Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

this.”
    Ben brought Adam’s laptop and handed it to him. Adam set it up on the counter.
    I buried my head against Warren and tried to ignore the sounds coming from Adam’s laptop. The speakers weren’t very good so I pretended I couldn’t hear the helpless noises I made or the wet sounds…
    He let it play until the moment Nemane walked in and turned it off.
    â€œShe should be dead,” Nemane said flatly when he was finished. “If I’d seen it first, I’d never have given her another drink so soon.”
    â€œWill she be all right?” Warren asked sharply.
    â€œIf she hasn’t gone into convulsions and died yet, I don’t suppose she’s going to.” Nemane stroked the cloak she held on her arm, sounding troubled. “I don’t know how she managed to kill him while he was wearing this. It should have kept her from touching him.”
    â€œIt only protected him from his enemies,” I told Warren’s shirt. “I wasn’t his enemy because he told me not to be.”
    A storm of police sirens was brewing up outside.
    â€œAll right,” Nemane said. “You may have the bracelets to explain how a human killed O’Donnell. And the cup. Adam Hauptman, Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack, you will take possession of them on your honor and return them to Uncle Mike when they are of no further use.”
    â€œSamuel,” said Warren, and I realized I was starting to shiver helplessly.
    â€œShe needs to sleep,” Nemane told them.
    Adam knelt beside us and looked me in the eye. “Mercedes, go to sleep.”
    I was too tired to fight the compulsion, even if I had wanted to.

chapter 12
    I woke up with the smell of Adam in my nose and my stomach cramping. I didn’t have time to wonder about my surroundings. I dove off the bed and made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet.
    Fairy brew tastes a lot worse the second time around.
    Gentle hands pulled my hair out of the way—though it was too late for that—and wiped my face with a damp washcloth. Someone had put a pair of underwear and one of Adam’s T-shirts on me.
    â€œAt least you made it to the loo this time,” Ben said prosaically. And then, just so I could be absolutely sure it was really him and not some kinder, nicer clone, he said, without affection, “Good thing, too. We are almost out of sheets.”
    â€œHappy to oblige,” I managed before heaving up some more—so hard it came burning out my nose as well as my mouth. By the time I finished, I’d have been crying on the floor if the idea of doing that in front of Ben hadn’t been so repugnant.
    He waited until it became apparent that getting to the bathroom was as good as I was going to manage before he sighed and heaved me up with more effort than I knew he felt. He was a werewolf; he could probably pick up a piano. My weight wasn’t enough to make him sweat.
    He tucked me back in the sheets with surprising efficiency. “The fae told us you’d sleep a lot for a while. The vomiting surprised her, though. Probably something to do with your resistance to magic and how much of the stuff you had. Best thing for you is sleep.” He paused. “Unless you’re hungry.”
    I turned my head out from the pillow far enough that he could see my face.
    He smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m not excited about cleaning up another mess either.”
    Â 
    It was still dark out the next time I woke up so it wasn’t too much later. I lay unmoving as long as I could. I knew Ben was still in the room and I didn’t want to attract his attention. I didn’t want anyone to look at me.
    Without nausea to distract me, the events of the evening, those that I remembered clearly anyway, rolled through my head like an Ed Wood movie: so horrible that you can’t force yourself to stop watching. Worse, I could smell it on me. The fairy liquor, blood…and Tim. The worst was knowing what I had done…and what I hadn’t.
    In the end, I crawled out of bed and slunk on my hands and knees to the bathroom door. I kept my eyes lowered so Ben would know that I understood what I’d done.
    He got to the door before me and held it open. I hesitated. Protocol would have me roll over and give him my throat and underbelly…but I couldn’t stand to be that vulnerable again. Not right now. Maybe if it were Adam.
    â€œPoor little bitch,”