Frost Burned (Mercy Thompson, #7)

by Patricia Briggs

And you raised a man who cannot leave someone he cares about to face that danger alone, any more than he could desert his friends just because it was the safer, smarter thing to do. Not even if his mother asked him to—because it was she who taught him how to love other people in the first place.

Paranoia: the gift of the survivor and the burden of the overtired, stressed, terrified coyote.

My official story is that I woke up and the place they were holding us was on fire, so we escaped. Officially, I don’t know anything except that they seemed to want me to assassinate the senator.” “Is it on fire?” “Not yet,” said Adam.

“It’s not smart to touch a grumpy old fae’s things,” he said. “It wants me to touch it,” she explained earnestly. “All the more reason not to do it,” Adam told

“Do they always flirt with biblical quotes?” Asil asked Tad. In long-suffering tones, Tad said, “They can flirt with the periodic table or a restaurant menu. We’ve learned to live with

“You’ll be the death of me,” he told me. “I could wish you less bold, less brave—less driven by right and wrong.” “Too bad for you,” I commiserated. “I know it’s rough. My husband tried to kill himself to save the pack, you know. And earlier today, he faced down a fae he knew nothing about—and some of the fae are forces of nature.” “My wife was going to fight him,” explained Adam. “I had to protect him from that.”

“I’ve been good about not dying so far,” I said. “You should quit concerning yourself with my health.”

The fight is to the death of the captains.” “Excuse me,” I said diffidently. “But both the captains are already dead.”

I was going to fight vampires, and my name wasn’t Buffy—I was so screwed.

“Are you arguing with a ghost, Mercy?” asked Wulfe in an interested voice from somewhere on the far side of the basement from me. “Good for you.”