“I’m curious. How’d it go?”

Zander gritted his teeth. “I know what you’re doing, Gwen.” She was trying to make the conversation superficial, trying to keep him at a distance. That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t interested in fucking a stranger, and he wanted to know her better. “No, I haven’t. Shifters tend to save anal sex for their mates. Now, I have another question for you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she mumbled.

“How long have you lived with Yvonne?”

“Since I was eight. Now you. What do you prefer—tits or ass?”

“Gwen.”

She turned to the window. “Fine, don’t answer.”

“I’m more of an ass-man. And you, by the way, have a hot little ass. One last question.” For now, anyway. “What happened to your foster father?” he asked softly, already suspecting the male was dead.

“The first one died in a car accident.”

He frowned. “There was a second one? What happened to him?”

“Karma.” She sighed. “So, you like to use toys in bed?”

Zander grinned wickedly and lightly squeezed her thigh. “You’d be my toy, baby.”

Her whole body seemed to flush at that. She’d heard about sex with shifters. Heard it was rough, intense, mind-blowing. What was the dumb phrase the shifter groupies used? Once you go shifter, you’ll never go back. She’d always snickered at that. But while Zander’s potent sex appeal swamped her, and she fairly ached for him, she suspected that he would leave a lasting impression on her. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

As they pulled up in front of the B&B and she spotted a familiar Audi, Gwen’s libido instantly cooled down. The owner of said Audi was standing on the porch with Marlon, and they were having some kind of standoff.

Zander studied the thin, lanky male standing on the porch. Zander didn’t recognize him from Half ’n’ Half, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen him around. “Who’s that?”

She unbuckled her seat belt. “My ex-therapist, Aidan.”

Zander’s brows snapped together. The idea that she might have suffered some sort of trauma made anger surge through him, but he kept his voice even. “Why did you have a therapist?”

“For therapy.”

Impatient, he pushed, “Why did you go to therapy?”

“Because Julie wouldn’t go unless I did.”

He gritted his teeth at her evasiveness. “Gwen.”

“Do you have to be so fucking nosy?”

“When the fucking subject’s you, yeah.”

Huffing, she hopped out of the SUV and slowly climbed the steps onto the porch. She felt Zander’s body heat, knew he was close behind her despite his not making a sound.

Aidan’s face softened in a way she couldn’t help but find creepy. “Gwen.” His eyes slid to Zander, who now stood at her side so close their arms touched. And the therapist clearly didn’t like it. “I’m Aidan Rogers. You are?”

“Why are you here?” Gwen asked, tone flat. Aidan would just love to get some sort of emotional reaction from her to evaluate it. She’d give him nothing.

“I wanted to check on you. Julie told me that you declined my offer of support and didn’t want to see me. I respect that—”

“Do you?” rumbled Zander. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here.” He didn’t know anything about this asshole, but he did know that the human felt something for Gwen. It was plain to see, and it rubbed Zander the wrong way. His wolf stalked forward and pressed against Zander’s skin, taking a good look at the male. Weak, the wolf decided. No threat. Still, the beast wanted him gone. So did Zander.

Aidan ignored him, keeping his attention on Gwen. “Could we speak privately?”

“No,” she said.

Aidan’s mouth flattened. “Julie mentioned that you have guests offering to help. Shifters. I’m guessing the man beside you is one of them.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Marlon asked, “Should you be sharing anything that Julie said to you, given it’s all supposed to be private between you and your patient?”

Turning to him, Aidan raised a placatory hand. “I just want to talk to Gwen. That’s all.”

“Here’s my problem, Aidan,” said Zander, face hard. “I don’t like the way you look at her. Not at all. Your voice changes, softens, when you say her name. Did you know that? No? Well, it does. And, yeah, I don’t like it.”

Twin spots of color stained Aidan’s cheeks. “She’s one of my patients. I’m fond of her.”

“No, she’s not,” said Marlon. “She hasn’t been one of your patients for a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean I no longer feel any concern for her.”

Zander cocked his head. “Do you always chase down patients who choose to end their sessions with you?”

Aidan gave a dismissive snort of laughter that was clearly false. “I’m hardly chasing her.”

“But you did at first,” said Marlon. “Isn’t that right?”

“At the time, I was worried,” Aidan defended. “She left therapy before we could make any real progress.”

“She left? I wonder why that was.” The sarcasm in Marlon’s voice made Aidan flush.

Done with the whole thing, Gwen said, “Go home, Aidan.” She didn’t need this shit. “And don’t come back.”

“I just want to help you,” he said, looking the image of what she believed was false concern. “Everything that’s happening with the Moores has to be tearing open some wounds.”

God, the guy was dramatic. “It’s not,” Gwen said truthfully.

“Witnessing violence, feeling unsafe, the pressure to keep secrets—it must be like reliving your childhood,” he insisted.

Gwen glared at Aidan, pissed that he’d pretty much exposed the bare bones of her childhood to Zander. The asshole was wrong. It wasn’t like reliving that time. This situation wasn’t about her; it was about Andie—an innocent female who’d been drugged, beaten, and terrorized.

“You want me to be this fragile person who needs your help to heal,” said Gwen. He’d even tried to convince her that she was. “Maybe you like the idea of being someone’s savior, and it makes you feel powerful, I don’t know. But I’m not fragile. I don’t need you. And I have no wish whatsoever to speak to you as a therapist or as a fellow human being.”

“In other words,” began Zander, closing in on him, “you aren’t welcome here, and you need to fucking go. You also need to stay the hell away.”

Gwen swallowed. The words had been spoken low and soft, and that seemed to make them all the more menacing.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Aidan challenged, voice shaky. “Rip my throat out?”

Zander smiled. “That would end the fun all too quickly.”

“Way too quickly,” agreed Marlon.

Aidan looked from one male to the other. “I only came here to help her.”

“You don’t want to help her,” said Zander. “I doubt that you ever did. No, I think you get off on making women dependent on you—and I think you should note that that is just plain fucked-up. You should also note that if you come back here, you won’t leave unharmed.”