Sam spoke up from behind me, but I didn’t turn to look at him.

“Gabby, it’s the reason he’s been fighting. He’s not relinquishing his tie to you. Every time an unMated shows up here, he will challenge that man for his right for an Introduction. Did Clay get beat up? Only as a byproduct of handing out beatings.”

Clay steadily met my gaze the entire time. It broke my heart a little to know he was fighting so hard to keep me, and all I’d given him in those six months was a kiss. Not even spontaneously given, but relinquished as part of a bribe. I hadn’t rejected him. I just didn’t want to be forced into a choice. If I chose to be with Clay, I wanted it to be on our terms.

“Why is two years of school too much to ask for?” I said to Sam, tearing my guilty gaze from Clay.

“And after that? Then you’ll want time to establish your career. Let’s face it. There will never be a perfect time for this in your life. You just need to make the best with what you have.”

As in, suck it up? My temper boiled over. Screw respect. He just crossed a line. I walked right up to him and poked him in the shoulder.

“No, Sam, you do. I’m not your pawn in this game you play with women’s lives. I went to your Introductions and fulfilled any obligation I felt I owed you for the roof over my head. You have no say in who I see...” Poke. “...or what I do, unless you intend to drag me back to the Compound and physically force me to bite someone.”

Clay growled slightly behind me, obviously sharing my sentiment. I stepped back from Sam and moved closer to Clay.

“It’s time for you to leave, Sam. Don’t come back.” Saying those words hurt just as much as knowing I only mattered to him because of what I meant to the pack, rather than what I meant to him.

“You were never an obligation to me, Gabby.” When I looked away, he tried to persuade Clay. “You know it’d be safer for both of you if the Introductions continued at the Compound. If you keep going like this, there might be someone you won’t beat. Are you willing to risk leaving her alone, then?”

What did he mean by that? Clay could get hurt even worse? I thought they were nearly invincible. Glancing at Clay, I looked at each bruise and saw the real answer. They were hard to beat but made to break, just like the rest of us.

I walked to the door and opened it for Sam, signaling the end of the conversation.

“All right, then.” He walked to the door and turned toward me. “Gabby, call me anytime. I’m here to help you, no matter what you might think right now.”

I nodded stiffly and closed the door behind him. His help would only extend as far as it could help the pack. He’d just proven I meant less to him than they did, but I’d always known that. Why, then, did I let it hurt me?

For a few seconds, I just stared at the door’s surface and tried to let go of my anger. Sam made his choice. I needed to make my own.

I turned to look at Clay. He’d moved closer to me, probably waiting for my reaction to everything Sam had just said. I didn’t want to deal with it, yet. Instead, I reached up and teased my fingers through the whiskers along his jaw.

“Much better, but I’m going to keep at you until it’s all shaved off, and maybe a haircut, too.”

He briefly bared his teeth, re-explaining the reason for the beard.

I spent a moment studying his face. I ran my fingers over his forehead and traced his black eye. He held still, patiently letting me look my fill. Would things have progressed differently if I’d known about a timeframe? I doubted I’d have even let him in the door if I’d known he only had six months to try to convince me.

With a sigh, I stepped away. “I need to get ready for class. Before I go, would you show me where you got the coveralls from?”

He nodded and his lips curled in a slight, secretive smile. I definitely liked seeing his lips.

My hunch had been right. He pulled into a small auto body shop on South Mitchell. The street name tickled a memory. I couldn’t place it until the mechanic currently working looked up at our approach. Cleaning his hands on a rag, he smiled at us.

“Dale from the parking lot?” I whispered, looking at Clay questioningly. He just nodded. It explained his secret smile and his interest in books about auto mechanics.

Clay exited the car and moved to open my door. I’d thought I would get a drive by tour, not a walking one. Wide eyed, I stepped out.

Dale walked toward us. “Hi there, Gabby. Glad Clay finally brought you around.” He held out his freshly wiped hand. I clasped it briefly. “I have to tell you that I was surprised when Clay showed up and was as good as you boasted.” I didn’t recall actually boasting. “Although, it doesn’t look like he’s been taking care of your car.”

Clay said nothing in his defense—of course—leaving the talking to me.

“I’m always running back and forth to my classes. It’s hard to give it up for any amount of time.” I shrugged away his question. “Speaking of which...” I looked at Clay. “I really need to get going, or I’ll be late.” I turned back to Dale. “It was nice seeing you again, Dale. I hope stopping in was okay. I really wanted to see where Clay was working.”

“Stop by anytime.” He waved as we walked out and got back in our car.

“I’m sure there was some type of logic to picking that place,” I said to Clay as he drove us home. “Someday you’ll have to tell me about it.”

By Friday, everything seemed back to normal with my pull. Men once again noticed me. Their eyes followed me around campus. Thankfully, they seemed to remember my repeated rejections from the beginning of the semester and didn’t approach me anew.

I did wonder what exactly had happened, though. The suspicions that floated around in my head needed further examination, but I wanted to talk through them while Clay listened.

When I walked through the door just before five, an empty house greeted me. I really needed to find out his work schedule.

Rachel got home a little after five. As soon as she walked in the door, she announced she’d decided to go out to a dance club. She continued to her room without waiting for a response from me. I followed her, needing the company. Life had just been a little too weird for me over the past week.

“Don’t suppose you’d like to come with?” she asked, looking at the options in her closet.

I sat in the middle of her bed safely out of the way of any clothing options she tossed behind her.

“You know how it is,” I said as I plucked at a string in her quilt. “It’s just worse if they’re drinking.”

“Which one do you like better?” Rachel asked, demanding my attention. She’d pulled two dresses from her closet. “This one?” She held up a red dress with a tuck that crossed the middle to accentuate the wearer’s curves. “Or this one?” She indicated a standard black dress with a twist. The real hemline was shorter than the red’s, but a secondary hemline comprised of strands of beads hung from the first hemline giving the illusion of another six inches.

“I think the black one would be more fun to dance in.”

“I think you’re right.” She set both on the bed and rummaged in her jewelry box. “I have an idea. Peter can’t go out tonight. I think we should make it a girl’s night out.” She turned with something in her hand and arched a brow at me. “Unless you have plans with Sir Talks-A-Lot?”

“No, but—”

She tossed what she held in my direction. By reflex, I caught it.

“Have you ever tried wearing a ring? Some friends of mine do it when they want to go out to have fun and not be bothered by anyone.” She grabbed the black dress, handed it to me, then begged. “Let’s just try. It’s a club with extremely expensive drinks. The prices discourage an all-out drunk, and it has great music.”

I hesitated, thinking of Clay. Did I really want to sit here, waiting? It wouldn’t help him get home faster. The niggling concern that his delay related to another challenge reared its head. But, Sam had assured me that the challenger would want to heal between fights. If Clay dished out more than he got, the other guy wouldn’t be ready yet, anyway.