Primal Bonds (24 page)

Andrea didn’t even look at Sean. “That beer’s on me,” she said to Dylan. “Nice to see you again.” She deliberately ignored Sean as she sashayed away.

“Trouble in paradise?” Dylan asked with a glint of humor.

Sean growled. “Goddess, Dad, she is the most bloody stubborn, smart-assed, frustrating female I’ve ever met. Did I mention stubborn?”

Dylan’s smile took on a touch of sadness. “She’s like your mother. Niamh had that same trick of looking at me as though she didn’t give a damn about anything I said until I apologized—for whatever it was I’d done to piss her off that time. If I didn’t know what I’d done, that just made things worse.”

“Aye, I remember. And, aye, I’m thinking Andrea’s the same way.”

Across the room, Ellison started up the jukebox with a rocking country tune. Ellison liked all music, as long as it was country and the singer was from Texas.

Dylan leaned across the table to Sean. “Where did you put the sword?”

“Liam’s office, like always. Why?”

“Liam’s in there?”

Sean glanced around. The office door was closed, and Liam hadn’t emerged. “He is.”

“If he’s not back there to watch it, I don’t want it out of your sight.”

“Why, Dad? What’s up?”

“They had plans to steal it,” Dylan said around blare of the music. “Callum and his Feline faction. That’s interesting, don’t you think?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

S
ean stared. “Why the hell should they want the Sword of the Guardian? It’s not like anyone can just pick it up and use it.”

Dylan shrugged as he lifted his beer. “Who knows? To intimidate you, our clan ... this entire Shiftertown, maybe. If Shifters think their souls are in peril because you lost the sword, will they be trusting you?”

“Are they crazy?”

Sean recalled the night he’d been chosen as Guardian, when he’d been barely past cub age. He remembered shivering on a windswept Irish promontory under January moonlight, while the dead body of the previous Guardian lay on the ground, the naked sword across his chest. Sean remembered his dismay as white-hot Goddess magic turned his own blood to fire, his absolute knowledge that
he
would be the one to lift the sword and drive it into the former Guardian’s heart. He’d been terrified that night, Dylan and Niamh so proud.

“Most Shifters know that the Guardian has to be chosen,” Dylan was saying. “But if the Guardian isn’t strong enough to protect the sword, how quickly will they choose a new Guardian, or kill the old one?”

“Bloody hell, Dad. I’m flattered that Callum and his friends thought I had so much power. But the sword is a sacred relic. They’d have messed with that?”

“I’m thinking they would have.”

Sean knew full well that some Shifters now believed they could get to the Summerland without the Guardian to turn the body to dust and release the soul. The sword had been forged for the purpose of keeping Fae from trapping or torturing Shifter souls, but the Fae were no longer around, and having the soul trapped was not a likely danger.

Then again, Sean also knew that superstition died hard. Shifters might
say
they didn’t believe they still needed a magic sword, but Guardians had been around for centuries. Beliefs got lodged deep inside and were not easily pried out.

“Would it scare you, Dad?” he asked out of curiosity. “If the Guardian wasn’t around when your time came?”

Dylan thought as he took another drink. “It’s something we grow up with, the cycle of life: birth, mating, cubs, then the Guardian’s sword at the end. It’s a relief, knowing that you won’t be ending alone, because the Guardian will be there to help you to the Summerland. There’s no evidence we need a Guardian anymore, but why take the chance?”

Sean nodded. “I think that too. I’m betting every Shifter in this bar does.”

“So you see how powerful a Sword of the Guardian would be in the wrong hands? Keep yours safe.”

Sean needed to see the sword now, to know that it still leaned against the wall in Liam’s office with his big brother keeping an eye on it. He glanced toward the office door, but his gaze was arrested halfway there.

Andrea had moved in front of the jukebox, and now she started to dance. A hip swinging, undulating, sexy, gyrating dance. The gaze of every unmated male—Shifter and human alike—swiveled and fixed on her. Ellison whooped and started swaying behind her, beer held high, his body nearly touching hers.

A growl tore from Sean’s throat. Dylan rescued Sean’s beer as Sean sprang from the booth and hurtled across the room to Ellison. Sean’s fingers turned to claws as he latched onto Ellison’s shoulder and jerked him away from Andrea.

Ellison’s Lupine eyes flashed gray white. “Hold on there now, my old friend. We were just dancing.”

“Stay away from her.” Sean’s voice was grating, throat clogged with rage.

The song wailed to an end, and the jukebox clicked off. Silence descended on the room as the two males faced each other. Andrea breathed hard from the dance, her breasts rising most distractingly under her low-cut shirt.

Ellison saw his sideways glance at her and laughed. “Woo, Sean.” He clapped Sean on the shoulder. “You’re walking on a knife edge, my man. Better get this thing blessed, or you’ll be challenging every male who even looks at her.”

Sean knew he should calm himself, laugh it off, but instincts were a bitch. He stepped to Ellison, everything in him wanting to gut the Lupine for coming near Andrea.

Ellison lifted his hands, beer still in one. “Steady, big guy. I’m leaving.” He backed slowly out of range, making sure not to turn his back on Sean.

When Sean didn’t pursue him, the bar relaxed and conversation and laughter started up again. A blood-drenched conflict had been avoided, and Shifters could go back to drinking and enjoying the night.

Andrea was glaring at Sean, hands on hips. “I was dancing, Sean. Get over yourself.” Before Sean could reach for her or say a word, she slammed away from him and marched back to the bar.

A
fter the bar closed, Andrea stashed her apron in the office and left through the back door, only to find Sean waiting for her. The sword’s hilt rose above his shoulder, glittering in the moonlight.

The night was brisk though not as cold as previous nights, spring at last touching the air. The sky had cleared, and the moon was a round disk of white.

Andrea said a silent prayer to the moon goddess and pretended to ignore Sean as he fell into step beside her. He was still angry at her for dancing with Ellison, she felt that, and she was still angry at him for trying to keep her home tonight. The Ellison thing had been partly her fault—she’d been dancing to show Sean what he was missing by being so high-handed.

They reached Shiftertown without either of them saying a word. Though it was late, Shifters lingered on porches, enjoying the brisk night and the bright moonlight. “Now then, Sean,” they called out, in a friendly fashion. “Andrea.”

Sean raised his hand in greeting, and Andrea waved too, secretly pleased that they greeted her by name. The Shifters here were gradually accepting her, and the thought warmed her. She wasn’t fool enough to think they’d welcome her half Faeness with open arms without Sean, but even so, she liked the feeling of belonging.

Glory wasn’t home, the house dark and silent. Dylan hadn’t asked Andrea about Glory tonight, and he’d departed right after Sean had interrupted Andrea’s dance. Andrea had sensed Dylan’s sorrow when she’d brought him the beer, but she doubted he’d make the first overture to Glory. It was too bad. They were two lonely people who needed each other. No, correction, two lonely,
stubborn
people.

Speaking of stubborn, Sean followed Andrea upstairs and into her bedroom. Andrea sat down on the bed, pulled off her shoes, and stretched her aching feet as Sean unbuckled the sword and laid it across the dresser.

Andrea studied the moonlight on the sword as she rotated her ankles. “Can anyone wield the sword but a Guardian?”

Sean gave her a quick, questioning look. “Legend says no.” He skimmed his fingers over the sword, then came to sit on the bed next to her. Right next to her. The mattress dipped with his weight, and as annoyed as Andrea was at him, she realized she’d come to like the sensation.

“Does that mean you’re not sure?”

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers. “It means legend says no. The Guardian must be descended from the original Guardian of the clan, and he is chosen in a spiritual ritual.”

“So I hear. What I mean is, if
I
took the sword and stuck it through a dead Shifter’s heart, would he turn to dust?”

“Actually, I have no idea, love.”

Love
. It was difficult to stay angry at him—not that he was right—when he called her
love
in that warm voice. “As I understand, the original sword was made by a Fae, right?”

Sean nodded, looking curious at her questions. “Created by a Shifter smith and a Fae woman who wove her magic through it. A Fae bastard had wanted a sword made so he could trap and torture Shifter souls with it, but the Fae woman, his sister, turned the tables on him and made it so the sword released the souls instead. That’s the story, anyway.”

“And she made it so the sword can’t hurt Shifters, right?”

“I didn’t say that. If I stick its sharp point into a live Shifter’s body, he’d be a bit pissed off at me. But I’d only stick it in someone if he was dying already or into a crazed feral who needed to go down.”

“
You
would,” Andrea said. “But what if someone else got hold of it?”

Sean’s gaze went sharp. “Has my dad been talking to you?”

“Dylan? No. Why?”

“Because he told me tonight that Callum had planned to grab the sword. He’d wanted to use the fact that he had it to intimidate other Shifters into following him. It could work, I think.”

Damn Callum anyway. Was this what the Fae warrior had been talking about? The danger if she didn’t bring him the sword? Why would a Fae care if Shifters were angry at their Guardian? It made no sense to her.

“Doesn’t Callum’s Shiftertown have its own Guardian?” Andrea said. “Why not take
his
sword?”

“Mine is the original sword made by Niall O’Connell and his Fae mate. The others are later copies. Much more symbolic if Callum stole this one. Besides, his Shiftertown’s Guardian is a bear, and I’m not thinking even Callum would risk pissing off the Ursines. But Liam is new at being leader, and Shifters like to test new leaders. Callum’s clan’s protecting him now, but they know as well as Callum does that if he tries anything else, we’ll take him down, and that will be the end of him.”

Andrea drew her feet to the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. Sean spoke with firm finality, no regrets about the violent justice he’d mete out. But Shifters walked a tightrope now that they lived in Shiftertowns—if they turned against each other, it would be a disaster.

“I think Callum just got bored,” she said. “In Colorado, we were still pretty close to basic survival, no thoughts of conspiracies and that kind of thing. Survival, mating, and raising cubs—that was it.”

Sean looked at her sitting next to him, all folded in on herself, her eyes gray like a misty evening. What male
wouldn’t
want Andrea under him in the night, those beautiful eyes darkening with desire?

“I think Callum’s not wrong that we’ve gotten a little comfortable,” Sean said. “We have food and shelter, time to pray and love and play. Families are staying together and growing larger. So of course we have to start fighting each other for power.”

Andrea gave him a wry look. “When you force different species to coexist on the same patch, there’s bound to be friction. Look at your Dad and Glory.”

“I’m not wanting to at the moment, thank you very much. A better example is you and me.”

“Cross-species mating?” Andrea said with a little smile. “Can it possibly work? We could go on an afternoon talk show.”

“I want it to work.” Sean turned the full force of his gaze on her. “Because when I first saw you, love, I started to believe in forever.”

A
ndrea gazed back at him with gray eyes so filled with loneliness that Sean’s heart squeezed hard. He wanted to make all her hurts go away, and damn it, he would.