and there was no way Rafe was getting her.
“So you’re challenging me for my position and my mate?” Conall asked, and Vivienne found it surprising his voice was so calm when his rage was hitting new levels in his body and sending her into overdrive.
Rafael nodded. “I want everything that once belonged to you. Everything.”
A large wolf suddenly broke through the clearing. His pelt was a multitude of dark colors, mostly gray and black, but the fur around his muzzle and neck was a pristine white.
He stopped a few feet from Conall, and turned to growl at Rafael. Moments later, another wolf, this one blond and just as big as the other, skidded to a halt on the other side of the gray wolf, and mimicked him.
“Call off your mutts, Conall.” Rafael’s eyes flashed yellow as he stared at the new arrivals.
“Leave him,” Conall barked, and the two wolves stopped their growling, but made no move to retreat.
“Saturday,” Conall groused.
“So soon?” Rafael lifted a brow. It was Friday.
“You win, you can have my title.”
“And Vivienne,” Rafael added, only to have Conall snarl and take a few steps in his direction.
“Conall….” Vivienne’s voice trailed off, but it was enough to bring the angry alpha under control. “No.”
Rafael shrugged, a quick movement of his shoulders under his leather jacket. “Whatever. When you’re dead, she’ll come to me willingly.”
Vivienne almost wished Conall would attack him now. She wasn’t even going to hold him back. Rafael was ridiculous, and deserved to have some sense and manners knocked into him.
To prove his stupidity, he smiled at her, biting his bottom lip. In less than a second, Conall charged him, flinging him easily into a tree and waiting as he righted himself. Rafael seemed ready to retaliate, but he dusted off his leather jacket and shook his head. “No use fighting you out here when the pack’s not watching. Tomorrow.”
When he disappeared into the trees, the two wolves, who Vivienne guessed were Sloan and Raoul, followed him. She approached Conall quickly. “What was that about?”
Conall spun around and caught her shoulder with one hand. He buried his nose against the side of her neck, inhaling deeply, before moving to her clavicle, then lower still. Vivienne blinked rapidly before shaking her head and trying to push him away.
“What are you doing?” she managed, catching his head as he sniffed at her arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” he demanded.
Vivienne shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“Did he touch you?” Conall continued, blue eyes boring into hers.
“No,” Vivienne replied, before remembering the kiss Raoul had placed against her hand.
“He kissed your hand?” Conall snapped, and she cursed the mating connection that allowed him into her mind. His rage tripled, and Vivienne felt her body break out in almost anticipatory gooseflesh. What the hell was wrong with her?
“It wasn’t like that, Conall. He was being a gentl—”
“Rafael Mathias is no gentleman, Vivienne,” Conall snarled. “And I don’t want any other male touching you but me. Ever.”
Eyes narrowing, she pushed out of his grasp. “What?”
He repeated it slowly, as if she were an invalid who wouldn’t understand, which made Vivienne angrier. After a lot of blinking, and huffing, she finally found her voice.
“So, I’m not allowed to be around any men, but you can be around whoever you please? Did your pack miss the century where females protested for rights and actually got them? Seriously. And what did Rafe mean that he was challenging you for me as well? Even if you lost, he’ll never have me. What the hell is wrong with all of you?”
Conall grabbed her hand and turned, pulling her with him. Vivienne had to run to keep up with him. “Conall, you’re leaving your clothes.”
He didn’t answer, just kept up that pace until they were in the house. Vivienne was briefly reminded of a similar encounter with Sloan, and her anger was no less fierce simply because it was Conall.
“I know you’re angry about Rafe, Conall—”
“Rafael!” he corrected, obviously taking affront to the intimacy of a nickname.