Paul jogged in place on one side of the padded floor, stopping every ten or fifteen seconds to stretch or do a little shadowboxing. He was a tall man with blond hair and a short red beard. His skin was the kind that is usual for redheads, pale and freckled. The excitement of the impending fight left him flushed. Like Adam, he wore only a pair of gi pants.
There is no tradition that dictates dominance fights have to be done in human form. It is common, though, because it makes the challenge more about skill and strength. When you are armed with fangs and claws, a lucky hit can take out a more skilled opponent.
On the far side of the mats from Paul, Adam stood in horse stance, head bowed, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed. All signs of pain were gone from his face, but he hadn't been able to eliminate the pain-caused stiffness in the time that he'd walked from the house to the mat. Even if he had, only an idiot would look at the broken scabs on his feet and hands and not understand that he was in trouble.
As Alpha, even as badly hurt as he had been, he really should have been healing faster than this. Granted that werewolves, even the same werewolf, will heal wounds at different rates depending upon a number of things. He might have been hurt worse than he'd shown us, or the trouble he'd been having with his pack could be interfering with his ability to heal. I tried not to look worried.
Jesse and I had the equivalent of ringside seats at the edge of the mat on the side where Adam stood - traditional for the family of the Alpha, but not smart when neither of us could reasonably defend ourselves if the fight rolled off the mats. Sam stood beside Jesse, and Warren stood between us, presumably to keep the combatants from hurting us.
Adam wasn't wearing a watch, but at exactly nine thirty by the clock on the wall, he raised his head, opened his eyes, and nodded at Darryl.
Wolves aren't much given to long speech-making. Darryl strode from the sidelines to the center of the mat. "Paul has chosen today to challenge our Alpha," he announced baldly. His lips twisted as he said, "He eschewed the formality of running the challenge by the Marrok."
No one murmured or looked surprised. They all knew what Paul had done.
There was the bare chance that the Marrok would look at the mess the pack was in and allow that Paul had no choice but to challenge. The chance that the Marrok wouldn't kill Paul would have been slightly greater if Adam hadn't been hurt already. But Paul probably thought that he was in the right and that he could convince the Marrok of the same thing.
I suppose anything is possible. I don't think Paul understood just how unlikely that was. He'd never, to my knowledge, actually met the Marrok. Henry, who had, probably told Paul that it would be all right. People like Henry are good at getting others to believe them.
Darryl looked around the audience. "My job is to see that you stay off the mats. I am willing to ensure that this is a fair fight with your life. Are we clear?"
"Excuse me," said Mary Jo's voice.
She was just this side of five feet tall so I didn't see her until she stepped onto the mat in front of Darryl.
"I call challenge on Paul," she said.
And then there was noise, a great howl of noise as the whole garage full of werewolves objected - women don't fight in challenge fights.
Darryl raised his hand and quiet spread reluctantly.
"I'm within three of his rank," she said. Her eyes were properly on Darryl's feet, though her face was turned to him. "It is within my right to challenge him for the right to fight the Alpha."
I stared at her. This was not something I'd have expected of the Mary Jo who had allowed the fae to set fire to my house while she was supposed to be standing guard.
"You're not within three ranks," growled Darryl.
She held up her hand. "Paul," she said. Then she held up one finger "Henry." Another finger. "George and me."
She was right. That was where I'd have put her, too.
"You are an unmated woman," Darryl said. "That puts your rank at the bottom. Alec is after George."