Bone Crossed by Patricia Briggs, now you can read online.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are dozens of people who have helped in this endeavor, but I am especially grateful to those who, on a moment's notice, went through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb--Mike Briggs, Dave and Katharine Carson, Laurie Martin, Jean Matteaucci, Anne Peters, Kaye Roberson, and Anne Sowards.
I also would like to take a moment to thank the people who've worked so hard to determine that, yes, you can indeed cast a silver bullet--Mike Briggs, Dr.Kevin Jaansalu, Dr.Kyle Roberson, and Tom Lenz.
1
I STARED AT MY REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR.
I WASN'T pretty, but my hair was thick and brushed my shoulders.
My skin was darker on my arms and face than it was on the rest of my body, but at least, thanks to my Blackfoot father, I'd never be pasty pale.
There were two stitches Samuel had put in the cut on my chin, and the bruise on my shoulder (not extensive damage considering I'd been fighting something that liked to eat children and had knocked out a werewolf).
The dark thread looked from some angles like the legs of a shiny black spider.
Aside from that slight damage, there was nothing wrong with my body.
Karate and mechanicking kept me in good shape.
My soul was a lot more battered than my body, but I couldn't see it in the mirror.
Hopefully no one else could either.
It was that invisible damage that left me afraid to leave the bathroom and face Adam, who waited in my bedroom.
Though I knew with absolute certainty that Adam wouldn't do anything I didn't want him to do--and had wanted him to do for a long time.
I could ask him to leave.
To give me more time.
I stared at the woman in the mirror, but all she did was stare back.
I'd killed the man who'd raped me.
Was I going to let him have this last victory? Let him destroy me as he'd intended? "Mercy?" Adam didn't have to raise his voice.
He knew I could hear him.
"Careful," I told him as I left off mirror-gazing and began pulling on clean underwear and an old T-shirt.
"I have an ancient walking stick, and I know how to use it." "The walking stick is lying across your bed," he said.
When I came out of the bathroom, Adam was lying across my bed, too.
He wasn't tall, but he didn't need height to add to the impression he made.
Wide cheekbones and a full, soft mouth topping a stubborn jaw combined to give him movie-star beauty.
When his eyes were open, they were a dark chocolate only a shade lighter than mine.
His body was almost as pretty as his face--though I knew he didn't think of himself that way.
He kept himself in shape because he was Alpha and his body was a tool he used to keep his pack safe.
He'd been a soldier before he was Changed, and the military training was still there in the way he moved and the way he took charge.