Stupid.
Stupid.
Damn Tim and all that he'd done for leaving me stupidly shaking while I stood perfectly safely in the middle of my own stupid driveway.
I wanted to be myself again instead of this stranger who was afraid of being touched--and who had little voices in her head that made her throw bowling balls at children.
"Mercy," Adam said.
He'd gotten out of the truck and come around the back of it.
His voice was gentle, and the sound of it .
.
.
Abruptly I could feel his sorrow and bewilderment-- something had happened, and he didn't know what it was.
He just knew he'd screwed up somehow.
He had no idea how it had gone so badly wrong.
I didn't want to know what he was feeling because it only made me stupider--and more vulnerable.
"I have to go in," I told the stick in my hand because I couldn't look up at Adam's face just then.
If I'd looked at him, I think I would have run, and he'd have chased me.
Some other day, that might have been fun.
Tonight, it would be disastrous.
So I moved slowly.
He didn't follow me as I walked to my door but said from where he stood, "I'll send someone over to stand guard." Because I was the Alpha's mate.
Because he worried about me.
Because of Tim.
Because of guilt.
"No," he said, taking a step closer to me, telling me the bond was stronger on his side at that moment.
"Because I love you." I shut the door gently between us and leaned my forehead against it.
My stomach hurt; my throat was tight.
I wanted to scream or punch someone, but instead I clenched the walking stick until my fingers hurt and listened to Adam get in his truck and back out of my driveway.
I looked down at the walking stick.
Once--maybe still--it made all the sheep its bearer owned have twins.
But it had been fashioned a long time ago, and old magic sometimes grew and developed in strange ways.
It had become more than just a walking stick with agricultural applications.