Free Branded by Fire by Nalini Singh

sting, she shoved away using a move that snaked her out of his hold. “I meant what I said, Riley. Once was enough.” Liar, liar.
    He didn’t attempt to grab her again, watching her dress with eyes gone amber as he finished pulling on his own clothes. “That’s not what your body says.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s not the best judge of character.” Ignoring the weight of his gaze, she scraped her hair into a tight ponytail, having finally remembered stuffing a thick rubber band into her jeans as she left work a couple of days earlier. “I’ve got no room in my life for a male who’s going to tell me what to do.”
    “This is just sex.”
    He was trying to make her mad. As if she’d fall for that. “Oh, puhleeze.” Snorting, she went to grab her boots. “Nothing’s just sex with men like you—the instant you take a lover, you become all ‘I man, you woman. You do as I say.’ ” And no matter how much she wanted a mate, Mercy couldn’t submit. Not that way. Not to a man who wanted her to be something different. It would break her. “Then you beat your chests and howl at the moon.”
    Riley wasn’t amused. “You don’t think you can handle me?”
    Okay, so maybe he was really good at pushing her buttons. “I said I don’t have the time.” Hopping on one foot, she put on her boot.
    Fighting the urge to trap her against the tree and bring this conversation down to the basics, Riley fisted his hands. Mercy sucked in a breath at almost the same instant. He froze. “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    But her teeth were gritted in obvious pain. Looking down at the bare foot she was now holding off the ground, he quickly made the connection. “What did you step on?” His wolf rose to the surface, protective and more than a little possessive.
    “Nothing.”
    Stubborn cat.
    He headed over and knelt down in front of her, lifting her foot higher so he could look at the sole. “This nothing sure looks like a big, fat thorn.” It angered him to see her flesh marred by the spike that had already drawn blood.
    Her hand landed on his shoulder as she balanced herself. “I can take care of it.”
    Instead of dropping her foot, he held on tighter. “Have you had your shots?” he asked, knowing she’d hate any kind of sympathy. Mercy was as proud as they came. And for some reason, it was important to him that that pride never be crushed. “I don’t want to catch rabies.”
    “Ha-ha,” she muttered, but her voice was strained. “Since you won’t let go, can you get it out?”
    He checked the ground to make sure there were no other dangers. Mercy’s opinions on the matter notwithstanding, he was a protector. Taking care of the woman he was rapidly coming to consider his own was as natural to him as breathing. “It’ll be easier if you sit.” He didn’t offer to help her down, just watched to make sure she didn’t hurt herself any more.
    Once she had her back to the trunk, he put her foot on his lap and grimaced. “It won’t be pretty—I think your skin’s started to heal around it.” That was the problem with changelings—they healed quickly, especially when it came to minor flesh wounds. But if this healed over, the thorn would remain embedded in her heel.
    “Do it.” She set her jaw.
    Shifting so his back was to her, he pressed the flesh on either side of the thorn with enough force to send it through the surface. He heard Mercy suck in another breath, knew she was hurting. The damn thorn had barbs. His wolf swept over his skin, hackles raised. Every male instinct in him wanted to give comfort, but he knew Mercy would hate that with a capital H . “You know,” he said, fighting to keep his tone even, “I think I see a family resemblance. Maybe that’s why it was drawn to you.”
    “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” It was a little breathless.
    Another hard press got the thorn most of the way out. “Say ahhhh.” One final application of pressure and the ugly thing was out. He made sure