Mercy Thompson 06 - River Marked

knee.
    “Sorry,” he growled. His hands rested on the ground in front of him, fisted tight.
    “No trouble,” I told him, glancing at my arm. The small wounds were sealed, healing quickly from his saliva. I’d learned more about vampires over the past year or so than I’d known the rest of my life. Ignorance had been bliss.
    I knew, for instance, that because of my bonds with Adam, there would be no repercussions from letting Stefan feed from me again. A human without that protection who was food for the same vampire more than once could become a pet—as all the people in the menagerie were: dependent upon the vampire and ready to follow any orders he might give them.
    My cell rang, and, with both of my hands available to me, I took the time to check the number: Darryl. Okay, there might be repercussions to letting Stefan feed from me, but they would have more to do with Darryl tattling on me to Adam than they did with Stefan. I hit a button on the side of my phone, so it quit ringing.
    “I’ve gotten you into trouble,” said Stefan.
    “With Darryl?” I asked. “I can get myself into trouble with Darryl on my own just fine—and hand his butt to him if he steps too far out of line.”
    Stefan came to his feet, tilted his head, and gave me a little smile—suddenly looking much more like himself. “You? Miss Coyote versus the big bad wolf? I don’t think so.”
    He was probably right.
    “Darryl isn’t my keeper,” I told him stoutly.
    He snorted. “No. But if something happens to you while Adam is away, it is Darryl who will bear the blame.”
    “Adam isn’t that stupid,” I said.
    He waited.
    “Jeez Louise,” I told him, and called Darryl back.
    “I’m fine,” I said to him. “I thought Stefan might need a night out and stopped by to pick him up. I’ll call you from Kyle’s driveway, then you can call Adam and tell him I made it safely. You can also tell him that as long as I don’t have crazy fairy queens, swamp monsters, or rapists with delusions of grandeur after me, I can take care of myself.”
    Darryl sucked in his breath. I supposed it was the rapist remark, but I was done flinching about it. The man was dead, and I’d killed him. The nightmares had mostly stopped, and when they emerged, I had Adam to fight them with me. Adam is a very good man to have beside you in a fight, even if all you are fighting is a bad memory.
    “You forgot demon-possessed vampires,” said Stefan into the silence. Vampires, like werewolves, can hear private phone conversations—so can I, actually. I’ve become quite fond of text messaging since I moved into Pack HQ.
    “So she did,” said Darryl. His voice had softened to molasses and gravel. “We try to give you the air you need to breathe, Mercy. But it is hard. You are so fragile and—”
    “Rash?” I offered. “Stupid?” I have a newly minted brown belt in karate, and I fix cars for a living. Only in comparison to a werewolf am I fragile.
    “Not at all,” he disagreed, though I’ve heard him call me both rash and stupid as well as a number of other unflattering things. “Your ability to survive anything that gets thrown at you sometimes leaves the rest of us swallowing ulcer medication for days afterward. I don’t like the taste of Maalox.”
    “I’m safe. I’m fine.” Except for a few bruises from my encounter with the piano—and, as I took a step, a little dizziness from blood loss. Darryl wouldn’t catch my little fib, though. While he can smell a lie as well as most any werewolf, he wasn’t the Marrock, who could pick up my lies before they left my mouth, even over the phone. Besides, I was mostly safe—I eyed Ford a little warily, but he still hadn’t moved from where Stefan had thrown him.
    “Thank you,” Darryl said. “Call me when you are at Kyle’s.”
    I hung up. “I think I liked it better when the pack would have been happy to see me dead,” I told Stefan. “Are you ready to go?”
    Stefan reached a hand down and pulled Ford to his feet—and then shoved him up against a wall. “You leave Mercy alone,” he said.
    “Yes, Master,” said Ford, who hadn’t struggled at all when Stefan pushed him around.
    All hint of violence dropped from Stefan’s body, and he leaned his forehead into the bigger man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I will fix this.”
    Ford reached up and patted Stefan on the shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course you will.”
    I admit I was surprised that Ford could say more than