"Why didn't you jump into the fight with Lee?" I asked, changing the subject.
He'd wanted to--that's why the glasses had come on, so that everyone wouldn't see that his eyes had lightened to the wolf's gold.
He didn't answer right away.
The man-made bank up to the railroad track, which was the shortest route to my shop, was steep, and the small gravel made it a bit treacherous.
I was sore, so I ran up it.
My quads, tired from three hundred kicks, protested the additional effort I was asking of them, but running meant the climb was over faster.
Adam ran easily up the slope behind me, even in slick dress shoes.
Something about the way he was following me made me feel nervous, like I was a deer being stalked.
So I stopped at the top and stretched out my tired legs.
I'd be damned if I would run from Adam.
"You had him," Adam said, watching me.
"He's better than you in form, but he has never fought for his life.
I wouldn't want you tied up and alone with him for very long, but he never had a chance in the dojo." Then his voice deepened with a slightly rougher tone.
"If you hadn't been stupid, you wouldn't have even gotten hit.
Don't do that again." "Nossir," I told him.
I'd been trying not to think about Adam all day--since the crossed bones on my door made it clear that Marsilia wasn't finished with me.
I knew, even though Zee would check out other things, I knew that it had been the vampires marking my business.
And, like Tony had said, it felt like a death threat.
I was a dead woman, it was only a matter of time.
All I could do was figure out a way to keep other people from dying with me.
Adam would die for his mate.
He wouldn't let me just leave, either.
Christy, his first wife, hadn't been his mate or they'd still be married.
I had to figure out some way to undo what I had done last night.
But it was hard to believe in death with him here beside me, the rich autumn sunlight glinting in his dark hair and lightening his eyes, making him squint and highlighting faint laugh lines.
He took my hand in a casual move I had no way of evading without making a big deal of it.
Especially when I didn't want to evade him.
He tilted his head as if trying to figure me out--had he caught what I was thinking? His hand was broad-palmed and warm.
The calluses on it made it no softer than my own work-roughened skin.
I turned away from him, but kept his hand as I started down the track to my shop.