"No," said Ben. "I'm not sure she's still here--do you smell..."
His voice stopped because Adam dropped an arm (not one of his) and focused on Ben.
"Obviously," Darryl said in a strained voice, "we all smell her terror." He knelt on one knee, like a man proposing to his beloved.
Ben dropped to both knees and bowed his head. Honey did the same, and their attention was all for Adam. "Where is she?" His voice was guttural and oddly accented from speaking out of a mouth meant for howling rather than talking.
"We will look, sir." Darryl's voice was very quiet.
"She's here," said Ben in a rush. "She's hiding from us."
Adam's great mouth opened and he roared, more like a bear at that moment than a wolf. He dropped to all fours--and I expected him to complete the change, to become all wolf. But he didn't. I could feel him pull on the power of the pack and they gave it to him. Either it was easier to change from a transitional stage, or the pack sped his way, but it wasn't five minutes before Adam stood naked and human in the harsh fluorescent light.
He took a deep breath and stretched out his neck, the crack of his vertebrae loud in the silent garage. When he was finished, all that was left of the wolf was the scent of his anger and the amber of his eyes.
"She's still here?" he asked. "You can tell?"
"Her scent is all over," Ben answered. "I can't track her. But she'd have found a corner to hide in. She wouldn't have run." He said the last sentence absently as his eyes drifted over the shop.
"Why not?" asked Darryl, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Ben inhaled as if the question startled him. "Because you only run if you have hope. You saw what he did, heard what he told her. She's here."
They'd watched, I thought, remembering the technician telling me that Adam was recording from the cameras, too. They'd seen it: I was so ashamed I wanted to die. Then I remembered that I was going to and took comfort from the thought of the river, so cool and inviting.
"Mercy?" Adam turned in a slow circle. I tucked my nose into my tail and held very still, closing my eyes and trusting my ears to tell me if they got too close. "Everything is all right, now. You can come out."
He was wrong. Nothing was all right. He didn't love me, nobody loved me, and I would be all alone.
"You could call her," suggested Darryl.
There was a thud and a choking sound. Unable to resist, I looked.
Adam held Darryl against the wall, his forearm across his throat. "You saw," he whispered. "You saw what he did to her. And now you suggest I do the same? Bring her to me with magic that she cannot resist?"
I knew the drink from the fae goblet was still affecting me: my stomach was burning, my body shaking like a meth addict's. But something bothered me. I still should have been able to understand Adam's reactions, right? He'd been so concerned...angry for me. But if he'd seen...
He'd know I'd been unfaithful.
Adam had declared me his mate before his pack. And if I was just learning that there were other, paranormal results, I did understand the politics involved.
A werewolf whose mate is unfaithful is seen as weak. If it is the Alpha...well, I knew that there had been one Alpha whose mate had slept around, but she did it with his permission. By not accepting Adam, I had already weakened him. If his pack knew that Tim had...that I'd let Tim...
Adam dropped his arm, freeing Darryl. "Did you hear that?"
I'd quit whining as soon as I realized I was making noise. But it was too late.
"It came from over there," said Honey. She stepped over a few pieces of Tim on her way to my side of the garage, followed by Darryl and Ben. Adam stayed where he was, his back to me, his hands braced shoulder high against the wall.
So it was him that the fae attacked when she came through my office door.
Nemane looked very little like the woman who had come to my office with Tony. Her dark hair glowed with silver and red highlights and floated about her as if held away from her body by the power of her magic. She blasted Adam with a wave of magic that knocked him halfway across the garage to land flat on his back in a puddle of dark blood. He rolled to his feet as soon as he hit and went for her.
War, I thought. If he killed her or she him, it would be war.
I was off my shelf and sprinting as fast as my three legs could manage before the thought had completed itself. Though there was no uncertainty in his movement, she must have hurt him because I reached her before he did.
I shifted so I could talk, but I didn't get a chance because Adam hit me like a football player, his shoulder in my stomach. I don't think he meant to hit me, because he rolled under me, jerking me down with him. I never hit the ground.