Iron Kissed (15 page)

We stared at each other—and he could see I believed him because he pulled a small notebook and a pen out of his back pocket and ripped out a sheet of paper.

“We're holding the meeting at my place on Wednesday. This is the address. I think you ought to come.” He took my hand and put the piece of paper in it.

As his hands folded around mine, I felt Samuel approach. His hand closed on my shoulder.

I nodded at Tim. “Thank you for keeping me company,” I told him. “This was an interesting evening. Thank you.”

Samuel's hand tightened on my shoulder before he released it completely. He stayed behind me as I walked out of the pizza place. He opened the passenger door of his car for me, then got in the driver's side.

His silence was unlike him—and it worried me.

I started to say something, but he held up a hand in a mute request for me to be quiet. He didn't seem angry, which actually surprised me after the display he'd put on for Tim. But he didn't start the car and drive off either.

“I love you,” he said finally, and not happily.

“I know.” My stomach tightened into knots and I forgot all about Tim and Citizens for a Bright Future. I didn't want to do this now. I didn't want to do this ever. “I love you, too.” My voice didn't sound any happier than his did.

He stretched his neck and I heard the vertebrae crack. “So why aren't I tearing that little geeky bastard into pieces right now?”

I swallowed. Was this a trick question? Was there a right answer?

“Uhm. You don't seem too angry,” I suggested.

He hit the dash of his very expensive car so fast that I didn't even really see his hand move. If his upholstery hadn't been leather, he'd have cracked it.

I thought about saying something funny, but decided it wasn't quite the moment. I've learned a
little
something since I was sixteen.

“I guess I was mistaken,” I said. Nope. Haven't learned a thing.

He turned his head slowly toward me, his eyes hard chips of ice. “Are you laughing at me?”

I put my hand over my mouth, but I couldn't help it. My shoulders started to shake because I suddenly knew the answer to his question. And that told me why it bothered him that he wasn't in a killing rage. Like me, Samuel had had a revelation tonight—and he wasn't happy about it.

“Sorry,” I managed. “Sucks, doesn't it?”

“What?”

“You had this great plan. You'd weasel your way into my house and carefully seduce me. But you don't want to seduce me all that much. What you really want to do is cuddle, play, and tease.” I grinned at him, and he must have been able to smell the relief pouring off me. “I'm not the love of your life; I'm your pack—and it's really ticking you off.”

He said something really crude as he started the car—a nice Old English word.

I giggled and he swore again.

That he didn't really consider me his mate answered a lot of questions. And it told me that Bran, who was both the Marrok and Samuel's father, didn't know everything, even if he and everyone else thought he did. Bran was the one who told me Samuel's wolf had decided I was his mate. He'd been wrong: I was going to rub his nose in it next time I saw him.

Now I knew why Samuel been able to restrain himself and not attack Adam all these months. I'd been crediting Samuel's control with a dash of the magic that comes from being more dominant than most other wolves on the planet. The real answer was that I
wasn't
Samuel's mate. And since he was more dominant than Adam, if he didn't want to fight, it would make it much easier for Adam to hold off.

Samuel didn't want me any more than I wanted him—not that way. Oh, the physical stuff was there, plenty of spark and fizzle. Which was puzzling.

“Hey, Sam,” I asked. “Why is it, if you don't want me as a mate, that when you kiss me, I go up in flames?” Why was it that after the first rush of relief was over—I was starting to feel miffed that he didn't actually want me as a mate?

“If I were human, the heat between us would be enough,” he told me. “Damned wolf feels sorry for you and decided to step down.”

Now that made no sense at all. “Excuse me?”

He looked at me and I realized he was still angry, his eyes glittering with icy fury. Samuel's wolf has snow-white eyes that are freaking scary in a human face.

“Why are you still angry?”

He pulled over on the shoulder of the highway and stared at the lights of Home Depot. “Look, I know my father spends a lot of time trying to convince the new wolves that the human and wolf are two halves of a whole—but that's not really true. It is just easier to live with and most of the time it's so close to being the truth that it doesn't matter. But we're different, the wolf and the human. We think differently.”

“Okay,” I said. I could kind of understand that. There were plenty of times when my coyote instincts fought against what I needed to do.

He closed his eyes. “When you were about fourteen and I realized what a gift had been dropped in my lap, I showed you to the wolf and he approved. All I had to do was convince you—and myself.” He turned to look me squarely in the eyes and he reached out and touched my face. “For a true mating, it isn't necessary for the human half to even like your mate. Look at my father. He despises his mate, but his wolf decided that he had been alone long enough.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was right, because when Charles's mother died, I thought my father would die right along with her.”

Everyone knew how much Bran had loved his Indian mate. I think that was part of what made Leah, Bran's current mate, a little crazy.

“So it is the wolf who mates,” I said. “Carrying the man along for the ride whether he wants to or not?”

He smiled. “Not quite that bad—except maybe in my father's case, though he's never said anything against Leah. He never would, nor permit anyone else to say anything against her in his hearing either. But we weren't talking about him.”

“So you set your wolf on me,” I said, “when I was
fourteen
.”

“Before anyone else could claim you. I was not the only old wolf in my father's pack. And fourteen was not an uncommon age for marriage in older days. I couldn't chance a prior claim.” He rolled down the window to let the cooler night air flush the stuffy car. The noise of the traffic zipping past us increased dramatically. “I waited,” he whispered. “I knew you were too young but…” He shook his head. “When you left, it was a just punishment. We both knew it, the wolf and I. But one moon I found myself outside of Portland where the wolf had taken us. The
need
…we went all the way to Texas to make sure there was no chance of an accidental meeting. Without distance…I don't know that I could have let you leave.”

So, Bran had been right about Samuel after all. I couldn't bear the closed-off look on his face and I put my hand over his.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“You shouldn't be. It wasn't your fault.” His smile changed to a lopsided grin as his hand gripped mine almost painfully tight. “Usually things work out better. The wolf is patient and adaptable. Mostly he waits until your human half finds someone to love and then he claims her, too. Sometimes years after they marry. I did it backward on purpose and got caught in the backlash. Not your fault. I knew better.”

There's something really disturbing about finding out how little you really know about something you felt like you were an expert on. I grew up with the wolves—and this was all news to me.

“But your wolf doesn't want me now?” That came out pretty pathetic sounding. I didn't need his laugh to tell me so.

“Jerk,” I said, poking him.

“Here I thought you were above all that girl stuff,” he said. “You don't want me as your mate, Mercy, so why are you miffed that my wolf finally admitted defeat?”

If he'd known how much that last statement told me about how hurt he was that I'd rejected him, I think he'd have bitten off his tongue. Was it better to talk about it—or just let it pass by?

Hey, I may be a mechanic and I may not use makeup very often, but I'm still a girl: it was time to talk it out.

I nudged him. “I love you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned sideways so he could see me without twisting his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you're hot—and a terrific kisser. And if your father hadn't interfered, I'd have run away with you all those years ago.”

The smile slid off his face, and I couldn't tell what he was feeling at all. Not with my eyes or my nose—which is usually a better indicator. Maybe he was feeling as confused as I was.

“But I'm different now, Samuel. I've been taking care of myself too long to be happy letting anyone else do it. The girl you knew was sure that you would make a place for her to belong—and you would have.” I had to say this right. “Instead I made a place for myself and the process changed me into who I am now. I'm not the kind of person you'd be happy with, Samuel.”

“I'm happy with you,” he said stubbornly.

“As a roommate,” I told him. “As a packmate. As a mate mate you'd be unhappy.”

He laughed then. “A mate mate?”

I waved an airy hand. “You know what I mean.”

“And you're in love with Adam,” he said quietly, then a little humor crept into his voice. “You'd better not flirt with that geek in front of Adam.”

I raised my chin; I was
not
going to feel guilty. Nor did I understand my feelings for Adam well enough to discuss them tonight.

“And you're not
in
love with me.” I realized something more and it made me grin at Samuel. “Wolf or not, you aren't in love with me—otherwise you wouldn't have been getting such a charge out of teasing Adam all this time.”

“I was
not
teasing Adam,” he said, offended. “I was courting you.”

“Nope,” I said, settling back in my chair. “You were tormenting Adam.”

“I was not.” He started the car and pulled out aggressively into the traffic.

“You're speeding,” I told him smugly.

He turned his head to say something to put me in my place, but just then the cop behind us lit up.

 

We were almost home when he decided to quit being offended.

“All right,” he said, relaxing his hands on the steering wheel. “All right.”

“I don't know what you were so mad about,” I said. “You didn't even get a ticket. Twenty miles an hour over the speed limit and all you got was a warning. Must be nice being a doctor.”

Once the cop had recognized him, she'd been all kinds of nice. He'd apparently treated her brother after a car wreck.

“There are a couple of cops whose cars I take care of,” I murmured. “Maybe if I flirted with them, they'd—”

“I was
not
flirting with her,” he ground out.

He wasn't usually so easy. I settled in for some real fun.

“She was certainly flirting with you, Dr. Cornick,” I said, even though she hadn't been. Still…

“She was
not
flirting with me either.”

“You're speeding again.”

He growled.

I patted his leg. “See, you didn't want to be stuck with me for a mate.”

He slowed as the highway dumped us in Kennewick and we had to travel on city streets for a while.

“You are horrible,” he said.

I smirked. “You accused me of flirting with Tim.”

He snorted. “You were flirting. Just because I didn't take him apart doesn't mean you aren't fishing in dangerous waters, Mercy. If it had been Adam with you tonight, that boy would be feeding the fishes—or the wolves. And I am not kidding.”

I patted his leg again and took a deep breath. “I didn't mean to let it be a flirtation, I just got caught up in the conversation. I should have been more careful with a vulnerable boy like him.”

“He isn't a boy. If he's five years younger than you, I'd be surprised.”

“Some people are boys longer than others,” I told him. “And that boy and his friend were both in O'Donnell's house not too long before he was killed.”

I told Samuel the whole story, from the time Zee picked me up until I'd taken the paper from Tim. If I left anything out, it was because I didn't think it was important. Except, I didn't tell him that Austin Summers was probably the brother of one of the boys who beat up on Jesse. Samuel's temper might be easier than Adam's—but he'd kill both boys without a shred of remorse. In his world, you didn't beat up girls. I'd come up with a suitable punishment, but I didn't think anyone needed to die over it. Not as long as they quit bothering Jesse.

That was the only thing I left out. Both Zee and Uncle Mike had left me to my own devices in this investigation. Okay, they'd told me not to investigate, which amounted to the same thing. Proceeding without any help from the fae made investigating riskier than it would have otherwise been, and Zee was already mad at me for sharing what I had. More wouldn't make him any madder. The time for keeping their secrets strictly to myself was over.

If there was one thing I'd learned over the past few interesting (in the sense of the old Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times”) months, it was that when things started to get dangerous, it was important to have people who knew as much as you did. That way, when I stupidly got myself killed—someone would have a starting place to look for my murderer.

By the time I was finished telling him everything, we were sitting in the living room drinking hot chocolate.

The first thing Samuel said was, “You have a real gift for getting into trouble, don't you? That was one thing I forgot when you left the pack.”

“How is any of this my fault?” I asked hotly.