Andrea let out her breath as she scooped coffee grounds into the top of the pot. “I understand. I saw what my mother’s death did to my stepfather.” Grief could be a terrible thing. Her stepfather hadn’t truly recovered from it, and it had been more than thirty-five years.

“My mother was a little bit like Glory,” Sean said. “Very in your face. Kind of like you.” The corners of his mouth quirked in a tight smile. “I think if Glory weren’t so like my mum, it wouldn’t be so hard for Dad. But he’s not sure he can give himself to Glory, not sure he has a right to. He’s a complicated man.”

“Whereas you are so simple.” Andrea plugged in the pot and waited impatiently for the heavenly sound of percolation. Shifters could have automatic-drip coffeemakers, but Andrea thought it tasted better in an old-fashioned pot anyway. It was satisfying to watch the coffee burble into the little glass knob on the top of the pot as the water boiled. And the scent was glorious.

“I am simple,” Sean said. “I wait for people to die so I can send them to the Summerland. I fill in the time between that messing with my computer and hoping to mate before I die myself.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with sentiment.” Andrea faced him across the counter. He really had no idea that he was one of the most complicated and changeable males she’d ever met. One minute he was growling and controlling, the next so protective she thought she’d never feel in danger again, the next grieving for his dead brother and feeling compassion for his father. Which one was the real Sean Morrissey? Answer, all of them. Sure, Sean, real simple.

“What were you doing in Colorado anyway?” she asked him. “How did you pull off flying there? Shifters aren’t allowed on planes.”

“Not being allowed and not doing it are two different things, love. I have human friends who own airplanes.”

“Oh, now you tell me after my bus journey across three states.”

Sean had the gall to smile. “I was in a hurry.”

“Are you going to share why you went there?”

“To ask your stepdad about your Fae father. I wanted to know everything your mother said about him, things you were too young to remember, and I wanted to be face-to-face with him when I asked it.”

And now she had Sean the intelligence gatherer, who probed all the way to the root of the problem instead of just baring his teeth at it.

“You saw my dad?” Andrea’s eyes prickled with tears. “How is he?”

His tone gentled. “He’s fine, lass, though he’s missing you. And he was happy to talk about your mum. Seemed like he was glad to have someone to talk about her with.”

The tears threatened to spill out, and Andrea blinked them back. “I’m so glad you two got along.”

“We did. You were right about your stepdad. He’s a fine man, and brave for his rank in the pack. He’s relieved that you’re here, and safe, and happy. He sent his love.”

Oh, damn you, Sean Morrissey. Andrea was trying to stay angry at him for being rabidly overprotective, and suddenly he moved back to being the Sean who knew exactly what Andrea needed. He’d gone not only to ask about her Fae father, but to bring back reassurance that Andrea’s stepfather was well and that Terry didn’t blame Andrea for what she’d done.

“I also saw Jared,” Sean said.

“You did?” She smiled. “I’m kind of sorry I missed that.”

“He’s still pretty pissed off, especially since there are no other unmated females of age in your old Shiftertown. But don’t worry, love. He’ll not do a bloody thing to you ever again, not unless he wants to challenge me. I almost hope he does, so I can wipe the floor with his sorry ass.”

Sean’s protectiveness was rising again, but Andrea couldn’t help but feel grateful for all he’d done. Being harassed and stalked wasn’t something a woman just got over. Being stalked meant waking up every morning wondering what terrible thing would happen next, looking over your shoulder with every step, falling asleep wondering whether you were safe to do so. Because of Sean, Andrea could now wake up without fear.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked.

“Looking after you?” Sean sounded surprised. “I mate-claimed you. I take care of you now. I told you that when I first met you.”

“I didn’t mean that, exactly.” She’d meant the easy way Sean disarmed her, the way he turned what made her angry into something wonderful he’d done for her. The way he was making Andrea care more and more about him. “And anyway, it’s only a claim, not an official mating. You’re not obligated to take care of me, yet.”

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “All of that is shite, and you know it. We follow the rituals of mate-claim and mate blessing because we’d just give ourselves to the frenzy if we didn’t, no holding back. We’d be ferals, bloody barbarians.” Sean leaned toward her, the scent of musk and leather reaching her, the look in his eyes heating her blood. “I’m very close to the frenzy now, love, and I’m not going to be able to wait for coffee.”

“It is kind of warm in here, isn’t it? Maybe you’re just flushed.”

Sean’s smile went sinful. “It’s bloody freezing in here. You’re feeling the frenzy too, aren’t you, love? Maybe a touch?”

More than a touch. Damn him.

Sean came around the counter. Andrea held her ground as he took a stance behind her, like he’d done in Liam’s house, his tall body warming her all the way down. He leaned to her, his body heat like a blanket, and she felt his teeth on her neck. “You’re the one who was buying me all the underwear,” he murmured into her skin. “Want to guess which pair I’m wearing?”