Iron Kissed (Mercy Thompson #3)(86)

Something changed in Ben's face, a subtle shift that Adam saw, too, because he dropped the magic. "And now you know that I understand and believe that."

Ben was abused as a child. It wasn't surprising given his warm and cheery personality, really. I'd just never given much thought about why he was the way he was.

"Thank you for sharing your understanding," Adam said formally.

Ben dropped to his knees as if they had suddenly turned to water. It was a supremely graceful move. "I am sorry that I did not do it...better. More respectfully."

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 ra**st 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.