“I’m hoping you don’t mean a female friend. I don’t need Glory exploding while I’m living in her house. I’m not getting much sleep as it is.”

Dylan looked surprised. “Glory told me to go. Why would she care?”

“She didn’t mean for you to be running to the next woman on your list. You know that.”

Dylan gave him a tight smile. “You flatter me if you think I have a list.” He signaled to Andrea, who nodded and turned to the bartender. “Kim is kindly letting me stay in her house, if you must know.”

Kim’s family had left her a big house north of Lake Austin near Mount Bonnell, and though Kim now spent all her time in Shiftertown, she still owned the house, which was large and posh.

“Cushy crash space,” Sean said. “With cable. Now I envy you. Kim’s a sweetheart.”

“I had to promise not to get cat hair on the sofa,” Dylan said.

“That’s our Kim. What do her neighbors think?”

“Her neighbors don’t know I’m there.”

They wouldn’t, not if he didn’t want them to. Dylan could be the master of stealth.

Andrea floated over with a bottle of Guinness. She smiled at Dylan as she set down the bottle, her dark hair dancing across her cheeks. Sean wanted to pull her down, kiss her red lips, wrap his arms around her, and get down to serious business.

Andrea didn’t even look at Sean. “That beer’s on me,” she said to Dylan. “Nice to see you again.” She deliberately ignored Sean as she sashayed away.

“Trouble in paradise?” Dylan asked with a glint of humor.

Sean growled. “Goddess, Dad, she is the most bloody stubborn, smart-assed, frustrating female I’ve ever met. Did I mention stubborn?”

Dylan’s smile took on a touch of sadness. “She’s like your mother. Niamh had that same trick of looking at me as though she didn’t give a damn about anything I said until I apologized—for whatever it was I’d done to piss her off that time. If I didn’t know what I’d done, that just made things worse.”

“Aye, I remember. And, aye, I’m thinking Andrea’s the same way.”

Across the room, Ellison started up the jukebox with a rocking country tune. Ellison liked all music, as long as it was country and the singer was from Texas.

Dylan leaned across the table to Sean. “Where did you put the sword?”

“Liam’s office, like always. Why?”

“Liam’s in there?”

Sean glanced around. The office door was closed, and Liam hadn’t emerged. “He is.”

“If he’s not back there to watch it, I don’t want it out of your sight.”

“Why, Dad? What’s up?”

“They had plans to steal it,” Dylan said around blare of the music. “Callum and his Feline faction. That’s interesting, don’t you think?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sean stared. “Why the hell should they want the Sword of the Guardian? It’s not like anyone can just pick it up and use it.”

Dylan shrugged as he lifted his beer. “Who knows? To intimidate you, our clan ... this entire Shiftertown, maybe. If Shifters think their souls are in peril because you lost the sword, will they be trusting you?”

“Are they crazy?”

Sean recalled the night he’d been chosen as Guardian, when he’d been barely past cub age. He remembered shivering on a windswept Irish promontory under January moonlight, while the dead body of the previous Guardian lay on the ground, the naked sword across his chest. Sean remembered his dismay as white-hot Goddess magic turned his own blood to fire, his absolute knowledge that he would be the one to lift the sword and drive it into the former Guardian’s heart. He’d been terrified that night, Dylan and Niamh so proud.

“Most Shifters know that the Guardian has to be chosen,” Dylan was saying. “But if the Guardian isn’t strong enough to protect the sword, how quickly will they choose a new Guardian, or kill the old one?”

“Bloody hell, Dad. I’m flattered that Callum and his friends thought I had so much power. But the sword is a sacred relic. They’d have messed with that?”

“I’m thinking they would have.”

Sean knew full well that some Shifters now believed they could get to the Summerland without the Guardian to turn the body to dust and release the soul. The sword had been forged for the purpose of keeping Fae from trapping or torturing Shifter souls, but the Fae were no longer around, and having the soul trapped was not a likely danger.

Then again, Sean also knew that superstition died hard. Shifters might say they didn’t believe they still needed a magic sword, but Guardians had been around for centuries. Beliefs got lodged deep inside and were not easily pried out.

“Would it scare you, Dad?” he asked out of curiosity. “If the Guardian wasn’t around when your time came?”

Dylan thought as he took another drink. “It’s something we grow up with, the cycle of life: birth, mating, cubs, then the Guardian’s sword at the end. It’s a relief, knowing that you won’t be ending alone, because the Guardian will be there to help you to the Summerland. There’s no evidence we need a Guardian anymore, but why take the chance?”

Sean nodded. “I think that too. I’m betting every Shifter in this bar does.”

“So you see how powerful a Sword of the Guardian would be in the wrong hands? Keep yours safe.”

Sean needed to see the sword now, to know that it still leaned against the wall in Liam’s office with his big brother keeping an eye on it. He glanced toward the office door, but his gaze was arrested halfway there.

Andrea had moved in front of the jukebox, and now she started to dance. A hip swinging, undulating, sexy, gyrating dance. The gaze of every unmated male—Shifter and human alike—swiveled and fixed on her. Ellison whooped and started swaying behind her, beer held high, his body nearly touching hers.

A growl tore from Sean’s throat. Dylan rescued Sean’s beer as Sean sprang from the booth and hurtled across the room to Ellison. Sean’s fingers turned to claws as he latched onto Ellison’s shoulder and jerked him away from Andrea.

Ellison’s Lupine eyes flashed gray white. “Hold on there now, my old friend. We were just dancing.”

“Stay away from her.” Sean’s voice was grating, throat clogged with rage.