Hungry Like a Wolf (Claws Clause 1)

Only Colt recognized that tone. That was Mad’s Alpha voice which meant that he was deadly serious. That was his obey-me-or-else voice. As soon as Colt finished this late night meeting, he’d have to check in on his brother and see if Maddox could be reasoned with.

Slamming his truck door shut, Colt snorted.

Why the fuck had he thought Maddox could keep a clear head around Evangeline? His brother was thinking with a head, all right, but it certainly wasn’t the one sitting on top of his shoulders.

He should’ve known better. To be honest, pushing Maddox to run off with Evangeline was a clear sign that Colt probably wasn’t doing his best thinking, either.

What he was about to walk into? Probably the biggest hint that, somewhere in the last week or so, he’d lost his ever-loving mind.

The building he was standing in front of was one of a trio of skyscrapers that lorded over the city of Coventry; aptly named for the main power in town. His instructions were to go to the middle one and stop at the receptionist desk. So long as he had payment, he’d be let up to the top floor.

If you were oblivious to the witches’ presence and power in the large integrated city, no one could blame you for not knowing that the building was the headquarters for the local witch’s coven. Except for the purple accents displayed throughout the first floor, there was no other clue that this was coven territory.

Well, if you were oblivious and an Ant. As a shifter, Colt picked up on the magic before he even stepped a toe inside. The sweet scent of baby powder overlaid everything, coupled with a jolt of electricity that made his fur stand on end.

Shaking it off, he headed straight for the young male witch at the desk. Like every other witch Colt had ever met, this witch proudly wore his purple eyes out in the open. In the years since the Paras stopped hiding who and what they were, the witches had earned the best reputation. They didn’t have to hide anymore and most didn’t.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m here to see Luciana.” Colt flashed the diamond in his palm. “She’s expecting me.”

It was a full carat, worth more than three grand. It should’ve been enough to hire a handful of witches except, for some reason, his name came up on the coven’s blacklist. Not a single witch would take his job. And since he couldn’t get in touch with Maddox’s witch, his brother’s longtime friend Priscilla Winters, Colt had to do something he absolutely hated.

He had to grovel.

To add insult to injury, just arranging to meet with the head witch of the local coven was obscenely expensive. She wouldn’t even let him make an appointment to see her without the promise of payment. And a witch didn’t take cash.

The male witch nodded. Colt was willing to bet that the guy knew the worth of the rock in his palm at a glance. It was nice to see he passed muster.

“Take the first elevator to the top floor. Madame is waiting for you.”

Colt folded his fist. “No stairs?”

“Just the elevators, sir. They’re run by magic, though. You don’t have to worry about them going out.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

A short elevator ride later—that seemed longer with his wolf whimpering at the metal confinement he could rarely tolerate at the best of times—Colt found himself entering one hell of an office.

It was made of windows, each one warded with enough magic to make his back teeth ache. Everything inside was either black, white, or gold; no need to overdo the purple when one look at the woman sitting at the massive black desk in the center revealed that she was a powerful witch. At least twelve other witches were in the room, some at desks of their own, others milling nearby in case their Madame needed them, but Colt easily picked up on the biggest, baddest, most dominant predator of the bunch.

Ah. The head witch.

He’d never met her face to face before. Luciana la Sorcière was almost a boogeyman in Para circles. Everyone heard of her, but she spent most of her time running her coven like a multi-billion dollar company; she was rarely caught in public. If other witches served as the face of the race, Luciana was the beating heart of the coven. Without her, they just wouldn’t work.

Her eyes drew his attention first. They were purple, of course, and they were shrewd. She might be wearing a smile on a pair of lips so red, it was like she painted them with fresh blood, but her eyes were sizing him up, too.

Smart witch.

Luciana was wearing a suit: white blouse, black blazer. If she got to her feet, he knew she’d have on black slacks and heels. It was the same uniform all of her people wore, with the male witches moving easily in boots that matched the female witches’ stilettos.

The other witches all kept their hair short or plaited out of their face. Not Luciana. Her hair was a vibrant red shade, cascading in perfect waves down her back. She smelled like an earthy combination of baby powder and fire. It should’ve been off-putting. Strangely, it wasn’t. He wondered if she wore her hair like that on purpose. When she nodded in greeting, the light from above rippled on her long red hair, making it seem like a dancing flame.

She was also exceedingly

beautiful, but Colt had been expecting that.