Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson #4)(40)
Author: Patricia Briggs

"And you’ll gain yourself an enemy," I guessed. "James Blackwood holds Spokane, all by himself, against all the supernatural peoples, not just vampires. That means he’s obsessively possessive – and tough. He won’t be happy with you for keeping me from him."

He shrugged. "He probably can’t call you all the way from Spokane when you are in the Tri-Cities. He probably wouldn’t even try, if he exchanges blood every time he feeds. But if you are tied to me, that would be certain." He spoke slowly. "We already have had one blood exchange. And I can make sure it won’t be horrible."

If Blackwood called me to him, if he took me as one of his sheep, Adam would bring the pack in to rescue me. Mary Jo had almost paid the ultimate price for my problems already. As long as I stayed in the Tri-Cities, he might not even realize that the reason he couldn’t call me was Stefan.

"Adam is my mate," I told him. I didn’t know if I should tell him that Adam had made me one of the pack. "Can Blackwood get Adam through me?"

Stefan shook his head. "I can’t either. It’s been tried. Our old Master… Marsilia’s maker, liked wolves and experimented. The ties of the blood operate on a different level from the werewolf pack. He took an Alpha’s mate, she was a werewolf also, to his menagerie hoping to control the Alpha and his whole pack through her, and it failed."

"Marsilia likes werewolf to dine upon," I said. I’d seen it for myself.

"From what I’ve seen, I’d say that feeding upon them seems to be addictive," he glanced at me. "I’ve never done it myself. Not until the other night. I don’t intend to do it again."

I was either about to make the stupidest decision of my life or the smartest.

"Is it permanent?" I asked. "This bond between the two of us?"

He gave me a sharp look. Started to say something, but stopped before the words left his mouth. Finally, he said, "I’ve told you things tonight that other vampires don’t know. Forbidden things. If I were Marsilia’s get truly, or if she had not broken my ties with the seethe, I could not have told you that much."

He tapped the palm of his hands on the steering wheel and a giant RV towing a Honda Accord passed us. "These things drive like anemic school buses," he said. "Odd that it should be so much fun."

I waited. If the answer had been yes, the bond is permanent, he wouldn’t be so indecisive. If it wasn’t permanent, once Blackwood was eliminated, it could be removed. A temporary bond with Stefan wasn’t as scary as, say, the more permanent bond between Adam and me.

"Marsilia can break the bonds between Master and sheep," he said. "She can either take them herself, or simply dissolve them."

"That’s not very helpful," I told him. "I have the distinct impression that she’d just as soon kill us both as see us."

"There is that," he said softly. "Yes. But I think, from a few things he’s let drop, that Wulfe can do it, too." His voice grew very cold and un-Stefan-like. "And Wulfe owes me in such a way that even if Marsilia has declared me enemy to the seethe, he could not turn down my request." He relaxed and shook his head. "But as soon as the bond between us was ended, you’d be vulnerable to Blackwood again."

I didn’t find Wulfe much of a step up from Marsilia. But then, I didn’t have a choice, did I? I’d abandoned Amber until I could regroup, but I couldn’t leave Amber to die at Blackwood’s whim. I wondered if Zee still felt guilty enough, because I got hurt trying to help him, to allow me use of his fae-spelled knife and the amulet I’d used to hunt vampires. Maybe even another magically virtuous stake.

I’d never seriously considered killing Marsilia as a way to save myself. First, I’d been to the seethe.

Second, she had too many minions who would kill me back.

So why did I think I could kill Blackwood?

I knew, I knew, that the James Blackwood I’d met was not the real face of the vampire. But I had met him, and he wasn’t too scary. He didn’t have minions. And he was using Amber without her knowledge or permission, turning her into his slave: a woman who left her child alone in a house with a ghost and an almost stranger. I couldn’t help Amber with her ghost… maybe I’d even made it worse. But I could help her with the vampire.

"All right," I said. "I’d rather have to"  –  I nearly choked on the next word – "obey you than listen to him."

He watched me for a heartbeat. "All right," he agreed.

HE PULLED OVER AT A REST AREA. THERE WAS A ROW OF semis parked for the night, but the lot for cars was empty. He unbuckled and walked between the front seats to the back. I followed him slowly.

He sat on the bench seat in the back and patted the seat beside him. When I hesitated, he said, "You don’t have to do this. I’m not going to force you."

If I didn’t have Stefan to interfere, Blackwood probably could make me do whatever he wanted. I’d have no way to help Amber.

Of course, if Marsilia killed me first, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of it.

"Am I putting Adam and his pack in more danger?" I asked.

Stefan did me the courtesy of considering it, though I could smell his eagerness: he smelled like a wolf hot on the trail of something tasty. If I ran, I wondered, would he be compelled to chase me the way a werewolf would have?

I stared at him and reminded myself that I’d known him a long time. He’d never made any move he thought would harm me. This was Stefan, not some nameless hunter.

"I don’t see how," he told me. "Adam won’t like it, I’m sure. Witness his reaction when I called you by accident. But he’s a practical man. He knows all about desperate choices."

I sat down beside him, all too conscious of the cool temperature of his body, cooler, I thought than usual. I was glad to know that this would help him, too. I was really, really tired of causing all my friends nothing but grief.

He brushed my hair away from my neck, and I caught his hand.

"What about the wrist?" The last time he’d bitten my wrist.

He shook his head. "It’s more painful. Too many nerves near the surface." He looked at me. "Do you trust me?"

"I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t."

"Okay. I’m going to restrain you a little because if you jerk while I’m still at your neck, you might make me cut through the wrong thing and you could bleed to death." He didn’t pressure me, just sat on the plush bench seat as if he could stay there the rest of my life.

"How?" I said.

"I’ll have you fold your arms over your stomach, and I’ll hold them there."

I did a panic check, but Tim had never restrained me that way. I tried not to think about how he’d held me down and was only moderately successful.