Primal Bonds
Page 23
“Whatever.” Glory was furious, which added to her already maniacal driving. Andrea sank back in her seat, holding on and speculating the rest of the way home.
“Hey, Glory left her bag here,” Connor said from where he sat with Kim on the other side of the kitchen.
Sean flipped burgers on the griddle, cooking inside because it was too rainy to do it outside. Glory had stormed in, vented her spleen about being kicked out of her favorite bakery, and stormed out again. Andrea hadn’t said much to Sean, just looked concerned and presented Connor with a pint of dark-chocolate ice cream, his favorite.
“These aren’t Glory’s,” Kim said, rustling the tissue paper in the red bag. “Andrea told me what Glory bought.”
Connor helped Kim pull out the tissue paper and then the rest of the bag’s contents. Connor held up a pair of black briefs that had the word “Fine” printed on the back. “Did you buy these for Liam, Kim? I dare him to wear them.”
Sean froze, spatula in midair, grease dripping to the floor.
Kim’s blue eyes went bright with amusement. “Not me. I haven’t been shopping in a while. I think Andrea left these.”
“What for?” Connor stared at the briefs before his puzzled look gave way to a smile. “Oh, these are for, Sean.” He cackled with laughter as he shook out another pair that had a cupid’s bow and arrow on the crotch. “Hey, what do you think this means?”
Sean jerked back to the stove and slid his spatula under a burger before it burned to a crisp. “Bloody hell.”
Damn Andrea, she was as changeable as the sea. Staring him down, telling him she wanted her freedom one moment, buying him sexy underwear the next. Not giving it to him, but slyly leaving it where the rest of his family could find it. Either she was signaling her intentions or making him a laughingstock. Or both.
So she wanted to play, did she? Lupines were like that, playful about the most serious things. Look at Ellison, dressing up in his Stetson as the overboard Texan, or Glory in her spike heels and black leather. Cats had much more dignity.
But if Andrea wanted to challenge him, Sean was up for it.
Connor pulled out the last pair of briefs, blue and covered with smiley faces. “Try these on Sean. I have to see this.”
“Shut it, Connor. I—”
The scent came to him like a stinging slap. Sean dropped the spatula, and grease flew.
“Sean?” Kim’s concern cut into his alertness, but not far. He smelled woods, mint, and the acrid tinge of the otherworld.
“Son of a bitch.” He ran for the living room, grabbed his sword, and bolted out the back door.
Connor shouted after him. “Sean, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Stay inside,” Sean shouted back. “Guard Kim.”
Rain poured down as Sean ran, the cold casting fog in the green yards behind houses. Nothing was fenced in the back—the yards ran together under stands of towering trees, providing space for kids to run and play, although not today. The sun was setting, the fog darkening.
Sean found him in the middle of a circle of trees not ten yards from Glory’s house. The man was tall and unnaturally slim, his hair hanging down his back in a braid like twisted white silk. His face was clean shaven, unlined, perpetually young, and bore a cruel sharpness. He wore, not robes, but a mail shirt that looked to be made of beaten silver, leather leggings, boots, and a longbow across his back. Dressed for battle in a Lord of the Rings sort of way.
Sean unsheathed the sword and pointed it at the man’s chest, feeling a hell of a tingle as the sword touched the gate between the worlds. “What the f**k do you want?”
The man looked down at the blade in some disdain. “Feline. She summons me. Don’t interfere.”
“Who? No one here would be daft enough to summon a Fae ...”
He trailed off as the man’s cold black gaze moved to Glory’s house. Andrea was in there, alone, because Glory had gone off to find Dylan.
“Shit,” Sean whispered.
He ran for Glory’s house, finding the back door unlocked. He pounded through the unlighted kitchen and up the dark staircase to Andrea’s bedroom, bursting in to find Andrea on her bed in a fetal position, her eyes closed, her breathing rapid.
“Andrea, wake up. Wake up, love.”
She wouldn’t come out of it. Sean dropped the sword and got up on the bed with her, shaking her. “Wake up, now.”
Andrea’s eyelids fluttered. She looked at Sean in half-focused confusion, then awareness hit her, and she gasped. “Sean.”
Sean gathered her into his arms, kissing her damp forehead. “It’s all right, love. What were you dreaming?”
She shuddered. “The same. The same nightmare, except ...”
“There was someone there.”
Andrea nodded, her eyes full of fear. “I hear his voice sometimes. This time I could see him.”
“White-haired Fae bastard with ice-cold eyes?”
“Yes,” she said, then she jerked in his arms. “How the hell do you know?”
“I just saw him. He says you summoned him.”
“Saw him? What you mean, saw him?”
“He’s standing out in that circle of trees behind this house, large as life.”
Andrea gaped. “But I didn’t summon anyone. I never would.”
“Not on purpose. You did it through the dream.”
Her eyes darkened with fear. “Oh, Sean. Oh, crap.”
“Not your fault.” Sean rubbed his hand down her back. “Not your fault.”
She raised her head. “I need to see this Fae.”
“Not a good idea.”
Andrea wrenched herself from his grasp. “I don’t care. Stop protecting me. Show me where you saw him.”
“Andrea.”
She was strong and fast as she twisted away and to her feet. She was halfway to the dark window before Sean got off the bed, but instead of climbing out and running off, she stopped and pulled off her shirt.
Sean couldn’t move. He saw black lace cupping the generous curve of her br**sts before Andrea unhooked her bra with one hand and started peeling off her jeans with the other.
Her naked br**sts were firm and high, round peaches tipped with dusky red. Another slash of black lace enclosed her hips, and Sean lay transfixed as she stripped off the panties. Her slim waist flared to lush hips, with a wisp of black between her thighs. For one instant, Andrea and Sean looked at each other, she a woman bare for the man who wanted her. Then she shifted.
“Hey, Glory left her bag here,” Connor said from where he sat with Kim on the other side of the kitchen.
Sean flipped burgers on the griddle, cooking inside because it was too rainy to do it outside. Glory had stormed in, vented her spleen about being kicked out of her favorite bakery, and stormed out again. Andrea hadn’t said much to Sean, just looked concerned and presented Connor with a pint of dark-chocolate ice cream, his favorite.
“These aren’t Glory’s,” Kim said, rustling the tissue paper in the red bag. “Andrea told me what Glory bought.”
Connor helped Kim pull out the tissue paper and then the rest of the bag’s contents. Connor held up a pair of black briefs that had the word “Fine” printed on the back. “Did you buy these for Liam, Kim? I dare him to wear them.”
Sean froze, spatula in midair, grease dripping to the floor.
Kim’s blue eyes went bright with amusement. “Not me. I haven’t been shopping in a while. I think Andrea left these.”
“What for?” Connor stared at the briefs before his puzzled look gave way to a smile. “Oh, these are for, Sean.” He cackled with laughter as he shook out another pair that had a cupid’s bow and arrow on the crotch. “Hey, what do you think this means?”
Sean jerked back to the stove and slid his spatula under a burger before it burned to a crisp. “Bloody hell.”
Damn Andrea, she was as changeable as the sea. Staring him down, telling him she wanted her freedom one moment, buying him sexy underwear the next. Not giving it to him, but slyly leaving it where the rest of his family could find it. Either she was signaling her intentions or making him a laughingstock. Or both.
So she wanted to play, did she? Lupines were like that, playful about the most serious things. Look at Ellison, dressing up in his Stetson as the overboard Texan, or Glory in her spike heels and black leather. Cats had much more dignity.
But if Andrea wanted to challenge him, Sean was up for it.
Connor pulled out the last pair of briefs, blue and covered with smiley faces. “Try these on Sean. I have to see this.”
“Shut it, Connor. I—”
The scent came to him like a stinging slap. Sean dropped the spatula, and grease flew.
“Sean?” Kim’s concern cut into his alertness, but not far. He smelled woods, mint, and the acrid tinge of the otherworld.
“Son of a bitch.” He ran for the living room, grabbed his sword, and bolted out the back door.
Connor shouted after him. “Sean, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Stay inside,” Sean shouted back. “Guard Kim.”
Rain poured down as Sean ran, the cold casting fog in the green yards behind houses. Nothing was fenced in the back—the yards ran together under stands of towering trees, providing space for kids to run and play, although not today. The sun was setting, the fog darkening.
Sean found him in the middle of a circle of trees not ten yards from Glory’s house. The man was tall and unnaturally slim, his hair hanging down his back in a braid like twisted white silk. His face was clean shaven, unlined, perpetually young, and bore a cruel sharpness. He wore, not robes, but a mail shirt that looked to be made of beaten silver, leather leggings, boots, and a longbow across his back. Dressed for battle in a Lord of the Rings sort of way.
Sean unsheathed the sword and pointed it at the man’s chest, feeling a hell of a tingle as the sword touched the gate between the worlds. “What the f**k do you want?”
The man looked down at the blade in some disdain. “Feline. She summons me. Don’t interfere.”
“Who? No one here would be daft enough to summon a Fae ...”
He trailed off as the man’s cold black gaze moved to Glory’s house. Andrea was in there, alone, because Glory had gone off to find Dylan.
“Shit,” Sean whispered.
He ran for Glory’s house, finding the back door unlocked. He pounded through the unlighted kitchen and up the dark staircase to Andrea’s bedroom, bursting in to find Andrea on her bed in a fetal position, her eyes closed, her breathing rapid.
“Andrea, wake up. Wake up, love.”
She wouldn’t come out of it. Sean dropped the sword and got up on the bed with her, shaking her. “Wake up, now.”
Andrea’s eyelids fluttered. She looked at Sean in half-focused confusion, then awareness hit her, and she gasped. “Sean.”
Sean gathered her into his arms, kissing her damp forehead. “It’s all right, love. What were you dreaming?”
She shuddered. “The same. The same nightmare, except ...”
“There was someone there.”
Andrea nodded, her eyes full of fear. “I hear his voice sometimes. This time I could see him.”
“White-haired Fae bastard with ice-cold eyes?”
“Yes,” she said, then she jerked in his arms. “How the hell do you know?”
“I just saw him. He says you summoned him.”
“Saw him? What you mean, saw him?”
“He’s standing out in that circle of trees behind this house, large as life.”
Andrea gaped. “But I didn’t summon anyone. I never would.”
“Not on purpose. You did it through the dream.”
Her eyes darkened with fear. “Oh, Sean. Oh, crap.”
“Not your fault.” Sean rubbed his hand down her back. “Not your fault.”
She raised her head. “I need to see this Fae.”
“Not a good idea.”
Andrea wrenched herself from his grasp. “I don’t care. Stop protecting me. Show me where you saw him.”
“Andrea.”
She was strong and fast as she twisted away and to her feet. She was halfway to the dark window before Sean got off the bed, but instead of climbing out and running off, she stopped and pulled off her shirt.
Sean couldn’t move. He saw black lace cupping the generous curve of her br**sts before Andrea unhooked her bra with one hand and started peeling off her jeans with the other.
Her naked br**sts were firm and high, round peaches tipped with dusky red. Another slash of black lace enclosed her hips, and Sean lay transfixed as she stripped off the panties. Her slim waist flared to lush hips, with a wisp of black between her thighs. For one instant, Andrea and Sean looked at each other, she a woman bare for the man who wanted her. Then she shifted.
