Not even fronting, Sam stomped down the hall toward the kitchen, a giggling Clara trailing after her. Hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her Oregon State ball cap pulled low over her forehead, and wearing her beloved flannel shirt and jeans combo, along with her heavy hiking boots, Sam was on a mission. Well, multiple missions.

First, get more coffee.

Second, drink more coffee.

Third, plot elaborate and painful retribution for Mr. Love 'Em and Leave 'Em Leon.

Four… Oooh, what's that smell?

Catching the scent of something absolutely, mouth-wateringly delicious and almost certainly to go straight to her hips, Sam followed her nose to the kitchen. Pushing open the swinging door, she staggered nose-first toward Bertie, who was pulling a rack of his Super-Secret Recipe Cinnamon Rolls from the massive oven.

Seeing a zombie Sammy make her way through the bustling staff, Bertie gave her a large grin and waved her over. She ignored the glances she received from some of the weekend staff, who hadn't gotten used to Sam's presence in the kitchens yet, but a single pointed look from Bertie cleared a path between her and her objective.

Pointing a huge, blunt finger at the stool near his station, Bertie told her, "Sit. Eat. I'll bring you a plate and some coffee."

The beatific smile that graced Sam's still sleepy face brought a slight flush of pleasure to the big man's face. Bertie brought her a fresh cinnamon roll and a large mug of coffee, extra strong, with cream and sugar. "Drink up, wake up, then you can tell me why you look like you're about to eat someone's face off."

Sam took a few cautious sips of her steaming hot coffee, a small bite of her cinnamon roll, and another larger sip of coffee before she tilted her head way back to look up at the looming behemoth. She opened her mouth to speak, paused, held up a finger, and took another swallow of coffee before speaking in a calm, even voice.

"Because after being swept off my feet, then well-and-thoroughly...well, you know...complete with the whole magical fairy lightshow shebang...heh, she got banged all right," Sam couldn't help the chortle, but quickly cleared her throat as righteous anger once more blazed through her. "I woke up this morning, and he ghosted! Gone! No note, no word, not even a text message. He's a..."

Sam trailed off, groping for just the right insult. She noticed she had been cussing a lot more since first meeting that arrogant son-of-a...no, she couldn't use that one, since his mother was a Sidhe and not a werewolf, or werecanine, or whatever. “The Bastard” was already “The Bastard,” so she couldn't use that one either.

Bertie waited patiently while Clara made herself comfortable with her own purloined cinnamon roll and cup of coffee, giggling quietly to herself as she watched Sam's expressive face while the redhead pondered the conundrum.

Jerk was too tame a word. Dick and prick both brought to mind that certain part of his anatomy that she had fallen in love with...Sam blinked.

"Holy fuck," Sam whispered, turning shocked eyes up at Bertie. "I'm in love with him. When the Hell did that happen?"

Clara patted Sam's shoulder. "There, there, sweetie. It was bound to happen. Even if he is..." Clara began counting her brother's flaws on her fingers, "Arrogant, inconsiderate, hot-headed, condescending, bossy, more than a little vain, can be a total manslut, and did I mention bossy, because he totally has that whole big brother syndrome thing going on..."

That earned a weak chuckle from Sam, who was still looking rather pale—even for her.

"But," Clara continued, "he's also incredibly sweet, loyal to those few he loves, generous to a fault, and from the way he's been stalking you this last week? I'd say the boy has it bad!"

Sam reached up and partially tugged down the left side of her hoodie, showing the freckled flesh and the writhing mark on her chest, "That's because of the whole anam cara stuff. He doesn't have a choice, it's just magic making him want me."

Bertie cleared his throat—a rather grating sound as it sounded like grinding gravel—drawing Sam's and Clara's attentions. With a short shake of his head, Bertie said, "That's not quite how it works. Yes, Fate has guided you two together, but it's a choice you two make on how the relationship forms. You will always have an impact on one another's lives—you both already have, even if neither of you may have realized it—but, whether it's as friends, lovers, or even as enemies, that is the choice you both must make. Relationships aren't magic, even with our kind, no mystically perfect happy ending is guaranteed."

Clara laughed aloud at that. "Oh man, listen to him! You know Beauty and the Beast? That really happened. I mean, their names weren't really Beast or Beauty. He wasn't really a prince, I mean a French prince at the time of the French Revolution? Yeah, that wouldn't have ended well. Anyways, he was a shifter who pissed off an Unseelie for not wanting to sleep with her skank ass, got cursed for like centuries and terrorized France."

Really getting into her story, Clara was waving her hands energetically, her face alight as Bertie and Sam watched aghast. "Finally, a cousin of ours had had enough, so she went to confront the Beast, and BAM! Anam cara'd! I mean, a Leon with a wolf? It was all the scandal at the time, let me tell you. Anywho, she managed to break the curse, since all Sidhe magic is based on oaths, you know? So every curse has an exit clause, and this cousin of ours might have had furry tendencies, if you know what I mean. Yeah, she and the beast made with the mating, and boom, curse broken!"

Blinking, Sam said slowly, almost afraid of the answer, "That sounds like a happy ending."

Shaking her head, Clara said, "Alas, like I said, cousin was into furries, and when the curse was broken, the beast had been entirely stripped of his shifting ability and made Mortal. He was a bit bitter about that and swore off the Fae, supernaturals, and everything. Left our cousin knocked up and went and became a hunter! Hunting down shifters, fae, witches, whatever crossed he could find—and as a former shifter, he knew quite a bit. Hell, that's why so many of our kind left France, just in time, too, since the Revolution happened not long after that. More than that, though, he started a new family, raising his little brats to also be hunters. Now, they're one of the largest hunter families in Europe, but let me tell you, they really hate that fairy tale, and just how popular it's become!" Clara was positively gleeful at that last bit.

"What happened to your cousin?" Sam was afraid to know, but she had to.

Clara sighed and shook her head, "Rosalind retreated to an Otherworld, where the hunters can't find her. As for her son, my cousin is a Watcher." Seeing Sam's questioning look, Clara clarified, "The Watchers are a small group that work outside the established, individual protection organizations, like the Wild Hunt for the Sidhe and Fae. The Shadow Pack polices the shifters, the Grimalkin the witches, and the Cavalerii Sumbru the vampires. The Watchers owe allegiance to no one, except the High Council, who technically oversees all of us here in North America."

"Politics," Bertie snorted. "Unimportant. The moral is, anam cara, soulmates, true mates, fated mates, whatever you want to call it, does not mean magically forced to do anything. The Fates have merely woven your paths together, and what path you choose to take is ultimately your choice."

Just then, the door from the restaurant swung open, and over the din of the kitchen staff still preparing breakfast for the few guests staying, she heard Rik's voice. Jumping from her chair, she darted over to covertly peek out the door.

Seated with his back toward the kitchen door, Rik was having an animated discussion with an older couple. Sam's heart sped up, her attention riveted on the flex of his shoulders and his broad back as Rik leaned over to point at something on a tablet between him and the older man.

"Oh, Mémé and Pépé," Clara exclaimed over Sam's head, causing the shorter woman to shriek and clutch her chest.

Quickly ducking down out of sight, Sam glared up the giggling blonde, who was waving at her family through the clear window of the door. "Your parents?" Sam hissed.

"Grandparents," Clara replied. "Come on, let's go introduce you!"

"Oh, nonononono!" Sam quickly darted out of Clara's reach, experience having taught her that Clara was all too willing to grab her arm and drag her willy-nilly. Hiding behind Bertie, Sam glared around the big man, "I'm definitely not ready for that! I'm still angry at Rik!"

Clara huffed dramatically, "Fine, be that way! But you're going to have to meet them soon."

Bertie, standing by the door now and looking out, spoke up, "Well, if you're not ready to meet them yet, you may want to head out then. Looks like Rik's heading this way." When he turned and saw Sam's panicked expression, Bertie pointed toward another door out of the kitchen.

"Clara, why don't you two go take the tunnels to the Village. People are already starting to arrive, and if anything I know is true in this world, it's that the Coffee Fairy has already opened shop."

Clara grabbed Sam's arm and quickly pushed the panicking redhead out the kitchen's rear entrance, toward the aforementioned tunnels before Sam could recover. When she did manage to regain her composure, it was only to breathe out in an awed whisper, "Coffee Fairy? There's a Coffee Fairy?"