At least, I thought, Adam isn’t giving me that “nothing is wrong” answer anymore. I wasn’t entirely sure that it was an improvement. If he’d been lying to me, I could be mad at him. That might feel better than this lump in my throat.

“Let’s go see what we can do for her,” Adam said.

“Why am I here?” I asked him. “You don’t need me for this. She doesn’t even like me.”

“Sure she does,” said Darryl unexpectedly. “Why do you think she’s so mad at you about Christy?”

“That makes sense how?” I asked, flummoxed.

“As much sense as lying to your mate who is a werewolf,” Darryl answered. “She is smart, passionate, and loyal. In situations that draw on all three of those, logic flies out the window.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But that doesn’t tell me why you need me to come.”

“I don’t know about him,” Darryl said. “But I’m hoping she’ll be so focused on you that she’ll forget to be mad at me. I want to be able to sleep tonight without having to keep one eye open.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Happy to help.”

ADAM’S OFFICE WAS NOT LARGE ENOUGH FOR FOUR people to fit comfortably. That was even more evident when three of them were dominant werewolves.

Adam sat in the chair behind his desk. Auriele occupied the other chair, a leather and maple work of art that Christy had given Adam for their anniversary one year. That left Darryl holding up a wall and me sitting on Adam’s desk.

Auriele was sitting as though she were modeling for a portrait, she was that still. She held her body like a dancer just before the music starts, back upright and body tense. Her legs were tucked back, ready to push her to her feet at any time.

She had barely acknowledged any of us.

Adam pursed his lips. “So how do you think Harolford—always assuming he is the one in charge—will work his attack? Slow and steady? Or blitzkrieg with all barrels firing?”

Auriele finally looked up. “Are you asking me?” Her tone was incredulous.

Adam looked at Darryl, who was keeping his face neutral, and then me before looking at Auriele. His face was slightly amused. “Yes.”

She glared at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we were going to talk about my behavior,” she said, her voice a growl.

Adam tilted his head. “Why? You know what you did today was stupid. We know that there is something behind it that’s a lot more traumatic than my ex-wife’s disappointment about Jesse’s choice of schools. I’m not going to ask you about it. Just inform you that”—his voice dropped low and softened dangerously as his eyes turned yellow—“you need to stop letting it affect you to the point where you are useless to the pack.”

She met his eyes for a long moment before water gathered on her lower lids. I twisted around and opened a drawer in Adam’s desk to grab a tissue. When I turned around, Darryl was kneeling beside her, one of his big arms wrapped around her. To accommodate his hold, she had slid to the very edge of the chair.

I handed her the tissue. She grabbed it and wiped her eyes.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Mercy. I should have talked to you before I acted. I know that Christy isn’t logical about you.”

I made a humming noise. “It’s probably the blue hair dye that I may or may not have put in the shampoo container she left in my shower,” I told her. “I wouldn’t like me, either, if I were her.”

Her lips turned up and she gave a half laugh. “Yes, Mercy. I’m sure that the blue dye is the real reason that Christy doesn’t like you.”

She looked at Adam. “I’m sorry. I had some family news a few days ago.” She drew in a breath, and when she spoke again, she was talking to Darryl. “My youngest sister is pregnant with twins.”

The silence that followed was full of sharp edges.

Auriele and Darryl had no children. Male werewolves could father children—but female werewolves could not carry them. The moon’s call ensured that all werewolves had to change. The change from human to wolf is violent, too violent for a fetus to survive the first trimester.

Auriele’s youngest sister was not a werewolf.

“Surrogate,” said Darryl, his voice decisive.

“Who would be a surrogate for a werewolf?” Auriele shot back. The speed of her response told me that this was an old argument.

“Someone who wanted to become a werewolf anyway,” answered Adam. “Let me speak to Bran.”

They both blinked at Adam as if it had not occurred to them.

“I don’t know that there is such a woman,” he continued. “And even if we can locate one, it might be hard to find a reproductive specialist willing to work with our situation.”

“And if you find someone like that,” said Auriele, “there will be a long line of werewolves who want children. And our pack is not affiliated with the Marrok anymore.”

Adam shrugged. “You have time. As long as you don’t force me to kill you or Darryl in the meantime.”

“So don’t start that fight, mi vida,” said Darryl.

She laughed, though it sounded shaky. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She rubbed her hands together, rolling the damp tissue into a ball. She leaned a little harder into Darryl and said. “Blitzkrieg. There is no other way for them to succeed. This is our territory and we have resources here. They need to make you look weak, make the pack feel unprotected. So they have to hit us hard and heavy. Mary Jo’s beau won’t be the only family member hit.”

“He wasn’t hurt,” I said.

“First salvo,” said Darryl. “They are telling our pack, ‘Look at us, we can take yours and return him unharmed because we are just that powerful.’”

“I agree,” said Adam. “None of our vulnerable is safe.”

“Should we call them into the pack house?” I asked.

Auriele shook her head. “No. Not yet. We have to trust our people. Adam’s been instilling fighting skills in all of us, willing or not, way before Darryl or I joined the pack. We can protect our own. If someone needs support, then they can call for help.”

“How about assigning some of the single wolves to help keep watch over the families?” I suggested.

“I’ll get that done,” said Darryl.

“Okay,” said Adam, checking his watch. “If you leave now, Auriele won’t be late for work.”

They left and shut the door behind them. I turned around on the desk until I was facing Adam. I took a moment and just looked at him, seeing the stress of whatever was bothering him, the cost of the sleepless nights, and the toll that came with being the Alpha of the pack. I’d been toying with an idea that might help him, and looking at his careworn face gave me the hit of courage I needed.

I slid off the desk on Adam’s side and grabbed his hand. He grabbed my hand in return—just a little tighter than he normally would have. I leaned back and hauled him out of his chair—he didn’t resist, so I didn’t have to pull too hard.

“Come on,” I said grimly.

“Come where?” he asked.

“I have something you need to see.” I kept his hand in mine as I went back upstairs, ignoring the sounds of lingering pack members from the kitchen and living room.

“What is it?” Adam asked me.

I shook my head. “Wait.”

I took him into our bedroom and closed the door, letting go of his hand as I did so. I leaned an ear against the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He moved farther into the room, rubbing his neck tiredly.

“Making sure that there isn’t anyone to overhear,” I whispered.

He gave me a frown. “There isn’t anyone upstairs, Mercy. You and I can both tell that. What is this all about?”

I turned back to him. “For what I’m going to reveal to you,” I said seriously, “I want to be absolutely sure that we are alone.”

He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. He’d been stressed and exhausted before all hell had broken loose yesterday. Something needed to give before the invading werewolf pack was the least of our worries.

I pulled down the roller shades over the windows, explaining, “I don’t want my stalker to see or hear anything, either.”

“It’s daytime,” he said.

“I don’t trust daytime to stop Wulfe,” I said, half-seriously. “And I don’t want him to see this.”

He made a growling noise. “Mercy—”

I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. Unhooking my bra, I shrugged it off, too.

Adam went silent.

“I told you I had something to show you,” I murmured in what I hoped was a sexy purr.

I was not sexually brave—had not been even before my assault a while back. Without Adam, it was not unimaginable that I would never have opened up enough after that to even take a lover, let alone a mate. But resisting Adam was never in my cards—this morning, I hoped he felt the same way.

He didn’t say anything, nor could I read the expression on his face. Maybe he was suppressing what he felt—or maybe with the shades drawn to darken the room and his head bent to put his eyes even deeper into the shadows, I just couldn’t see him well enough to interpret his expression.

My heart was in my mouth and I was too … “frightened” was not quite the right word, but it was fear that kept my breathing shallow. Fear of rejection. Fear that whatever had him all but strangling our mating bond would stop him from taking up my invitation—and what that would mean about our relationship going forward from this moment. So maybe “frightened” was exactly the right word.

Without a reaction from him, I had two choices.

First, I could grab my clothes and tell him I had to go to work—and it wouldn’t be a lie even though I had texted Tad during the meeting that I would not be in today until after lunch (along with a warning to watch his back because there were some interesting things happening).