River Marked Part 6

I sighed again, a sound that I drew up from my toes, a contented, happy sound. I'd get him back for that "baby." Just see if I didn't.

"Oh, yes," I told our audience. "I'll tell Jesse that she was right. Go for the s.e.xy beast, she told me. If you're going to sh.e.l.l out the money, don't settle."

He threw back his head and laughed until he had to wipe tears of hilarity off his face. "Jeez, Mercy," he said. "The things you say." Then he leaned across the table and kissed me.

A while later he pulled back, grinned at me, and sat back in his chair.

I had to catch my breath before I spoke. "Best five bucks I ever spent," I told him fervently.

HE WAS STILL LAUGHING WHEN HE BUCKLED HIS SEAT belt. "It's a good thing that we don't live in Hood River," he said. "I'd never be able to show my face in that restaurant again. Five bucks. Jeez." Adam was a gentleman raised in the fifties. He tried really hard not to swear in front of women.

"I thought it was pretty cool when that little old lady tried to give you a twenty," I said, and set him off again.

"The thing that spooked me"-he drove back out on the highway toward our campground-"was that woman at the table next to us, who looked like she bought the whole act, even after everyone else was laughing."

Ah, Creepy Lady. She'd watched us both with her eyes wide and her jaw open, and still her expression managed to be blank. I was betting she was either a total psychopath-or fae, which was sometimes the same thing. I could have gone closer for a good sniff-I've learned what fae smell like-but it was my honeymoon. I didn't want to know.

"I'm never going to be bored with you around," Adam told me. The funny thing was that he sounded happy about it.

"WANT TO GO FOR A RUN?" ADAM ASKED, HOPPING OUT of bed a few hours later.

We'd lain down to rest after our travels. Not much resting had taken place, but I wasn't going to complain. Still, every bone in my body was Jell-O, and he wanted to go run?

"Ungh," I said. That was the best I could do.

He grinned at me. "You can drop the act."

I waved a weak hand at him.

"I bet I catch a rabbit before you do," he said.

Oh. He meant a run run. We'd gotten back to the campground about dusk, so it was full dark. Full dark meant that in the unlikely event that someone saw Adam as werewolf, they'd think he was a dog-helped along by pack magic that let people see what they expected to see. The magic works in broad daylight, too, but darkness helps.

"Well, why didn't you say so," I grumped at him as I vaulted off the bed. I was wearing half a T-shirt-the left half-and my socks. The other half of my shirt was on the far side of the trailer. I was going to take an hour and clean the trailer really well before we returned it to its owner or I'd risk being embarra.s.sed.

Which reminded me. "Hey, Adam?" I dropped the half shirt on the floor and stood on one foot to take off a sock. "Who loaned us the trailer? The only people I know who could have afforded it are you, Kyle, or Samuel. Samuel would not be caught dead with something this ... bulky. You told me it isn't yours. Did Kyle buy it in an attempt to compromise with Warren's desire to go camping?"

"Uncle Mike."

I froze, one foot in the air. "What?" He'd borrowed something from a fae?

Adam steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not wet behind the ears," he told me, a little bite in his voice. "Uncle Mike called me and told me he'd heard I was planning on taking you camping and didn't he have the sweetest little trailer we could take with us."

"You borrowed from Uncle Mike?"

"Uncle Mike offered it ... Now, how did he phrase that? For services already rendered. You need to either get the sock off, Mercy, or put that foot down before you fall over."

I pulled the sock off and stood on my own two feet. "Fae never give you anything for nothing," I said urgently. "Not even Zee, and he's my friend."

The fae do things like make you pledge your firstborn child or your life's blood for a piece of bubble gum, and make it sound like a good deal at the time.

"When the fae who owns this campground called to offer it up about an hour before Uncle Mike called, I was pretty suspicious," Adam told me.

His voice had regained its usual relaxed tone, but he was irritated. I could tell by the way he stripped off his shirt. I could leave it alone ... but he didn't know the fae the way I'd come to know them.

"After Uncle Mike called," he continued blandly, "I knew they wanted us here for some reason. I could have refused-I had reservations in San Diego-but I thought you'd enjoy this more than a hotel, and I knew I would."

I frowned at him.

"I didn't promise him anything," Adam said with exaggerated patience. "You need to remember who you are now. They can't just f-" He stopped speaking for a moment, then swallowed his temper with an effort-and not as much effect as he probably wanted because the bland tone deserted him entirely.

"Mercy, they can't mess with you without messing with me and the whole pack-and Samuel-and Bran-and Zee-and Stefan probably, for that matter. I don't know what they want. Maybe they needed us to not not go to San Diego-Uncle Mike mentioned San Diego specifically though I hadn't told anyone where I was taking you. Maybe they needed us to stick closer to home. We werewolves are a potential ally against political attacks now since we are the only other supernatural group who admits its existence to the general public. Maybe there is something here-" He waved his hands to indicate the general area upon which the trailer sat. "It could be something as easy as using us as a deterrent to another fae who plans on destroying what Edythe has built here." go to San Diego-Uncle Mike mentioned San Diego specifically though I hadn't told anyone where I was taking you. Maybe they needed us to stick closer to home. We werewolves are a potential ally against political attacks now since we are the only other supernatural group who admits its existence to the general public. Maybe there is something here-" He waved his hands to indicate the general area upon which the trailer sat. "It could be something as easy as using us as a deterrent to another fae who plans on destroying what Edythe has built here."

Edythe must be the fae who owned the place. Of course it was a fae who had set up this campground, with its big trees and supergreen gra.s.s.

Adam was right. I'd forgotten that if the fae screwed with me, they were taking on the whole pack and then some. I was more than just a mechanic who fixed VWs and turned into a coyote because I had Adam, and I had friends. What a difference a year or two could make.

If he'd stopped there, I wouldn't have gotten mad. Maybe I'd even have conceded that he'd been right, and I shouldn't have worried. But he didn't leave it alone-because Adam might be gorgeous and smart, but he wasn't perfect.

"I suppose I could have driven myself crazy-" he bit out because our peculiar bond apparently wasn't doing its thing. He didn't know that I agreed with him. That he'd won. "Or more to the point," he said, "I could have let you drive both of us crazy for the past few days speculating what nefarious plot Uncle Mike has hatched up-Uncle Mike, who has proved himself to be, at least, a valuable ally if you don't consider him to be a friend. Or I could keep it to myself until your curiosity got the best of you and you asked so we could at least enjoy a couple days of our honeymoon before we started worrying about what the fu-" He was breathing harder now and had almost let that four-letter word all the way out.

I leaned forward, kissed the white line on his cheek that came out like war paint whenever he clenched his jaw, and said lightly, "All you ever had to do was tell me you had it under control, dear." I batted my eyes demurely. "I'm just the wife. I don't have to strain my poor weak brain worrying about the fae because you are here to protect me."

Yep, I was ticked, too. He was patronizing me.

I could still, however, admit when he was right: the fae certainly weren't the ones he had to worry about.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "That is not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth."

I reached around him, popped the door of the trailer open, and changed into a coyote before he finished his sentence-and I was off and running.

It would take a while before he could follow because werewolves take a lot longer to change. I supposed he could have chased after me in human form-but on two feet he'd never catch me, werewolf or not. Besides that, he was naked. The campground was rendered mostly private by topography and greenery, but it wasn't completely private. Pack magic wouldn't do anything to hide a naked man running across the campground.

I took advantage of him and left before he could continue the argument.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE DOING, MARRYING an Alpha werewolf?" my mother had said a few months ago, as I drove us to yet another wedding-dress outlet in Portland. Who knew there were so many white dresses? Who knew there were so many horrible white dresses? The oddest thing was that it seemed like the worse the dress, the more expensive it was.

"Yes, Mom," I said, narrowly avoiding a brownish '77 LTD being driven by a grandmother who could barely see over the dash. "I've known Adam for a long time. I know just what I'm getting myself into."

As if I hadn't said anything, my mother said, "Any kind of alpha takes some serious managing. Werewolves are controlling b.a.s.t.a.r.ds-and Alpha werewolves are worse than that. If you don't watch it, you find that you are doing exactly what they tell you to."

There was an interesting snap in her voice, and I wondered how often Bran had gotten her to do what he wanted her to. Not as often as he wanted, I'd bet, but evidently more than she was happy about.

"I know how to take care of myself." I wasn't worried. Adam was dominant-that was certainly true. But I'd more than proved to myself that I could hold my own against him if I needed to.

"I know you do," Mom said with satisfaction. "But remember, confrontations aren't productive with an Alpha. You'll just lose-or worse, make him lose control."

"He won't hurt me, Mom."

"Of course not," she said. "But a man like Adam, if he loses control, he'll feel terrible. He'll worry that he might might have hurt you. Making him feel horrible isn't what you want." She paused, considered what she said, then modified it. "Unless it is useful for him to feel horrible, of course. Mostly, though, I've found that isn't productive. Men who are miserable can be unpredictable." have hurt you. Making him feel horrible isn't what you want." She paused, considered what she said, then modified it. "Unless it is useful for him to feel horrible, of course. Mostly, though, I've found that isn't productive. Men who are miserable can be unpredictable."

I wondered if my stepfather knew how lucky he was that she felt it was in her best interests that he was happy instead of miserable. Probably he did; he was a smart man.

"I am the queen of hit-and-run," I told her. "All the satisfaction, none of the danger."

"Good," she said. "Just make sure he doesn't turn you into the good little wife. You'd manage it for a while-you were the 'good little daughter' in my house from the time you moved in until you went to college."

There was a little edge to her voice, as if I'd hurt her-which hadn't been my intention at all. When I'd left Bran's pack to live with my mother and stepfather, I'd been sixteen, and they'd already had a family without me. No. They'd had the perfect family without me. I hadn't wanted to disturb them any more than I could help.

"But if you try that in a marriage," she continued, "the marriage will self-destruct eventually, and there will be casualties everywhere you look."

"Adam doesn't want a good little wife," I told her.

"Of course not," she said. But she didn't know Adam that well, and I figured she was just humoring me, until she kept going. "But he was taught how to be a husband when it was a.s.sumed that his wife would be a combination cook/housekeeper/mother who would need him to provide and protect her. He knows in his head and his heart that you are an equal, but his instincts were instilled a long time ago. You are going to have to help him with that and be patient with him."

My mother would not be nearly as terrifying if she weren't right so often.

SO INSTEAD OF STICKING AROUND TO FIGHT WITH Adam, I ran to let us both cool off, and to let the hurt of his patronizing remarks ease so I could think. I can't be patient when I'm mad-unless I'm waiting to get back at someone, and I wasn't that mad. Not yet.

I ran the first mile or so as fast as I could, then dropped down to a dog-trot.

I couldn't let him treat me like his first wife. I couldn't live surrounded by cotton wool.

But he knew that.

I trusted him. What he'd kept from me hadn't been life threatening. He was right. The fae would not offend the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack. One werewolf was a tough creature-but the real power of the werewolves lay in their packs. I could understand him wanting to make sure our honeymoon was worry-free.

Okay. Okay.

So at what point had our discussion turned into an argument that left us both angry? And left me with an ache in my chest that felt as if he'd punched me instead of snapped at me. He hadn't even worked up to a good rage, and I felt miserable.

A rabbit bolted right out in front of me. I hadn't really intended on hunting, but if the stupid things want to present themselves for dinner ... With a fresh turn of speed, I gave chase.

I WAS EATING THE LAST OF THE RABBIT WHEN ADAM showed up in his glorious furred form. Adam is a beautiful man, and his wolf is beautiful, too. He is colored like a Siamese cat, though in bluish grays that deepen to near black.

He dropped a second rabbit at my feet and lay down in front of me, nose on his paws and his ears flattened.

Nothing says you're sorry like a dead bunny.

I remembered his first wife. Christy had made him apologize a lot, apologize for things that were not his fault. I didn't want an apology. I wanted to know why we'd just had a fight, and I hadn't even enjoyed it.

I liked liked to fight with Adam. to fight with Adam.

He'd been mad first.

I considered that.

Adam got mad for three reasons. The most common, and my personal favorite, was frustration. Usually, when Adam was mad at me, frustration was the spark that set him off. Adam frustrated and angry with me usually started with fireworks and ended in good ways with a lot of adrenaline engendered and spent along the way.

The second was if anyone was trying to harm someone under his protection. We'd established that the fae were probably not planning our deaths or even near-fatal entrapments.

The third was pain-physical or otherwise.

Having established that he wasn't frustrated and neither I nor anyone else was in any danger-I must have hurt him somehow.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Usually, Adam was pretty straightforward. It was one of my favorite things about him. Figuring out why he'd been mad should have been a lot easier.

He'd tried to protect me, and I objected. We did that all the time, and he seldom got mad unless or until I got hurt.

He'd tried to make sure our wedding and honeymoon were fun. He'd thought that I'd fret about borrowing the van from Uncle Mike but that I'd also have a better time out here than I would have in a more typical honeymoon.

He'd gotten mad when he thought I was going to get mad at him for not telling me about the trailer. It was his belief that I would get mad about it that had hurt him. I wiggled my hips into a more comfortable position and tried to think like Adam-a very smart person poisoned by testosterone.

First-he knew I'd get mad if he kept anything big from me, but that wouldn't hurt his feelings.

And suddenly I understood what had happened.

I got up and stepped over my kill, then over his. I licked his muzzle-and then shifted back into human.

"You made some a.s.sumptions," I told him. "Take a note: it usually works better if you wait until I do something stupid before getting mad at me."

Adam stared at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"This building a marriage is an ongoing project," I told him. "And we'll both make a lot of mistakes along the way. I did worry about borrowing the trailer. But after a half minute's thought, I knew you'd never borrow anything from any fae without making sure you had a handle on the consequences." I blew out a huff of air. "You got mad because you thought I wouldn't trust you to know the difference. Not fair. Not fair at all.

"Me, I keep important stuff from you all the time." I grinned at him. "But I know you're a better person than I am. Still, I think that my frailty means you don't owe me an apology for doing something I would do, so we're even as far as keeping information from me is concerned."

Now it was he who narrowed his eyes at me.

"Right," I said as if he'd spoken. It was chilly in bare skin with the sun down, so I stretched out against him and let him keep me warm. "I know what I said before I took off-but I was provoked. No apologies from me or from you-but I'll take the rabbit on account. However, if you try that patronizing sh-stuff on me again, not even a fat juicy rabbit is going to stop the fight we'll have."

Since it was unfair for me to keep being the only one who could talk, I shifted back into the coyote. And since I have a policy of accepting gifts graciously, I ate his rabbit. Besides, fighting always made me hungry, and there was no chocolate handy.

He thought it was funny that I ate the second rabbit without accepting his apology-so we were okay again. I expected that we'd have a lot more fights, and mostly I looked forward to them. Life with Adam wasn't going to be boring, either.

WE WERE HEADED BACK TO THE CAMPSITE WHEN WE found the boat. On the way out, I hadn't run right along the river. Instead, I'd followed one of the ridges that lined the gorge, avoiding the few houses and vineyards scattered here and there, and Adam had followed my trail. On the way back, though, we ran along the edge of the river. The moon was new, just a sliver in the sky, and the stars reflected in the black water.

The highway on the Oregon side was always busy, and this night was no exception. Our side, the Washington side, was a lot quieter: the river was wide, the noise of the cars a distant symphony accompanying the sounds of the night. One of those sounds was made by a boat bobbing against the sh.o.r.e.

I paused because this wasn't a place I'd have expected to find a boat. As soon as my attention was drawn to it, I could smell blood and terror-the aftermaths of battle. A glance at Adam told me he'd noticed it, too. The fur along his spine was raised though he was silent.

The boat was tucked under the edge of three or four trees and accompanying brush that grew along the bank. From what I could see, and I wiggled a lot closer than Adam could, it was one of the small fishing boats, a ba.s.s boat, the kind that maybe two or three people could use to fish in. Small enough to row though there was a small outboard motor on the back of this one. I couldn't see into the boat because of the underbrush, but I could smell a man's fear and hear him talking.

"Don't let it find me. Don't let it find me." Over and over again, very softly, barely even a whisper. I hadn't been able to pick up his exact words until I was within a stone's throw of the boat, and I have very good hearing. The boat hitting the rocks with the gentle rise and fall of the river's waves was louder than his voice.

I backed out of the brush and met Adam's eyes. Naked was going to be hard to explain, and I knew all about what those bushes were going to do with my skin. But Adam took too long to change, would be equally naked-and if whatever this man was afraid of came back, Adam the werewolf was our best defense.

Maybe other people wouldn't have automatically a.s.sumed that whatever this man was afraid of would need a werewolf to fight it. There were no werewolves around here, vampires tended to be more of an urban monster, and the fae reservation was an hour the other side of the Tri-Cities-two hundred miles or more away from us. But the sheer magnitude of the terror he still felt made me think I wasn't being paranoid.