I raised my eyebrows. "That's a little harsh, isn't it?"

"They're idiots," he said. "Have you ever read the original Brothers Grimm? The fae aren't big-eyed, gentle-souled gardeners or brownies who sacrifice themselves for the children in their care. They live in the forest in gingerbread houses and eat the children they lure in. They entice ships onto rocks and then drown the surviving sailors."

So, I thought, here was my chance. Was I going to investigate this group and see if they knew anything that would help Zee? Or was I going to back out gracefully and avoid hurting this fragile—and well-informed man.

Zee was my friend and he was going to die unless someone did something. As far as I could tell, I was the only someone who was doing anything at all.

"Those are just stories," I said with just the right amount of hesitation.

"So is the Bible," he said solemnly. "So is every history book you read. Those fairy tales were passed down as a warning by people who could neither read nor write. People who wanted their children to understand that the fae are dangerous."

"There's never been a case of a fae convicted of hurting any human," I said, repeating the official line. "Not in all the years since they officially came out."

"Good lawyers," he said truthfully. "And suspicious suicides by fae 'who could no longer bear being held so near cold-iron bars. "

He was persuasive—because he was right.

"Look," he said. "The fae don't love humans. We are nothing to them. Until Christianity and good steel came along, we were short-lived playthings with a tendency to breed too fast. Afterward we were short-lived, dangerous playthings. They have power, Mercy, magic that can do things you wouldn't believe—but it's all there in the stories."

"So why haven't they killed us?" I asked. It wasn't really an idle question. I'd wondered about it for a long time. The Gray Lords, according to Zee, were incredibly powerful. If Christianity and iron were such a bane to them, why weren't we all dead?

"They need us," he said. "The pure fae do not breed easily, if at all. They need to intermarry in order to keep their race going." He put both hands on the table. "They hate us for that most of all. They are proud and arrogant and they hate us because they need us. And the minute they don't need us anymore, they will dispose of us like we dispose of cockroaches and mice."

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."