Ronan dragged a cover over him. "If he shifts back in his sleep, he'll get cold," he explained. He lingered to rest his large hand on Olaf's shoulder.

Under his touch, Olaf took a deep breath, and then shifted effortlessly back to the small boy with blue-streaked blond hair. He opened his eyes. "Lizbeth?"

"I'm right here." Elizabeth leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Good night, Olaf."

Olaf caught her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. "Stay."

"She's got to go to bed, Olaf," Ronan said. "She's tired."

Olaf's eyes took on a glint of panic Elizabeth had sometimes seen in Mabel's when Mabel had been little. Mabel's greatest terror had been that she'd go to sleep and wake up alone, Elizabeth gone, never to be found again. Olaf, Ronan had said, had seen his parents killed. That terror had come true for him.

"No," Olaf said. "Stay."

"It's all right." Elizabeth sat down on the large bed, Olaf not letting go of her hand. "I don't mind. He's scared."

"He has to learn he'll be all right," Ronan said.

Olaf's grip tightened even more. He would have wrestler strength when he grew up, greater maybe even than Ronan's.

"Does he have to learn tonight? I don't mind."

Ronan stood over them, hands on hips, a frustrated parent. "All right, all right. But only tonight."

Elizabeth lay down on the bed behind Olaf and pulled the cover over her, kicking her loose shoes to the floor. Olaf snuggled back against her and looked up at Ronan.

"Stay too," he said.

Ronan heaved a sigh. "Becks is spoiling you. Fine, big guy. We'll both stay."

He collapsed onto Scott's empty bed, which creaked under his weight, then shucked his belt and shoes and pulled quilts over his big body.

Olaf fell asleep quickly, but Elizabeth remained awake next to him, still feeling the imprint of Ronan's kiss. Her life was changing dramatically as she watched, and she needed to make decisions.

Ronan, up most of the night before, all day at the store, and then again tonight, fell asleep quickly. He snored. Rebecca hadn't been kidding. Not snorting wet-sounding snores, but deep, steady ones, his breath going all the way to the bottom of his lungs and coming all the way out again.

The sound didn't bother Elizabeth. It was comforting. A huge, strong man slept near her, on hand to defend her. Ronan was a swift, silent killer, and a protector, and beneath all that, he had a heart of vast generosity. Elizabeth in the past had been duped by people who'd pretended to be kind, but Ronan was kind while pretending not to be.

Elizabeth drifted off to sleep so gradually she didn't know she was doing it, but all through the night, she heard the solidity of Ronan's snores, and knew she was guarded.

*** *** ***

Sundays, Elizabeth always closed the store but went to work in the back, getting ready for the week to come. Ronan went in with her, and Ellison and Spike came to fix the bear-shaped hole in her door.

Rebecca had returned while Ronan and Elizabeth breakfasted with the ravenous Olaf, Rebecca looking tired but pleased with herself. She was wearing a "Keep Austin Weird" T-shirt that hadn't been on her when she left.

"Good shopping trip, I take it?" Elizabeth said, licking honey from her fork.

"Oh, yeah." Rebecca yawned, stretched, and went upstairs to shower.

Scott came home before Elizabeth and Ronan left, as did Cherie and Mabel. Cherie and Mabel were chipper; Scott mumbled something and shuffled upstairs to his bedroom.

Olaf wanted to see the store, but Elizabeth, uncertain that Marquez or his friends wouldn't return, said no. Olaf was disappointed, but he agreed, with surprising cheerfulness, to wait until Ronan thought it safe.

"He trusts you," Elizabeth said as she and Ronan headed out for Ronan's motorcycle.

"Olaf? Mostly. He just gets scared at night. You sleep okay?"

"Yes." She had. In spite of the late night and early start, Elizabeth felt refreshed. In the room with Olaf and Ronan, she'd let herself completely relax for the first time in . . . well, forever.

Spike and Ellison were waiting outside the store when they arrived. Ellison lounged on the hood of his pickup, a long, tall Texan if Elizabeth ever saw one, though Ronan had told her he'd come here from Colorado.

Spike looked pure urban biker. He leaned against the wall outside the store, skin well inked, sunglasses against the glare, and motorcycle boots and grease-stained jeans to Ellison's cowboy boots. This morning, though, one side of his face was purple and black, and when he took off his sunglasses, his left eye definitely sported a shiner.

"What happened to you?" Elizabeth asked.

"Fight club." Spike shrugged tight shoulders. "Don't tell Liam."

Elizabeth wanted to ask, but other store owners were looking out their doors at the Shifters. Elizabeth got the store unlocked and them inside as quickly as she could.

"Fight club?" she asked Ronan as Ellison and Spike carried toolboxes to the torn-up wall. The two Shifters started pondering how to fix it in the universal male way of standing back and staring at it.

Ronan didn't look very surprised at her question. "Liam gets pissed off, because he says it's glorified c**k fighting, and he's right. But he doesn't stop Shifters going--the fights allow us to let off steam. Fight clubs are privately arranged bouts between Shifters, no holds barred. Not exactly legal, but humans bet on us, and we give them a good show, so there's a lot of looking the other way."

"Like gladiators." Elizabeth's gaze went to the Collar snug against Ronan's big neck, the Celtic knot at his throat. "Don't your Collars stop you?"

"Oh, they go off. Believe me. It evens the field, Shifter against Shifter. Some are better than others at fighting through the pain. Spike's one of the favorites. Trust me, the other guy will look worse."

Elizabeth stared at him. "You have to be crazy. I've seen underground boxing and mixed martial arts meets, and they're brutal. Shifter ones have to be even more brutal."

"They can be. But Shifters are tough, Elizabeth. And sometimes we have to fight, or we go a little nuts. Humans think they suppress our fighting instincts with the Collars, but the instincts don't go away. Except that now, we have no natural outlet. So Liam pretends he doesn't see a dozen Shifters disappear at night and come back bruised and Collar-wasted. Even Scott's been going lately."