Sean nodded his thanks. He approached the driver’s side, and Andrea slid over to let him get in. Sean carefully laid the sword across the seat, but the pickup was narrow, and the hilt had to rest on Andrea’s lap.
“Goddess go with you,” Ellison said as Sean buckled his seat belt. “Andrea, don’t let this Feline get you into any trouble, now, hear?”
“No worries there,” Andrea said, giving him a little smile. “Will you tell Glory where I am if she comes back?”
“You bet.” Ellison patted the top of the truck and stepped away as Sean pulled the truck away from the curb. Ellison watched them go, his stance somber.
Sean was silent as they rolled through the streets outside Shiftertown. As though a switch had flipped in him, Sean had gone from a Shifter male flirting with a female to a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His blue eyes flickered as he gave the traffic on Ben White a steely gaze, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
“Sean,” she said softly. “Please don’t count on me to save your cousin. Ronan’s was a flesh wound. If vital organs have been hit, that’s different.”
Sean acknowledged this with a tight nod. “I know that, love. But I can’t not try.”
“Oh, I’m willing to try. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“I like hope,” he said, his mouth softening. “Hope—it’s a fine thing.”
The sheathed sword’s hilt was hard on Andrea’s lap. She brushed it with her fingertips and felt the Fae magic in it, a tingle that worked its way through her body. Andrea could see it in her mind, golden threads of Fae spells wafting from the metal.
She saw those same kinds of threads in her nightmares too, shimmering wires that sought to bind her, to trap her. Last night, she’d fought them again, flailing and thrashing to get away, and they’d drawn tighter, tighter.
She drew a sharp breath.
Sean glanced at her, his face too tight. He was nearly vibrating with tension, his grief and anger held too closely inside him. Shifters shouldn’t do that; it ate them up.
Whenever Shifters became overwhelmed with an emotion, especially one like grief, they withdrew from the world, taking time alone to work through it. This instinct had kept the pack from weakening in the wild, because the pack leader wouldn’t have to worry about protecting a Shifter too grief-stricken to fight. But Sean could never disappear for weeks while he licked his wounds, because the clan always needed its Guardian. The Guardian freed souls with one thrust of the sword but was never free himself.
Andrea lifted the sword and slid over in the seat until her thigh touched his. Sean’s need for touch screamed itself at her, and she couldn’t justify denying him comfort because she wasn’t certain how she felt about his mate-claim.
The Shifter in her recognized that Sean had ten times the strength of Jared, physically and emotionally, not to mention in the dominance department. If Sean ever decided to force the mate-claim, Andrea might not be able to withstand him. Sean could have forced it today—hell, any time since she’d arrived. But he hadn’t. He’d soothed her fear with his Shifter touch and told her he’d wait for her. That put Sean a hundred times higher in her estimation than spoiled-brat Jared.
Andrea slid her hand around Sean’s arm, shivering a little at the hardness of the bicep under her palm. Sean looked down at her, eyes deep blue.
“Thank you, Andy-love.”
“Keep your eyes on the road, hot ass. Austin traffic is insane.”
A tiny smile brushed his mouth. “Isn’t it, though?”
“It is. I’m used to wide open roads and mountain vistas.”
“You’ll not be getting that here, love. But I can show you some beautiful places. It’s not so bad.”
“Says the man from Ireland, where mountains don’t exist.”
Sean took his hand from the wheel to rest it over hers, rough fingers tightening. “We had some grand hills there.” His voice matched hers, two people trying to say lighthearted things to keep from thinking about terrible ones. “You should see the black cliffs tumbling into the sea in County Kerry. ’Tis a beautiful sight.”
“But it’s not the Rockies.” While she spoke, Sean squeezed her hand ever-more tightly. “You look at those mountains, and you know no one rules them. Not humans, not Shifters. They’ve stood there for eons, dominating the edge of the plains, fearing nothing.”
“Same thing in Kerry. ’Tis an old place, ancient. You can feel it in your bones. All this—Shifters, humans, Fae—doesn’t matter.”
“You miss Ireland.”
“Aye. But it’s grand here too. No more hunger, no more struggle. Just time to watch Connor grow up, see Liam mated and about to become a father. We’re stronger now, more likely to survive.” His jaw hardened. “Except for humans and their stupid weapons.”
“They won’t win,” Andrea squeezed his hand in return, noting that Sean’s body smelled damn good.
“No, lass, they won’t.”
He fell silent, concentrating on the traffic bottled up on the interstate. In impatience, Sean shot off the freeway to take a back highway that headed straight south.
The clinic lay just inside the city limits of San Antonio on the southeast side. Not many places treated Shifters, and ones that did were quickly deserted by their human clientele.
Sean parked in the clinic’s small lot and came around to open Andrea’s door for her. She handed him the sword, which he strapped to his back, and they went inside to the clinical smell of disinfectant.
Shifters were clumped inside the waiting room—they’d be friends and members of the clan. When they saw Sean walk in, his big sword on his back, some turned away and murmured prayers; others simply looked at him. They all knew what his presence here meant.
Andrea walked beside Sean without meeting any gazes. She saw nostrils widen, eyes snap to her as they smelled Fae, but no one moved to stop her. They wouldn’t while she was with the Guardian.
Dylan waited for them near a nurses’ station in the hall beyond. The nurse there, human, came out from behind the desk when Sean and Andrea entered, her already fierce expression turning to one of outrage.
“You can’t go in there,” she snapped at Sean. “Not with that.”
She held out her hand as though Sean would meekly unstrap the Sword of the Guardian and give it to her, like an unruly pupil handing over a toy to his angry teacher.