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all the time. Of course, he didn't usually take them out on an actual, scheduled date. It was more like, see hot girl in a bar, chat girl up, buy girl a drink, take girl home, enjoy time with girl, set girl loose. Repeat with new girl a few weeks or so later. They never minded, and there were always more of them around. None of them had ever caught his interest enough for a repeat time. Rielle, though, was definitely different. And so damn sexy in that little dress, with her hair all loose and soft around her shoulders.
    Her pretty eyes narrowed a bit at him. Then her face turned a cute shade of pink. She dropped her gaze to the table. He realized he was starting to broadcast his baser instincts, as all wolves tended to do when their senses began to overwhelm their thinking brain.
    Damn. Redirect, redirect. Inside, his wolf grinned a big wolfish grin, tongue lolling. Damn it.
    She unknowingly saved him by opening her mouth first. Too bad he stared at her lush pink lips for a moment too long as she spoke, but that couldn't be helped. How the hell had he never before noticed that she was so pretty?
    “Caleb, I've been wondering about something since we ran into each other that night.”
    He had to hand it to her. She was sweet to not bring up again the fact that he'd almost knocked her over. Forcefully, he made himself drag his gaze up to her eyes. She'd been idly playing with a napkin, though, so she hadn't noticed his very caveman appreciation of her mouth. Yet.
    “What's that?”
    She finally looked up at him and let a half smile light up her face. A soft brown strand of hair wisped over her cheek, ending at her lips. He swallowed.
    “You're so dead set against the rogues,” she said. “I've been wondering why. I mean, I know why in general, of course. But why are you specifically wanting to hunt them down? It's almost as if you have a vendetta.”
    Her expression seemed genuinely curious and open. She really wanted to know. Even so, he felt slightly stunned she didn't get how bad the rogue problem was.
    “Ree,” he began, but the waitress finally made her way over to them. They spent a minute ordering a ridiculously girly drink for Rielle, complete with some silly name and apparently also tiny, colorful umbrellas stuck in it, and thank god a Jack and ginger ale for him.
    “Look,” he said after their waitress zipped away. “They're rogues. Rogues!” He warmed to the subject and heard his own voice rising with the intensity of his viewpoint. “They have no pack affiliations. They have no honor, no decent sense of justice.”
    “Well, they're still like us. They're still shifters,” she said in a quiet tone. She probably didn't have to lower her voice given the surrounding noise, but Pack-trained reflex dictated her responses. Caleb could still hear her perfectly well, of course.
    “They are not like us. Some of them may want to make their own packs, but they want to do it in ways that aren't protocol. They want to steal our females, Ree.” He leaned forward over the table for some emphasis. Even though he knew his brows were lowered in a frown and his wolf looked out of his eyes, she didn't shrink back. He felt both puzzled and intrigued that she wasn't intimidated by him. Everyone else usually was when he got worked up about something.
    “What if it had been you, instead of Rafe and Sara, in that attack? You're not a Guardian. You might be Pack, but you don't have Guardian training. The rogues would have grabbed you and forced you to mate with one of them, Ree.”
    The thought of another wolf, any wolf, but especially a rogue, touching her sent such a powerful wave of possessive anger bolting up his spine he had to stop himself from literally growling. For a long moment, Caleb gripped the metal edges of the patio table and held hard, forcing the pressure against his hands to calm the storm brewing inside. Getting angry was always easy for him. Toning it down was not.
    Rielle just sat quietly across from him.