"No."
"King Lykaon of Arcadia was a werewolf. He didn't try and hide it. We call ourselves the lukoi in his memory."
"If you're not Freki anymore, what are you?"
"Fenrir, challenger."
"The giant wolf that kills Odin at Ragnarok."
"I'm impressed, not many people would know that."
"Two semesters of comparative religion," I said. "Can a woman be Ulfric?"
"Yes, but it's rare."
"Why?"
"They'd have to win a knock-down drag-out physical battle. All the power in the world won't stop someone from pounding your face into the ground."
I would have liked to argue, but I didn't. He was right. Not because I was female. Small men get their asses kicked, too. Size matters if both people are equally well trained.
"Why don't the female alphas have to duke it out to win the top spot?"
"Because the Ulfric and his lupa are a mating pair, Anita. He doesn't want to get stuck with a woman he can't stand."
I looked at him. "Wait a minute. You're next in line to lead the pack. If you succeed Marcus, do you have to sleep with your lupa?"
"Technically, yes."
"Technically?" I said.
"I won't choose one. I won't sleep with someone just so the pack can feel secure."
"Glad to hear it," I said, "but does that jeopardize your standing in the pack?"
He took a deep breath, and I heard it sigh outward. "I have a lot of support among the pack, but some of them are bothered by my morals. They think I should pick a mate."
"And you won't, because . . . of me?"
He glanced at me. "That's a big part of it. It wouldn't be only one time, Anita. An alpha couple binds for life. It's like a marriage. They usually marry each other in real life, not just in the pack."
"I can see why the pack leader gets to pick his mate."
"I've picked my mate," Richard said.
"But I'm not a werewolf."
"No, but the pack considers you a dominant."
"Only because I killed a few of them," I said.
"Well, that does tend to impress them." He slowed down. There was a line of pine trees along the left-hand side of the road, too regular and too thick to be natural. He turned down a gravel driveway in the middle of them.
The driveway curved downhill, and at the bottom of a shallow valley was a farmhouse. Hills thick with trees poured out around the house. If there had ever been fields, the forest had reclaimed them.
The driveway opened into a small gravel lot that was crowded with cars, at least a dozen of them. Richard jerked the car into park and was out the door before I could unbuckle my seat belt. I had to run to catch up and was at his back just as he flung open the barn door. There was a thick wall of cloth hanging inside the door, not a curtain but more a barrier. Richard pulled it aside, and light flooded out around us. He stalked into that light, and I trailed after him.
There were lights everywhere, hanging from the rafters like large, ugly fruit. About twenty people stood around the open interior of the barn. Two cameras were trained on a set, made up of two walls and a king-size bed. Two cameramen were sort of draped on the cameras, waiting. A long table thick with take-out bags and cold pizza was set near the entrance. Over a dozen people were clustered around the food. They glanced at us as we entered. A handful of humans looked hurriedly away and began inching back. The lycanthropes stared, their eyes almost motionless, intent. I suddenly knew what it must feel like to be a gazelle near a lion pack.