“This isn’t the wild. This is Shiftertown, in the twenty-first century. And I’m tired of Shifter males trying to bully me.”

Andrea started stalking away again, and in her heels, she could work up a really good stalk. Sean, though, could stride along there with her.

“Not bully, love. Protect. Jared deserves to die for trying to keep you submissive, trapped, and vulnerable. That’s not how we cherish a mate.”

“You are the most idealistic male I’ve ever met.”

Sean slid his warm, strong hand into hers. “Someone has to be.”

“I’m not giving up my job, Sean.”

“Mmm.”

He stopped arguing but didn’t agree either. Andrea clenched her jaw even as she twined her fingers through his strong ones. They’d argue some more later, she knew that, but as long as they were fighting it out, that meant Sean hadn’t won yet.

That night Andrea had the dream again. The threads that sought to bind her glittered evilly, the metallic cords tightening to crush her.

Andrea.

It wasn’t Sean’s voice this time. She had no idea who it was, and terror kept her from placing it, kept her from thinking.

Fight it, Andrea. Get free.

“I’m trying!” she shouted.

The threads choked her, suffocated her. Incoherent screams left her throat, and then something else bound her, iron bands, bigger, stronger, thicker than the threads. She clawed at them, dove upward from a well of sleep to find Sean in bed with her, his strong arms hard around her.

“Hush now,” he murmured. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

Part of her wanted to struggle away, to yell at him. But terror drowned her, and she welcomed the warm, safe haven Sean offered.

Her body relaxed as he kissed her hair and drew her back against him. Andrea’s eyes closed as he continued to cradle her, and she drifted into exhausted slumber.

When morning light touched Andrea’s face, she sat up to find Sean out of bed and moving to the window, though the mattress still held his warmth. He wore only black briefs and a white T-shirt, the clothing molding to his body. A beautiful sight to wake up to.

“Sean.”

Sean turned. “I didn’t mean to wake you, love.”

Andrea hugged the pillow he’d slept on to her chest. “You know, I’ve never yet seen your wildcat.”

Sean studied her a moment, hands on hips, then he grinned. The smile warmed every part of her, and so did him tugging the T-shirt off over his head. His wide chest was dusted with dark hair, tight muscles moving under liquid dark skin. Sean obviously spent his summers shirtless in the sun.

Looking away was out of the question. Especially not when his hand went to his waistband, and the briefs slid down.

Strong, tanned legs. Narrow hips. A phallus thick with desire, rising from a dark thatch.

Yep, I was right. Black-haired all the way down.

Andrea saw this only briefly before Sean’s limbs distorted with his shift. Claws sprouted on his hands and feet, which almost instantly turned into paws. His face elongated into a feline’s, eyes becoming white blue, lips lifting from a row of pointed teeth. He dropped to all fours and shook out a lion’s mane that grew down past his huge shoulders. It too was black.

Growling, Sean started for her. His paws were gigantic, his tail long, his eyes in his broad face light blue. Sean came for the bed, his intent clear.

Andrea held up her hands. “Don’t you dare jump up here. Glory will never let me hear the end of it if you break the bed.”

Sean put his forepaws on the mattress. Andrea found herself on her back, covered in warm fur and hot wildcat breath. His mane ticked.

Sean gave her face one long lick.

“Cat spit. Yuck.”

Sean licked her again, thoroughly wetting every inch of her face. He moved to her neck, then her chest, burrowing into the top of her pajamas.

“Sean Morrissey, you stop that.” Laughing, she shoved at him, but she couldn’t budge him an inch.

His growls sounded smug, the look in his eyes satisfied. He nuzzled her with his huge velvet nose, which was like being nudged by a thousand-pound kitten.

“Damned Feline.” Andrea stroked his face, reveling in the warmth of Sean’s fur, the wiry heat of his mane. She’d never touched a Feline Shifter before, and their fur was different from wolves’. Softer, less shaggy, more like hot silk. She pressed a kiss between Sean’s eyes, and he closed them, rumbling in his belly. Purring.

“Are you staying for breakfast?” Andrea asked him. “Should I tell your dad to make enough coffee for you? Or maybe pour out a bowl of milk?”

The purr turned to another growl. Sean backed off the bed, shook himself like the cat he was, and strolled to the window.

He was a beautiful beast. Each Feline’s coat was different, and Sean’s was lionlike, tawny with a hint of the broken spots of the jaguar. He gave her a look over his shoulder, one that said he knew that she liked what she saw. Conceited shit. Sean climbed over the windowsill and out onto the porch roof.

Andrea slid out of bed and went to the window in time to see him crouch on the edge of Glory’s porch roof. She bit her lip, then let out her breath as he leapt gracefully across the space of the yard between the houses and landed on the Morrissey porch roof.

On his feet, of course. Sean sent her another look over his shoulder before he climbed into the open window to his own bedroom.

Andrea closed the window on the cold air. She’d been a little worried that she’d find Sean repugnant in his Feline form, but no. He didn’t repel her at all. He was gorgeous in any form he wore.