Moon Called (Mercy Thompson, #1)

by Patricia Briggs

MS. THOMPSON, it said in heavy block letters, PLEASE KEEP YOUR FELINE OFF MY PROPERTY. IF I SEE IT AGAIN, I WILL EAT IT.

“Mine,” he said. Adam’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. She is mine.” It would have been flattering, I thought, except that at least one of them was talking about dinner and I wasn’t certain about the other.

Insulting witches is right up there on the stupid list with enraging Alpha werewolves and cuddling with a new wolf next to a dead body: all of which I’d done tonight.

“Da means well,” Sam told me, as I started backing out, proving that he knew me better than his father did. “He’s used to dealing with people who listen when he tells them something. Mercy, he’s right, though. You aren’t up to dealing with werewolf business.” “Seems to me that she’s been dealing just fine,” Adam said mildly. “She killed two of them in as many days and came out of it without a scratch.” “Luck,” said Samuel. “Is it?” In my rearview mirror, I saw Adam close his eyes as he finished in almost a whisper. “Maybe so. When I was in the army, we kept lucky soldiers where they would do us the most good.”

I could conceal myself behind the door or in the big, sliding-door closet—some clichés are clichés because they work.