Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

that will kill you.
    With Samuel perched silently on the backseat, I rolled over onto my back and exposed my belly to his jaws. I stretched my chin so that my neck was vulnerable to him as well. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Itwasn’t as if he couldn’t kill me as easily if I were lying on my belly, but there was something worse about exposing my unprotected underside. Being submissive is a bitch.
    The van dipped again as he jumped down, landing almost on top of me. I could smell his anger—the sour smell of his fear had faded all away with his humanity, leaving only the wolf. Hot breath moved my fur as he sniffed his way upward, his nose parting my hair as he went. Slowly the anger faded along with the intensity that had allowed me to know what he was feeling.
    I tilted my head and risked a glance. Samuel filled the space between the short bench seat and the sliding door. Caught beneath him, one front paw on either side of my shoulders, I felt a sudden claustrophobia and instinctively tried to roll over.
    I stopped the movement as soon as it began, but Samuel lunged forward with a warning growl and a snap of teeth in my face. I tried to take comfort from the growl, since theoretically, if he was growling he wasn’t likely to kill me—but I was too aware of the volatile nature of the werewolves.
    He moved suddenly, closing his mouth over my throat—but too wide for a jugular strike. I could feel his teeth through the fur on my neck, but they stopped as soon as they touched my skin.
    I prayed then that Bran was right, and Samuel’s wolf looked upon me as his mate. If he was wrong, then both Samuel and I would pay the price.
    I held very still as my heart tried desperately to pound its way out of my rib cage. He released me, nipped gently at my nose, then slipped soundlessly away.
    I rolled to my feet and shook my fur to resettle it, shedding my bra at last. Samuel was stretched along the backseat, watching me with his beautiful white eyes. He blinked at me once, then resettled his muzzle on his front paws and closed his eyes, saying, as clearly as he could without words, that the two halves of his soul were together again.
    I heard the quiet purr of a big engine coming down the park road. I shifted to human as quickly as I could and began scrambling for clothes. My underwear was pale green and I found them first. The sports bra went on easier than it had come off, and I found my T-shirt when my foot touched it.
    The car slowed as it approached, its headlights glinting through the window of my van.
    â€œPants, pants, pants,” I chanted as I brushed my hands over the floor. My fingers found them as tires crunched gravel and the car parked behind us. They also found Zee’s dagger. I shoved it under the rubber mat near the side of the van farthest from the sliding door.
    Feverishly, I jerked my pants up, zipped, and buttoned them as the driver’s side door of the other car opened. Shoes. Luckily they were white and I snatched them up and pulled them on over my bare feet without untying them.
    I gave the hulking brute stretched across the full length of the van’s backseat a frantic look. Samuel wouldn’t be able to change back for a while yet, probably a few hours. A forced change takes time to recover from, even for a wolf of Samuel’s power, and it was too late to try to hide him.
    â€œYou’re a good dog, Samuel,” I told him sternly. “Don’t scare the nice police officer. We don’t have time to be escorted down to the station house.”
    A flashlight found me, and I waved, then slowly opened the sliding door.
    â€œJogging, Officer,” I said. The flashlight kept me from picking out a face.
    There was a long pause. “It’s one in the morning, ma’am.”
    â€œI couldn’t sleep.” I gave him an apologetic smile.
    â€œJogging alone at night isn’t safe, ma’am.” He lowered the flashlight, and I blinked rapidly, hoping the residual afterimages would fade soon.
    â€œThat’s why I always take him,” I said, and jerked a thumb toward the back of the van.
    The policeman swore. “Sorry, ma’am. That’s just thebiggest damn dog I’ve ever seen—and I grew up with Saint Bernards.”
    â€œDon’t ask me what he is,” I said, sliding through the door so I stood beside the policeman rather than below him. “I got him from the pound when he was