Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

His wolf needed the exercise. And Colt needed to focus on something that wasn’t Shea Moonshadow.

To make matters worse, right before he left, his mother had cornered him to ask if she would see him Thursday for dinner. Before he could snap at Maddox for involving their parents, he put two and two together and realized that Thursday—the day Maddox wanted him over to eat—was Thanksgiving.

No wonder Dodge had looked at him like he was an idiot for not understanding why Maddox was pushing the whole family dinner thing.

His mother was waiting for Colt to finally make Shea his mate in truth. She wanted her boys to settle down and nagged in that loving way Sarah Wolfe was known for. Luckily, Terrence stepped in and told his mate that Colt wasn’t a pup anymore.

When Sarah snapped her teeth at her mate—the only member of the pack who could challenge the Alpha without it being a true challenge—Colt tucked his tail between his legs and dashed out the back door.

He narrowly missed running into Ralph, waving off the unnecessary offer of a ride back into town before he kicked off his shoes and shifted on the spot. His t-shirt and jeans exploded into tatters as the over-sized, white arctic wolf appeared where the boyishly handsome twenty-seven-year-old Colt had been seconds before.

He ran the entire way home. Sure, he’d have to find a way to get his truck back tomorrow, pick up his discarded boots, too, but that was tomorrow.

Tonight was for his wolf.

Of the two Wolfe brothers, Colt had always been the most in tune with his beast. Not lately. Both halves of him were locked in a constant battle as they fought over his… his mate.

Five months later and Colt couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He couldn't stop fantasizing about her, either.

&nb

sp; Shit.

Just as he crossed onto the wooded land that surrounded the perimeter of his Bumptown, he couldn’t hold back any longer. In mid-stride, the wolf shifted back to his two-legged shape, revealing a very naked, very aroused male.

That wasn’t so unusual. From the moment he woke up in his bed and discovered that she was there, that she was touching him, that she knew she was his mate, Colt struggled to deal with his hard-on. It was like his damn cock had a mind of its own. No matter how Colt tried to convince himself that he wasn’t going to mate her—that he couldn’t—his cock went stiff at just the slightest thought of her.

Her curls.

Her smile.

Her tits.

The head bobbed, pointed skyward as Colt went down on his knees. It was cold out, November on the east coast, and he felt the chill like a caress on his overheated skin. How many times had he stroked himself, praying for some relief, wishing he could tame his wayward cock without going to Shea and sacrificing his stubborn pride?

Finding another woman was out of the question. He couldn’t have Shea—he was too stubborn, too hard-headed, and he’d lost any chance of getting inside of her a long time ago. No matter what, though, she was his true mate. The one fate picked out for him. He couldn’t have Shea, but he wouldn’t take anyone else.

So he jerked off. A lot. Considering how many times he’d brought himself to come in the last five months, it amazed him that he’d never masturbated before he found Shea. Male shifters couldn’t even get an erection until they chanced upon their true mate—another reason why he knew Shea was supposed to be his—and it seemed as if he was making up for lost time.

Taking just a second to make sure no one else was close enough to see what he was doing, Colt wrapped his hand around his shaft. It was hot, it was hard, and a bead of pre-cum was already forming at the tip of the mushroom-shaped head.

He gave it a vicious tug, then another, every rough stroke like another punishment. He refused to find any type of gratification in the act. It was another biological urge, one he didn’t have the strength to ignore. When the friction started to burn, he increased the pace, throwing back his head and moaning when the quick jolt of pleasure overtook the pain.

Come spurted out on the frozen grass. He wiped his hand against his bare ass, chest heaving in the brisk night air. His cock twitched, still semi-hard, and he took a deep breath, struggling for control.

He took a deep breath and snuffled back through his nose.

He’d been too preoccupied with his quick orgasm to use his nose. When his ears and his wolf assured him that he was the only living creature around him, he left it at that. The deep breath he just took? The stench of carrion, of rotten meat, blood, and death that nearly slapped him in the face… he was right.

He was the only living thing around.

Nightwalkers stunk like that. Once you caught your first whiff of the dead vampires, you never forgot it. Only… he wasn’t anywhere near Little Transylvania.

Colt shifted back to his wolf, choosing fur over bare skin. Not that he gave a shit if someone caught him with his cock out when he wasn’t tugging on it. Shifters always came back from their animal shape without any clothes on. Far as he was concerned, nudity was definitely more of a human hang-up.

But, as he dashed over the wooded terrain, four paws were faster than two legs. His wolf lifted its muzzle high, tasting the blood in the air, following it to the edge of the boundary that butted up against Colt’s immediate territory.