Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson #4)(19)

The arm across my shoulders stiffened. I thought back over what I'd said and felt my cheeks warm right up. Part of it was embarrassment... but part of it wasn't. But it hadn't been the Freudian slip that had caught his attention.

Adam stopped. Since he was holding me, I stopped, too. I looked at him, then followed his gaze to my shop.

Whoops. Oh well, I'd been looking for a way to distract him so he wouldn't wonder why I was upset.

This wasn't the ideal way to do it.

"I guess Zee didn't tell you?"

"Who did it?" There was a growl in his voice. "The vampires?"

How to answer that without telling a lie, which he would smell, or starting a war?

If I had known that Marsilia knew I'd killed Andre, I never would have told Adam I was willing to be his mate. Another wolf might understand that a war with the vampires wasn't going to save me, just get more people killed. A war with the vampires here in the Tri-Cities might spread like the plague throughout all the Marrok's dominion.

But Adam wouldn't let it go. And Samuel would be at his side. I would never be the great love of Samuel's life, nor he of mine. But that didn't mean he didn't love me, just as I loved him. And Samuel would bring his father, the Marrok, into it.

Don't panic, keep it casual, I told myself. "The vamps added some decoration to my door, but most of it was Tim's cousin and a friend. You can watch it on the video if you want. Gabriel's mother and siblings are coming out Saturday to help paint it. The police are taking care of it, Adam." The last was because he was still stiff. "Tony thinks it's Christmasy. Maybe I'll leave it for a few months."

He turned his hot gaze on me.

"She still believes in her cousin, Adam. She thinks I made it all up to get out of a murder charge." I let him hear the sympathy for Courtney's plight in my voice, knowing Adam wouldn't approve. About wrong and right, Adam was pretty black-and-white. He'd be irritated with my attitude, and it would distract him. Keep the focus on Courtney and off the vampires.

Adam didn't relax, but he did start walking again.

USUALLY I SHOWER AT THE SHOP AFTER PRACTICE, BUT I didn't want Adam to get a good look at the crossed bones on the door. I wanted to keep him thinking about things other than the vampires until I knew what my options were. So we jumped in my Vanagon (my poor Rabbit was still in repairs from the damage a fae had done to it last week).

Maybe I'd move. If I traveled to another vampire's territory, it might slow Marsilia down, especially if it was a vampire who didn't like her. Running away would chafe, but if I stayed, she'd kill me - and Adam wouldn't take it well and a lot of people would probably die besides me.

I could try to take out Marsilia.

I actually gave that serious consideration, which was a sign of just how desperate I was. Sure, I'd killed two vampires. The first one I'd killed with a lot of help and a boatload of luck. The second one I'd taken while he slept.

I had about as much chance of taking out Marsilia as my cat Medea did of taking on a mountain lion. Maybe less.

While I thought, I chattered to Adam all the way home. My home. Gas was expensive, and he wouldn't mind walking the short distance back to his.

If he wanted to wait while I showered, I figured I could walk with him. I glanced at the sky and decided I had time to take a shower without risking Adam's being the first one to talk to Stefan.

I needed to find out what the artwork on my door meant - and to make sure that running would work.

Stefan might know, but neither question was something I wanted to ask in public. I'd figure out how I was going to get him alone when the time came.

"Mercy," Adam said, breaking into my monologue about Karmann Ghias and air-cooled versus water-cooled engines as I turned into my drive. He sounded both amused and resigned. It was a tone I heard from him a lot.

"Hmm?"

"Why did the vampires paint a pair of bones on your door?"

"I don't know," I told him in a deliberately relaxed voice. "I don't even know that it was the vampires.

The camera didn't catch who it was exactly. Zee and I just figured it was the vampires because of Stefan.

He's going to check with Uncle Mike to be sure it wasn't a fae, though."

"I won't let Marsilia hurt you," he told me in the quiet tones he used when making a vow of honor.

The wolves do that, some of the older ones, anyhow. I wouldn't have thought Adam was one of them.

He was a 1950s model, stuck forever looking like he was in his midtwenties. When I say older wolves, I mean a lot older than 1950, a couple of hundred years at least.

It's not that modern men don't have honor, just most of them don't think of it that way. It gives them a flexibility that the previous generations didn't have. Some of the old lobos take their vows very, very seriously.

What I wouldn't have given to be stupid enough to believe that Adam could promise that Marsilia wouldn't kill me-and even more to believe that he wouldn't kill himself trying to keep his word.

I wasn't resigned to my fate or anything like it, but if I had learned one thing being raised by werewolves, it was to keep a clear eye on probable outcomes and how to mitigate damage. And if Marsilia wanted me dead... well that was just the most probable outcome. Really probable. Enough so that I could feel another stupid panic attack hovering. My first today, if I didn't count a little shortness of breath once or twice.