Prologue
On the subject of settlements:
It is unlawful for any person, Paranormal or Human, to be denied housing based on their status.
Should a settlement arise where there is a delineation between Paranormal and Human populations, state and local laws apply to residents regardless of their address.
In the event of certain settlements where the population exceeds 100 Paranormals with a representative from each of the five main sects onsite (Shifter, Phantom, Vampire, Witch, and Othersider), a duly notarized Bonding office must be provided to ease the issuing of “Bonding Licenses” and other duties not performed at the nearest Department of Paranormal Regulation (or D.P.R.).
— Ordinance 7304
Section VI
Part I
Colton
1
Colton Wolfe had a… a thing about witches.
Okay. That might be putting it a little mildly since he fucking hated them.
Was it rational? No. Probably not. But he was a paranormal. A wolf shifter, to be precise, an alpha-born who was more than happy to sit back and play the role of beta in his father’s motley pack of predatory shifters. Way he saw it, rational flew out the window long before Paras were forced to expose themselves to the human world.
Ants? He could handle them with one paw tied behind his back.
Corpses? Dayborns were harmless, and if a Nightwalker wanted to stalk him, Colt’s wolf was always game for a round of “hunt the meat”.
Phantoms? Shit, his best pal was a ghost who’d been murdered in the late 19th century. Phantoms were all right.
But witches?
No fucking way.
As far back as he could remember, there was something about the magic-users, the diamond fiends that just made his fur stand on end. When he was younger, it was tough to put his claw on the why of it, though the fact that his brute strength and, well, his claws couldn’t do shit against a powerful spell was probably up there.
And then Maddox got thrown in a Cage...
Now, three years after the accident that nearly killed Maddox and Evangeline, his brother’s mate, Colt had a pretty damn good reason to hate witches—and only part of it had to do with his suspicion that one particular witch was the cause behind Mad’s truck careening off the side of the mountain.
His whole life, Colt lived a very “us” vs. “them” kind of existence. For the most part, the “us” referred to shifters, specifically wolf, though he had an allowance for all of the other members of his pack. Once he got stuck with Dodge—and since the ghost had been haunting him since he was barely a pup, stuck was right—Colt sided with the phantoms. Hell, as long as a Para was proudly a Para, he was good.
Witches, though? They were like humans plus, and, in his experience, the greedy, diamond-loving spellcasters always landed in the “them” pile. From the first second he stepped into the Cage and discovered it was warded and enchanted to be absolutely Para-proof, he was done.
His resentment only grew the longer Maddox spent behind bars. During his brother's incarceration, Colt only visited him once a month, but that monthly visit was always torture. Between seeing what losing his mate did to Maddox, to the cramped, sterile prison, and the crackle of magic that filled the place, if it wasn’t for his loyalty to his brother, he would’ve never gone back.
Now that Maddox was finally on his way out again—thanks to Colt stumbling upon a very much alive Evangeline more than a month ago—Colt had another reason to despise the magic users.
Somebody had broken the human woman.
Colt’s older brother had spent the last three years convinced his beloved human mate was dead. Not because he saw her broken body, but because he felt the painful snap of their severed bond in the aftermath of the car crash.
That snap nearly killed Maddox. What the crash failed to do, losing his mate just about accomplished.
The Claws Clause was immediately invoked that terrible night. As a bonded shifter without his mate, Maddox had three choices: voluntary incarceration at a paranormal prison until he was rehabilitated; a lobotomy-like procedure performed by government-employed witches that would dissolve the remaining half of his bond; or a state-sanctioned execution so that he could be with his mate again.
For reasons Colt would never understand, Maddox chose the Cage.
Only Evangeline hadn’t died. She was alive—and it appeared as if she didn’t remember a damn thing about her life with Maddox. She certainly didn’t recognize Colt when he tracked her to that Grayson convenience store last month.
There was only one way to sever a bond like that, making one mate forget the other while also convincing an alpha wolf shifter and his beast that their mate was dead.
Magic.
Fucking witches.
Colt was dreading the moment when Maddox figured that out. Right now, his determined brother was probably stalking the length of his cell, waiting for his release from the Cage to be finalized so that he could get out and finally go after his Evangeline’s trail.