Patricia Briggs - Iron Kissed

Adam cuffed him gently. "I wouldn't have listened. Get up and go get some rest." But when Ben stood, Adam pulled him into a hug that proved that werewolves aren't people. Two men, heterosexual and human, would never have touched after a revelation like that.

"Being a werewolf gives you time to get over your childhood," Adam whispered into Ben's ear. "Or it gives you time to destroy yourself with it. I'd rather you be one of the survivors, do you hear me?" He stepped back. "Now go downstairs."

He waited until the door closed behind Ben, and then shook his head. "I owe you," he told the door. "I won't forget."

He dropped down beside the bed as if he were too tired to stand. With the same suddenness, though I thought I was more than adequately hidden, he reached out and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me out from under the bed and onto his lap.

I shivered, torn between the knowledge that I didn't deserve his touch and the tentative understanding that he didn't blame me, no matter how much I thought he should.

"My father always told me that when I heard good advice, I needed to listen to it," he said.

He continued to hold me firmly by the scruff of the neck with one hand, but the other caressed my face. "We're going to wait for a talk until that stuff has worn off completely." His caress stopped. "Don't misunderstand me, Mercedes Thompson. I am mad at you."

He bit my nose once, hard. Wolves do that to discipline their young—or misbehaving members of the pack. Then he tipped his head so it rested on mine and sighed.

"Not your fault," he told me. "But I'm still mad as…mad as heck that you scared me like that.

"Darn it, Mercy, who would have thought that a pair of humans caused all this misery? Even if you had called me, I wouldn't have objected to you going…at least not because I thought it was dangerous. I wouldn't have sent a guard with you just to go talk to some human." He put his face against my neck then gave a half laugh. "You smell like my aftershave."

Hard arms pulled me tightly against him as he said in a quiet voice, "It's only fair to warn you that you sealed your fate tonight. When you knew you were in trouble, you came to me. That makes twice, Mercy, and twice is almost as good as a declaration. You are mine now."

His hands, which had been moving in circles in my fur, stopped and took a good hold. "Ben says you might run. If you do, I will find you and bring you back. Every time you run, Mercy. I won't force you, but…I won't leave or let you leave either. If you can fight that cursed fairy drink, you can certainly overcome any advantage being an Alpha gives me if you really want to. No more excuses, Mercy. You are mine, and I am keeping you."

My independent nature, which would doubtless reassert itself soon, would be outraged by this possessive, arrogant, and medieval concept. But…

Tim's wish that I would always be alone had hit me particularly hard…because it was something I already knew. Nothing like being a coyote raised among werewolves to make you understand that different means not belonging. I didn't belong with my human family either, though I loved them and they loved me.

Under the weight of the unvarnished, possessive intent that began in Adam's words and carried through to his body, my whole world shook on its axis.

He slept eventually, curled up around me as if he were in wolf form, but the lines of strain stayed behind, making him look older—as if he were thirty, say. With Adam surrounding me, I watched as the sky lightened and the new day began.

Somewhere in the house a phone rang.

Adam heard it, too. Jesse's door opened and she ran down the stairs and picked up the phone.

I couldn't quite hear what she said as she was downstairs in the kitchen, but the tone of her voice went from polite to carefully respectful.

Adam stood with me in his arms, then set me on the bed. "You stay there."

"Dad? It's Bran on the phone."

He opened the door. "Thanks, Jesse."

She handed him the phone and peered around the door to look at me. Her eyes were puffy. Had she been crying?

"You go get ready for school," Adam told her. "Mercy's going to be fine."

Today was Thursday morning. The thought galvanized me—I had to get to work…Then I settled back into the bed. I wasn't going back to my garage, not with stray bits of Tim scattered here and there. I should call Gabriel and tell him not to show up after school. I should…

"…someone sent them the video of you tearing Mercy's rapist apart. While I appreciate the sentiment, and doubtless would have done the same thing, it leaves us in an awkward position. That bill cannot pass." Bran's voice wafted over me like a cool breeze of calm that had nothing to do with what he was saying, and everything to do with his being Bran.

"How much of the video did they get?" Adam growled.

"Not enough, apparently. Whoever sent it represented it as an Alpha werewolf attacking a human without provocation. I would like you to take the whole video—I trust it doesn't show our Mercy changing shape?"

"No. But it shows her without clothes."

"Mercy won't care, but perhaps it might be possible to add those black rectangles the news reporters use."

"Yeah. I'm sure Ben can do it." Adam sounded tired. "You want me to go with it, don't you?"

"I'm sending Charles with you. I'm sure that once they have seen the entire video, most of the men on the committee will be ready to cheer you on. The others will keep their mouths shut."

"I don't want that video getting on the Internet," Adam growled. "Not Mercy's—"

"I think we can make sure that doesn't happen. The congressman was very clear about who sent him the tape. I'll see that it is taken care of."

Adam wasn't looking at me. I hopped off the bed and slipped through the still open door.

I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't want to think about people watching a video of last night. I wanted to go home.

Warren was standing at the foot of the stairs talking to Ben, so I dodged into Jesse's room before he looked up.

"Mercy?" Jesse was sitting on her bed with her homework scattered in front of her.

I'd hopped onto the sill of her open window, which was still screenless, but something in her voice made me pause. I jumped onto her bed and nuzzled her neck. She gave me a quick hug before I wriggled free and darted out the window.

I'd forgotten that Tim had mangled my arm—foreleg in coyote form—but it held up just fine when I jumped off a low spot of the roof onto the ground. Nemane had been as good as her word about the other things the goblet could do.

I ran all the way home and stopped on the front porch. I couldn't open the door as I was, but I didn't want to change to human anytime in the next decade.

Before I had time to worry too much, Samuel opened the door for me. He closed the door and followed me to my room, opening that door as well.

I jumped on my bed and curled up with my chin on my pillow. Samuel sat down on the foot, giving me plenty of room.

"I have, entirely illegally, snooped into the medical records of one Timothy Milanovich," he told me. "His doctor is a friend of mine and agreed to leave me in his office for a few minutes. When Milanovich's fiancée left him, he had himself tested and was negative for any disease that you might worry about."

And I didn't have to worry about pregnancy either. As soon as I'd realized that there was a possibility of ending up in either Adam or Samuel's bed, I'd started on the pill. Being illegitimate makes you sensitive about things like that.

I sighed and closed my eyes, and Samuel got off the bed. He closed my door behind him.

It opened again after only a few minutes, but it wasn't Samuel. Warren in his wolf form lurked solemnly behind his Alpha.