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side.
    When Bree—and the police—had proved the woman a fraud, Nadine hadn’t been angry with the psychic. Talking to Remy had comforted her, she’d said. Just because that psychic had been bogus didn’t mean the supernatural didn’t exist. And anyway, didn’t Bree have a thing for people who could turn into animals?
    Bree had conceded the point, but even so, tried to discourage her from believing Remy was trying to communicate with them. She wondered if her mom had put these things up here, to build the fiction that Remy was looking out for them. Perhaps she’d “prove” it and feel better.
    But Remy was gone, as much as Bree hated to keep saying it. They needed to learn to accept it, and move on. Maybe then the pain would lessen—though Bree doubted it.
    Seamus came out of his silent stance and moved toward the boxes, looking like a fertility god of old with his well-muscled, bare torso, even with the bandages. Nadine started, as though she’d forgotten he was with them.
    “Do you want me to take the things downstairs?” Seamus offered. His voice was quiet, understanding.
    Nadine blinked, her eyes wet. Then she frowned and put on her usual no-nonsense expression, which she did when she needed to pull herself back to the present. “You can’t be lifting boxes after you’ve been shot.” She looked him up and down. “Though you seem a lot better. I guess Shifters really do heal fast.” She shook her head. “No. Let’s straighten up but leave everything here. I’m sure Remy put it here for a reason. If he comes back, maybe he’ll tell me why.”
    Bree exchanged a glance with Seamus, who gave her the slightest shake of head. It was an interesting day—or night—when a wild Shifter without a Collar who’d kidnapped Bree and was now hiding out with her made more sense than Bree’s messed-up life.
    “We can straighten it out tomorrow, Mom,” Bree said, trying to sound soothing. “I’ll make some tea, and then we’ll go back to bed.”
    Seamus had already started lifting the strewn papers and books and setting them neatly back into the boxes. Nadine must be tired, because she let him.
    “Good idea,” Nadine said, sounding weary. “A nice herbal tea, maybe with a little shot, so I’ll sleep nice and cozy.”
    Seamus finished and went down the ladder first. He didn’t use every rung; his lithe body moved quickly downward, sliding the last yard with his bare feet on either side of the ladder. He betrayed no awareness of his nimbleness—he was comfortable with his body, not showing off.
    He held the ladder as first Nadine then Bree descended. Seamus put his hands on Bree’s waist to lift her down the last few feet, his grip strong. Bree leaned into him, as she had when he’d touched her so tenderly, before her mother had interrupted. She hadn’t mistaken the need in his eyes then, and she didn’t mistake it now.
    Seamus’s hands compressed the slightest bit on her sides, a hidden caress. Bree drew a breath, trying not to like that so much.
    Seamus released her and turned away to carry the ladder downstairs. Bree watched his tight back, which was crisscrossed with scars, as he went down, hoisting the ladder as though it weighed nothing.
    Nadine snapped off the attic light. “Bree.”
    Bree jerked her gaze from Seamus as he disappeared through the door to the garage, where the ladder was stored. “What?”
    “He’s good looking.” Nadine appeared wrung out, but her voice was as steely as ever. “He’s sexy without knowing it, and you’re lonely. But he’s Shifter, and there’s something wrong with him, more than just the fact that he doesn’t have one of those Collars. He seems different from the other Shifters I’ve seen, and not only because of the Collar thing.”
    “I know.” Bree sighed. “All that. I know.”
    Nadine put a hand Bree’s shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, honey. You’ve done enough hurting for three women your age. In the morning, Seamus