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Silver Borne

by Patricia Briggs



Being a mechanic is hard work. Mercy Thompson, for instance, just spent the last couple of months trying to evade the murderous queen of the local vampire seethe, and now the leader of the werewolf pack - who's maybe-more-than-just-a-friend - has asked for her help. A book of fae secrets has come to light and they're all about to find out how implacable - and dangerous - the fae can be. OK, so maybe her troubles have nothing to do with the job. But she sure could use a holiday ...

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...hurt him needlessly. I would adjust in time--I didn't have any choice if I wanted to keep him. If I had to deal with only the mate bond between Adam and me, it would be easier. But he'd made me pack, too, and when the link worked as it was supposed to, I could feel all of them there, with me. And with that bond, apparently, they could suck energy from me and make me fight with their Alpha. Alone in my head, it was easy to look back and see how it had happened--a nudge here, a push there. I would do a great deal to keep Adam from being hurt, but not endanger an innocent--and I have never in my life given anyone the silent treatment. Anyone who offends me deserves to hear exactly how they trespassed--or needs to be lulled into a false sense of security before the sneak attack when they aren't paying attention. But silence had been Adam's ex-wife's weapon of choice. Whoever had worked on me was trying to drive us apart. So who had it been? The whole pack? Part of the pack? Was...

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All comments: 2


11 Jan 2011 19:47:12

nice book!


17 Sep 2010 07:48:02

A wonderful book and some in fighting and romance. This is a great read and ties up some loose ends and Sam finally finds a reason to live.

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SAM SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND GAVE ME A sour look. He'd been mad at me since I put his collar on--but the collar was camouflage. It made him look more like a dog. Something domesticated enough for a collar, not a wild animal. Fear brings violence out in the wolves, so the fewer people who are scared of them, the better. "I'm not going to roll the window down, " I told him. "This car doesn't have automatic windows. I'd have to pull over and go around and lower it manually. Besides, it's cold outside, and unlike you, I don't have a fur coat. " He lifted his lip in a mock snarl and put his nose down on the dashboard with a thump. "You're smearing the windshield, " I told him. He looked at me and deliberately ran his nose across his side of the glass. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, that was mature. The last time I saw someone do something that grown-up was when my little sister was twelve.


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I was pretty sure the engine had gone to the great junkyard in the sky--




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