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“The police have them,” Quinn continued. “Since the cubs attacked us in front of humans, there was no way around police involvement.” We’d talked about Cal Myers on our way to the bar. Quinn had caught only a glimpse of the Were cop, but of course he’d known him for what he was. I wondered if my companion would now raise the issue of Cal Myers’s presence at the station, but Quinn said nothing. And truthfully, why comment on something the Weres were sure to already know? The Were pack would stand together against outsiders, no matter how divided they were among themselves.

Police involvement in Were affairs was undesirable, obviously. Though Cal Myers’s presence on the force would help, every scrutiny raised the possibility that humans would learn of the existence of creatures that preferred anonymity. I didn’t know how they’d flown (or crawled, or loped) under the radar this long. I had a conviction that the cost in human lives had been considerable.

Alcide said, “You should take Sookie home. She’s tired.”

Quinn put his arm around me and pulled me to his side. “When we’ve received your assurance that the pack will get to the bottom of this unprovoked attack, we’ll leave.”

Neat speech. Quinn seemed to be a master of expressing himself diplomatically and firmly. He was a little overwhelming, truthfully. The power flowed from him in a steady stream, and his physical presence was undeniable.

“We’ll convey all this to the packmaster,” Amanda was saying. “He’ll investigate, I’m sure. Someone must have hired these pups.”

“Someone converted them to start with,” Quinn said. “Unless your pack has degraded to biting street punks and sending them out to scavenge?”

Okay, hostile atmosphere now. I looked up at my large companion and discovered that Quinn was nearasthis to losing his temper.

“Thank you all,” I said to Amanda, my bright smile again yanking at the corners of my mouth. “Alcide, Maria-Star, good to see you. We’re going to go now. Long drive back to Bon Temps.” I gave Biker Bartender and Fishnet Girl a little wave. He nodded, and she scowled. Probably she wouldn’t be interested in becoming my best friend. I wriggled out from under Quinn’s arm and linked his hand with mine.

“Come on, Quinn. Let’s hit the road.”

For a bad little moment, his eyes didn’t recognize me. Then they cleared, and he relaxed. “Sure, babe.” He said good-bye to the Weres, and we turned our backs on them to walk out. Even though the little crowd included Alcide, whom I trusted in most ways, it was an uncomfortable moment for me.

I could feel no fear, no anxiety, coming from Quinn. Either he had great focus and control, or he really wasn’t scared of a bar full of werewolves, which was admirable and all, but kind of . . . unrealistic.

The correct answer turned out to be “great focus and control.” I found out when we got to the dim parking lot. Moving quicker than I could track, I was against the car and his mouth was on mine. After a startled second, I was right in the moment. Shared danger does that, and it was the second time—on our first date—that we’d been in peril. Was that a bad omen? I dismissed that rational thought when Quinn’s lips and teeth traveled down to find that vulnerable and sensitive place where the neck curves into the shoulder. I made an incoherent noise, because along with the arousal I always felt when kissed there, I felt undeniable pain from the bruises that circled my neck. It was an uncomfortable combination.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered into my skin, his lips never stopping their assault. I knew if I lowered my hand, I’d be able to touch him intimately. I’m not saying I wasn’t tempted. But I was learning a little caution as I went along . . . probably not enough, I reflected with the sliver of my mind that wasn’t getting more and more involved with the heat that surged up from my lowest nerve bundle to meet the heat generated by Quinn’s lips. Oh, geez. Oh, oh, oh.

I moved against him. It was a reflex, okay? But a mistake, because