Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION
Iâd used to hunt vampires. Maybe even another magically virtuous stake.
Iâd never seriously considered killing Marsilia as a way to save myself. First, Iâd been to the seethe. Second, she had too many minions who would kill me back.
So why did I think I could kill Blackwood?
I knew, I knew, that the James Blackwood Iâd met was not the real face of the vampire. But I had met him, and he wasnât too scary. He didnât have minions. And he was using Amber without her knowledge or permission, turning her into his slave: a woman who left her child alone in a house with a ghost and an almost stranger. I couldnât help Amber with her ghost ... maybe Iâd even made it worse. But I could help her with the vampire.
âAll right,â I said. âIâd rather have toââI nearly choked on the next wordââobey you than listen to him.â
He watched me for a heartbeat. âAll right,â he agreed.
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HE PULLED OVER AT A REST AREA. THERE WAS A ROW OF semis parked for the night, but the lot for cars was empty. He unbuckled and walked between the front seats to the back. I followed him slowly.
He sat on the bench seat in the back and patted the seat beside him. When I hesitated, he said, âYou donât have to do this. Iâm not going to force you.â
If I didnât have Stefan to interfere, Blackwood probably could make me do whatever he wanted. Iâd have no way to help Amber.
Of course, if Marsilia killed me first, I wouldnât have to worry about any of it.
âAm I putting Adam and his pack in more danger?â I asked.
Stefan did me the courtesy of considering it, though I could smell his eagerness: he smelled like a wolf hot on the trail of something tasty. If I ran, I wondered, would he be compelled to chase me the way a werewolf would have?
I stared at him and reminded myself that Iâd known him a long time. Heâd never made any move he thought would harm me. This was Stefan, not some nameless hunter.
âI donât see how,â he told me. âAdam wonât like it, Iâm sure. Witness his reaction when I called you by accident. But heâs a practical man. He knows all about desperate choices.â
I sat down beside him, all too conscious of the cool temperature of his body, cooler, I thought than usual. I was glad to know that this would help him, too. I was really, really tired of causing all my friends nothing but grief.
He brushed my hair away from my neck, and I caught his hand.
âWhat about the wrist?â The last time heâd bitten my wrist.
He shook his head. âItâs more painful. Too many nerves near the surface.â He looked at me. âDo you trust me?â
âI wouldnât be doing this if I didnât.â
âOkay. Iâm going to restrain you a little because if you jerk while Iâm still at your neck, you might make me cut through the wrong thing and you could bleed to death.â He didnât pressure me, just sat on the plush bench seat as if he could stay there the rest of my life.
âHow?â I said.
âIâll have you fold your arms over your stomach, and Iâll hold them there.â
I did a panic check, but Tim had never restrained me that way. I tried not to think about how heâd held me down and was only moderately successful.
âGo up to the front of the van,â Stefan said. âThe keys are in the ignition. Youâll have to drive yourself home because I canât stay here. I have to hunt now. Iâllââ
I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned against him. âOkay, do it.â
His arm came slowly around my shoulders and over my right arm. When I stayed put, he put his hand over my arms in such a way that I couldnât free myself.
âAll right?â He asked calmly, as if need hadnât turned his eyes jewel-bright, like Christmas lights in the dark van.
âAll right,â I said.
His teeth must have been razor-sharp because I didnât feel them slice through skin, only the cool dampness of his mouth. Only when he began to draw blood did it start to hurt.
Who feeds at my table?
The roar in my head made me panic as Stefanâs bite had not. But I held very still, like a mouse when it first notices the cat. If you donât move, it might not attack.
The steady draw of Stefanâs mouth faltered for an instant. Then he resumed
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