,” Abby snapped.
“Maybe so. But the participants didn’t seem to think so. They were very committed to what they were doing.”
“Then is it okay with you that Micah attacked you? Huh? Is it?”
“No,” Luca said. “But—”
“But what?”
“I treated Katrin unkindly. I should not have. She’s not my mate, but still, I should not have shunned her.”
“So, it was okay for him to stab you.”
Shaking her head, Rachel took Abby by the arm and led her away, steering Abby into the bedroom she shared with her husband. She didn’t bother to close the door; instead, she stood with her back to the doorway, forming a blockade of a different kind, one that seemed no less solid than a slab of wood.
“It’s our way,” Rachel said. “The way of the wolf. We live in peace and community most of the time, but the blood can run hot and fierce. The young ones sometimes couple in a way that would probably alarm you. There’s blood involved. Biting, tearing.” She drew in a breath. “Then, more often than not, the one who caused the wounds tends to the injured one in a loving way.”
“Aaron could be killed, Rachel. He could die .”
“In defense of his brother. In defense of our family. It’s the only way to show Micah that this offense won’t be tolerated.”
“It’ll make things a lot worse,” Abby muttered.
“Aaron will fight with honor on his side,” Rachel said. “That will see him through. That, and the strength of the bond. He’ll survive, because he needs to demonstrate to you that he always will. That he brings to your union a strong will, a strong heart, and the ability to become an alpha.”
That struck Abby as being nothing more than more craziness. Thoughts spilled through her head: musclebound professional wrestlers slamming each other to the canvas on TV, football players doing much the same thing, men in expensive suits making decisions that would benefit them and ruin others, dogs fighting in the street.
Then she thought of her father, making judgments that overruled those of his wife, making her look foolish in front of her daughter.
She thought of Lane, telling her that pants made her look “all ass”—and not in a good way, an appealing way.
She slipped past Rachel, out of the bedroom, intending to appeal to Aaron one more time, to tell him that she’d think no less of him, and in fact would think more of him, if he didn’t do this.
But he had already left the house.
Fifteen
“You don’t want this to happen, do you? Don’t you want to stop this?”
Granny Sara was wrapped in a thick knitted shawl, had it pulled up around her neck and head, almost as if she was trying to hide inside it. Her head was bowed and she looked very solemn, and Abby had no idea why she was here, standing with the crowd around the clearing—unless it was to try to talk Micah and Aaron out of this awful fight. But Sara had gone nowhere near her grandson, something that was completely at odds with the way she’d fussed over him before Luca had woken up.
Maybe, Abby thought, this was Sara’s way of rejecting Micah for what he’d done. She was going to bear witness to his defeat.
For a minute Sara didn’t look at Abby at all. Then she shifted her shoulders underneath the heavy shawl and gripped it tighter. “I wish it hadn’t happened,” she said in a small voice. “I wish Micah had come to me and told me how upset he’d gotten. I knew he cared for Katrin, but I had no idea it had gone further than that. But then I’m–” Sara smiled wryly, sadly. “I’m just a human.”
“So, no one will listen to you?”
“Not about something like this. It’s their way.”
Their way.
Our way.
Everyone here kept saying that. Over and over, like it had been etched into their brains when they were children.
But how many times had Abby heard the same thing back home, about a whole group of people, or an individual? Oh, don’t mind what he said. That’s just how he is. Even her
“Maybe so. But the participants didn’t seem to think so. They were very committed to what they were doing.”
“Then is it okay with you that Micah attacked you? Huh? Is it?”
“No,” Luca said. “But—”
“But what?”
“I treated Katrin unkindly. I should not have. She’s not my mate, but still, I should not have shunned her.”
“So, it was okay for him to stab you.”
Shaking her head, Rachel took Abby by the arm and led her away, steering Abby into the bedroom she shared with her husband. She didn’t bother to close the door; instead, she stood with her back to the doorway, forming a blockade of a different kind, one that seemed no less solid than a slab of wood.
“It’s our way,” Rachel said. “The way of the wolf. We live in peace and community most of the time, but the blood can run hot and fierce. The young ones sometimes couple in a way that would probably alarm you. There’s blood involved. Biting, tearing.” She drew in a breath. “Then, more often than not, the one who caused the wounds tends to the injured one in a loving way.”
“Aaron could be killed, Rachel. He could die .”
“In defense of his brother. In defense of our family. It’s the only way to show Micah that this offense won’t be tolerated.”
“It’ll make things a lot worse,” Abby muttered.
“Aaron will fight with honor on his side,” Rachel said. “That will see him through. That, and the strength of the bond. He’ll survive, because he needs to demonstrate to you that he always will. That he brings to your union a strong will, a strong heart, and the ability to become an alpha.”
That struck Abby as being nothing more than more craziness. Thoughts spilled through her head: musclebound professional wrestlers slamming each other to the canvas on TV, football players doing much the same thing, men in expensive suits making decisions that would benefit them and ruin others, dogs fighting in the street.
Then she thought of her father, making judgments that overruled those of his wife, making her look foolish in front of her daughter.
She thought of Lane, telling her that pants made her look “all ass”—and not in a good way, an appealing way.
She slipped past Rachel, out of the bedroom, intending to appeal to Aaron one more time, to tell him that she’d think no less of him, and in fact would think more of him, if he didn’t do this.
But he had already left the house.
Fifteen
“You don’t want this to happen, do you? Don’t you want to stop this?”
Granny Sara was wrapped in a thick knitted shawl, had it pulled up around her neck and head, almost as if she was trying to hide inside it. Her head was bowed and she looked very solemn, and Abby had no idea why she was here, standing with the crowd around the clearing—unless it was to try to talk Micah and Aaron out of this awful fight. But Sara had gone nowhere near her grandson, something that was completely at odds with the way she’d fussed over him before Luca had woken up.
Maybe, Abby thought, this was Sara’s way of rejecting Micah for what he’d done. She was going to bear witness to his defeat.
For a minute Sara didn’t look at Abby at all. Then she shifted her shoulders underneath the heavy shawl and gripped it tighter. “I wish it hadn’t happened,” she said in a small voice. “I wish Micah had come to me and told me how upset he’d gotten. I knew he cared for Katrin, but I had no idea it had gone further than that. But then I’m–” Sara smiled wryly, sadly. “I’m just a human.”
“So, no one will listen to you?”
“Not about something like this. It’s their way.”
Their way.
Our way.
Everyone here kept saying that. Over and over, like it had been etched into their brains when they were children.
But how many times had Abby heard the same thing back home, about a whole group of people, or an individual? Oh, don’t mind what he said. That’s just how he is. Even her
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