Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

eyes.
    Where does a werewolf sleep? Anywhere he wants to.
    I thought it would bother me, thought it would scare me. It ought to have bothered me. But somehow I couldn’t work up the energy to be too worried about the big wolf curled up on my feet. It was Sam, after all.

    MY DAY STARTED OUT EARLY DESPITE MY LATE NIGHT.
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    I woke up to the sound of Sam’s stomach growling. Keeping him fed had attained a new priority level, so I bounced up and cooked him breakfast.
    And then, because cooking is something I do when I’m upset or nervous—and because it sometimes helps me think, especially if the cooking involves sugar—I indulged myself with a spate of cookie baking. I made a double batch of peanut butter cookies, and while they were in the oven, I made chocolate chip, for good measure.
    Sam sat under the table, where he was out of my way, and watched me. I fed him a couple of spoonfuls of dough even though he’d eaten several pounds of bacon and a dozen eggs. He had shared the eggs with my cat, Medea. Maybe that was why he was still hungry. I fed him some of the baked cookies.
    I was in the middle of putting cookies into baggies when Adam called.
    â€œMercy,” he said. His voice was fuzzy with fatigue, his tone flat. “I saw the light was on. Ben told me what you said. I can help you with that.”
    Usually, I follow Adam’s conversations just fine, but I’d had less than three hours of sleep. And I was preoccupied with Samuel, which he could not know anything about. I rubbed my nose. Ben. Oh. Adam was talking about how the pack had screwed up our date. Right.
    I had to keep Adam away. Just until I figured out some brilliant plan to keep Samuel alive . . . And here before me was the perfect excuse.
    â€œThank you,” I said. “But I think I need a break for a few days—no pack, no . . .” I let my voice drift off. I couldn’t tell him I needed space from him when it wasn’t true. Even over the phone he might pick up the lie. I wished he was here. He had a way of making things black-and-white. Of course, that meant that Samuel should be killed for the good of the wolves. Sometimes gray is the color I’m stuck with.
    â€œYou need some distance from the pack—and me,” Adam said. “I can understand that.” There was a small pause. “I won’t leave you without protection.”
    I looked down. “Samuel’s off for a couple of days.” I needed to call before heading to work and get him time off, but that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t going to be at work for the next couple of days. The wreck made a convenient excuse. “I’ll keep him with me.”
    â€œAll right.” There was an awkward pause, and Adam said, “I’m sorry, Mercy. I should have noticed there was something wrong.” He swallowed. “When my ex-wife decided I’d done something she didn’t like, she’d give me the silent treatment. When you did it . . . it threw me.”
    â€œI think that was the point someone was aiming for,” I said dryly, and he laughed.
    â€œYeah. I didn’t stop and consider how unlikely a tactic that was from you,” he agreed. “Sneak attacks, guerilla warfare, but not silence.”
    â€œNot your fault,” I told him, before I bit my lip. If I didn’t need to keep him away from Sam, I’d have said more. A lot more, but I needed time for Samuel to fix himself. “I didn’t figure it out until we were almost home.”
    â€œIf I’d realized something was up while it was still happening, I could have found out who it was,” said Adam, a growl in his voice. He took a deep breath and let it out. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “Samuel will know how to stop them, too. While he’s escorting you around, why don’t you ask him to teach you how to protect yourself? Even when it’s not deliberate—” He had to stop again. “The needs and desires of the pack can influence you quite a bit. It’s not too hard to block if you know how. Samuel can show you.”
    I looked at the white wolf sprawled out on the kitchen floor with Medea cleaning his face. Sam looked back at me with pale eyes ringed in black.
    â€œI’ll ask him,” I promised.
    â€œSee you,” he said, but continued in a rush. “Is Tuesday too soon?”
    It was Saturday. If Samuel wasn’t better by