Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

She was still waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t tell her any of that. His witch, despite the way she was snapping at him now, was still so innocent in so many ways. She even gave him chance after chance before he finally pushed her to her breaking point.

Telling her that he stumbled upon a corpse and the tumbled, matted curls reminded him of her? That he thought of Shea and had to run to her as soon as he couldn’t help himself?

Sure, Colt. ‘Cause that was fucking romantic.

Good thing they both knew where they stood when it came to agreeing that there wasn’t anything between them. Once the bond was gone—

“I was around,” he told her. “Thought I’d come by and see how your research is coming along.”

“Colton.”

His name was Colton, but everyone he knew pronounced it with a full glottal stop. Col’in. It always interested him that his family could shorten it to C

olt and remember there was a ‘t’ in there somewhere. But Shea… she said it like every Alpha damn letter meant something to her.

Col-ton.

He wasn’t a cat shifter, but hell if he didn’t want to purr when she called him by his name. It didn’t even matter that she sounded so incredibly over dealing with him.

“What? I just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten about our problem.” Hadn’t forgotten him, damn it. “It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve heard from you.”

A couple of weeks since she called him. It had barely been a handful of days since the last time he lost the battle with his wolf and Colt ended up pacing the lengths of the alley behind her shop, just content in knowing she was asleep on the second floor while he did his best to guard her territory without her knowing.

He’d never admit to that, either.

“I didn’t have an update for you. And it’s not like you want me calling up just to say hi.”

Yes. Yes, he did.

Alpha knew he shouldn’t, but he did.

This was a bad idea. A horrible one. He was too close. He needed the distance, needed to work himself to the bone so that he could pass out, both exhausted and sure that his wolf was contained. When Colt was in his Bumptown and Shea was in Grayson, the thirty miles between them made it easier for him to pretend that he didn’t want her so badly, he was in constant misery.

Sometimes he wondered if he was being stubborn just because he’d spent twenty-seven years insisting that he didn’t want a mate. But then he remembered that Shea didn’t choose him, either, and even if she’d been interested in getting to know him in the beginning, he’d learned that her sweet nature had its limits.

And that was his fault.

“You’ve been trying to come up with a way to sever our bond for a while now. I know it’s possible. It’s in the damn Claws Clause. Witches working for the government do it all the time. It can’t be that hard. Maybe you should see if another one of you can help you figure this shit out.”

The air crackled with repressed magic. Shea didn’t shoot purple energy out of her hands like Cilla had that night back in June, but Colt recognized the inherent threat all the same.

Because things had been going so well so far, now he just had to insult her, too.

Way to go, Wolfe.

She held up her hand, cutting him off. “You don’t want me to be a witch. I get it. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I can’t change that, Colton. I can’t change what I am.”

“I never said—”

He didn’t have to.

“I don’t practice witchcraft by choice. I’ve told you that. Just because I don’t, though, it doesn’t make me any less of a witch. I can read the spell books just fine. I know what I’m looking for. I just haven’t found it yet.”

The way her purple eyes seemed to develop an unearthly glow all but dared him to argue. But Colt couldn’t, so he just shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay, then.”

* * *