In the space of a few seconds last night, Liam’s entire life had changed. He didn’t know what to do about it, or even how he felt about it. The turmoil of emotions and thoughts nauseated him.

He descended the stairs, scrubbing his hand through his wet hair. He’d showered twice, once last night with Kim while she washed his cuts, which had led to water all over the bathroom floor. There was something about bathrooms and Kim. The second time was this morning after he’d left the bed.

Dylan leaned on his elbows on the breakfast bar, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. Morning sunlight winked on his Collar.

“Did Fergus oust you yet?” Liam asked, as he headed for the coffeepot. They didn’t have a coffee-maker, not because it was forbidden to Shifters, but because they’d never taken to anything but coffee brewed right in the pot.

“Haven’t heard from him. I’m sure he’ll be along.”

Liam poured coffee. “Where have Sean and Connor got to?”

“I sent them off.”

“Why?”

“So we could talk.”

Liam took a sip and grimaced. “Sean must have made this.” Sean, terrific at the griddle, lousy at the brew-up.

“Fergus has to know.”

“That Sean made the damned coffee?”

“Liam.”

“Shit.”

Both men fell silent. Liam cradled his cup while Dylan pretended to read the newspaper. Liam had never heard Dylan come in last night; Glory must have been comforting him the way Kim had comforted Liam.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dylan asked without looking up.

“No, you’re fine. I don’t mind you reading the paper.” Liam stopped pretending. “You mean for good, don’t you? Why should you?”

“My own father died before we found out whether I could best him. Defeated males had two choices back then—be killed or cast out.”

“I know.”

Dylan turned a page. “I knew in my heart it would happen to me sooner or later. I didn’t think it would be last night.”

“We never finished the fight.”

“Good thing.” Dylan finally looked up at him. The man was much too calm. His eyes were watchful, but other than that, he rested against the counter, the cuts on his face already healing. “If it had been obvious that you’d bested me, Fergus would be up here demanding to fight you, to establish his dominance.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Glory.”

“You trust her then?”

Dylan gave him a thin smile. “I might have to move in with the woman. I thought it only fair that she knew why.”

“Damn it, Dad. You don’t have to move out. We’re not feral anymore. We don’t have to disembowel each other to make a point.”

“No, we’re too civilized for disemboweling,” Dylan said in a dry voice. “The choice is yours, Liam. I don’t mind going.”

“No.” Liam slammed his cup to the counter and it broke. Hot coffee spilled on his hands and spattered on his thighs. “I don’t want you going. Why the hell should you? You belong here.”

Dylan left his newspaper, caught Liam’s shoulders in his big hands. “It’s natural, son. It happens.”

“Screw that.”

Dylan pulled him close. Liam resisted the hug, wanting to push him away. All his life he’d felt protected and confident because Dylan and his strength was there. Even when Dylan had disappeared to grieve, his protection had permeated the walls of their castle, and Liam had known Dylan would return. He’d never doubted.

When they’d come to America, a land they’d never seen, and during the torture of taking the Collar, Dylan had been there. Dylan was the anchor in the madness of Liam’s life, in the chaos of the world.

Last night, the moment Liam’s wildcat had known he could destroy Dylan anytime he wanted to, that world had changed. Gone was the ground beneath Liam’s feet, the tie to sanity. The abyss howled at him, and now he’d have to face it alone.

Liam jerked away. He and Dylan were the same height; he could look his father straight in the eye. “Don’t tell Fergus. Not yet. I don’t want him coming after you.”

Dylan nodded, and Liam tamped down his anger with difficulty. Primal rage made him want Fergus in front of him, right now. Liam would make the man eat his f**king whip.

“Is this the true reason you never would fight Fergus?” Liam asked. “Because you knew once you’d bested him, I’d be compelled to best you?”

Dylan waited a silent moment, then nodded.

The enormity of the knowledge was enough to make Liam sick. He had always thought Dylan held back from challenging Fergus to keep the peace in Shiftertown, because living life and raising the children were more important than fights for dominance. Liam had agreed, believed it with all his heart. Now Dylan was confessing that part of the reason he’d kept himself from fighting Fergus was simple fear.

When a clan leader died, usually the second in line stepped into his place without fuss, unless a Shifter close to the second knew that he could vie for leadership. Other Shifters down the line might fight among themselves to move up a place or two, and a series of fights could happen until the pecking order settled again. Typically the hierarchy didn’t change, but sometimes a young Shifter grew more dominant or an older Shifter weakened and moved down. Dylan had realized that Liam’s natural dominance would emerge the instant Fergus was gone, that Liam wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from challenging his father.