I already had Adam and his pack playing with my head; I didn't particularly want anyone else in there.
"Pack existed before ceremonies," Sam said, sounding amused.
"Magic binds more obviously, more extensively, but not more deeply." "Did you mess with my head on my date with Adam?" I couldn't keep the accusation out of my voice.
"No." He tilted his head, then snarled, "Someone hurt you?" "No," I said.
"It's nothing." "Lies," he said.
"Right," I agreed.
"But if it wasn't you who did it, the incident is something for Adam and me to handle." He was still a moment.
"For now," he said.
I held the door open for him, then walked beside him through the emergency room.
As we moved through the walkway and out the door, Sam kept his eyes on me, and his regard had a weight to it.
I didn't protest.
He did it so that no one would see the change in his iris color--but also because when a werewolf as dominant as Samuel meets someone's gaze with his wolf in the fore, even humans bow their knees.
That would be pretty awkward and hard to explain.
At this point, we were operating with the hope that it would matter to Samuel that he could come back and practice medicine here again.
I helped him into the backseat of the Rabbit--and noticed that the towel-wrapped book was still there.
I wished that getting it back to its owner was the extent of my troubles.
I grabbed it and put it in the far back, out of harm's reach.
Hopping in the front, I drove out from under the parking-lot lights as soon as I could.
It was still the wee small hours, but Samuel was a big man, and it would be hard to miss him stripping in the back of my little car.
It didn't take him long to dispose of the clothes and begin his change.
I didn't look, but I could tell when he started because the noises turned from shredding fabric to pained whines.
What the wolves go through when they change is one of the many reasons I am very grateful to be what I am instead of a werewolf.
For me, the change from coyote to human or back is virtually instantaneous.
The side effects are nothing more annoying than tingles.
For a werewolf, change is painful and slow.
From the grunts he was making, he hadn't yet fully finished his shift by the time I drove into my driveway.
Home wasn't the safest place to bring him.
No werewolf who saw him would miss what had happened, and Adam's house--visited often by members of his pack--was just behind my back fence.
But I couldn't think of anyplace better.
Eventually, we'd have to tell Bran--I knew it, and I suspected that Samuel .