Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

enough to challenge Warren. Something Adam had just given him permission to do.
    Paul gave a small, pleased nod and left the room with brisk steps, unaware that Warren would wipe the floor with him. If Warren survived—by Samuel’s careful focus, I knew that was still in doubt.
    Adam watched the man leave with a brooding gaze. He lifted it at last and saw me watching him. His eyes narrowed and he came up to me and took my arm, tugging me out of the room behind him.
    He led me to Jesse’s room, hesitated and dropped my arm. He knocked once, lightly, on her door and then opened it. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, her nose red and tears running slowly down her face.
    â€œHe’s holding his own,” Adam told her.
    She scrambled to her feet. “Can I go see him?”
    â€œBe quiet,” he told her.
    She nodded and headed for Warren’s room. When she saw me, she hesitated, then gave me a smile like sunshine peeking out from the clouds of Warren’s condition. Then she hurried past.
    â€œCome,” Adam took my arm again—I really disliked that—and escorted me to another closed door. This one he opened without knocking.
    I held hard to my irritation as I jerked free and walked all the way into the room. If I was irritated, I wouldn’t be afraid. I really hated it that I was afraid of Adam now.
    I folded my arms and kept my back to him, only then realizing that he’d brought me to his bedroom.
    I’d have recognized it as Adam’s room, even if it hadn’t smelled of him. He loved textures and warm colors and the room reflected that from the dark brown Berber carpet to the Venetian plaster treatment on the buttercream walls. There was an oil painting as tall as I was and twice as wide on one wall, a mountain forest scene. The artist had resisted the impulse to add an eagle in the air or a deer in the stream.
    A human might have found the painting boring.
    I touched the canvas before I realized I had moved. I wasn’t familiar with the name of the artist, which was scrawled almost illegibly on the lower right corner and on a small brass plaque on the center of the frame. The title of the piece was Sanctuary .
    I turned away from the painting to find Adam staring at me. He had his arms crossed and there were the little white marks along his wide cheekbones that told me he was in a temper. That in itself wasn’t unusual. He had a hot temper and I was pretty good at getting him worked up—though not lately. And not, I would have sworn, today.
    â€œI had no choice,” he snapped at me.
    I stared at him without the foggiest notion what he was talking about.
    My doubtlessly stupid look seemed to enrage him further. “This will keep Paul from ambushing him. It has to be a real challenge, in front of witnesses.”
    â€œI know,” I told him. Did he think I was stupid?
    Adam watched me for a few seconds then turned away and began to pace rapidly back and forth across the room. When he stopped, he faced me again and said, “Warren has more control of his wolf than any of my others, and Ben, despite his attitude is nearly as good. They were the best of my wolves to send after the sorcerer.”
    â€œDid I ever say differently?” I snapped. The painting had distracted me—but Adam reminded me that I was trying to be angry with him. Happily that wasn’t difficult.
    â€œYou’re angry with me,” he said.
    â€œYou’re yelling at me,” I told him. “Of course I’m mad.”
    He waved his hands impatiently. “I don’t mean now. I mean earlier in Warren’s room.”
    â€œI was angry with the stupid wolf who came in to challenge Warren as soon as he was lying on his back.” which reminded me of how Adam had scared me when he’d used the Alpha thing to calm me down. But I wasn’t up to talking about that yet. “I wasn’t mad at you until you grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the room to yell at me.”
    â€œDamn it,” he said. “Sorry.” He looked at me and then looked away. Robbed of his defensive anger, he looked tired and worried.
    â€œWarren and Ben are not your fault,” I told him. “They both volunteered.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t allowed it. I knew it was dangerous,” he snarled, the anger back as quickly as it had gone.
    â€œDo you think that you are the only one