Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

He meant every word he said.

Not that he believed Wright—as anti-Para as he was—could pick a vamp out of all of the different types of paranormals living in the Bumptown. Or that, if he did, he could take one on.

“The last thing I want to do is prove myself to you, but if that’ll get you off my task force, I’m game. What do I have to do?”

Colt’s grin grew razor-sharp.

* * *

He led the cop over to Sunset Boulevard, pointed out a house, then stayed back so that his presence didn’t spook the vampire he had brought Wright to meet.

It had to be Sunset Boulevard. Little Transylvania was out of the question. The last thing Colt needed was for the lone Nightwalkers that kept their coffins in his Bumptown to get all up in arms because he was partnering with the humans to hunt one of them. He’d deal with the fallout after he could prove that the killer Nightwalkers weren’t any of his people. Until then, it was none of their business.

Besides, contrary to belief, he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Regardless of what Wright said, Colt doubted he was ready to face off against a Nightwalker—even a semi-harmless one. Still, the cop needed to know what he was up against. Corpses in the Cage were very different from vamps out here in the wild.

Throwing a glance over where Colt was waiting for him, Wright set his shoulders, rested his hand on the butt of his gun for a quick second, then folded his fingers into a fist.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Colt had picked this house purposely. Of all of the vampires that lived along this stretch of the Bumptown, he knew that she would be tickled to see the human police officer on her doorstep rather than be completely ticked off.

When the door flew inward, revealing a buxom blonde with big hair, big hips, and a big personality, Colt stretched his senses to make sure that she reacted the way he expected her to. They weren’t exactly friends—she was more friendly with Dodge, which was how Colt knew her—and she was still a vampire, wasn’t she?

And that’s when she smiled.

Colt muffled his laugh.

Oh, yeah. This was gonna be great.

She didn’t even have to speak. That was her type of magic. Unlike a witch, who needed diamonds and spells, grimoires and incantations, all it took was Wright looking her dead in her eyes.

One second.

One glance.

One look and Wright would forget everything except how much he wanted to spend time with the lovely vampire female.

Colt wouldn’t let it go that far. That’s why, as soon as Wright started to follow her inside, he stepped away from the tree that he’d been tucked up against, hiding just out of her sight.

Catching her attention, he waved. “Sorry about that, Deb. Can’t let you have that one.”

Even from the distance, Colt picked up on her pout. “He’s yours, then?”

“Yeah. But I’ve been meaning to stop by anyway. I wanted to say thanks for the turkey. I really appreciated it.”

“Ah, that was no problem, Colton, hun,” she called back, waving her hand. Anyone else might’ve thought she was just returning Colt’s wave. Nope. As she dropped her control over Wright, the stocky man stumbled and shook his head. Now that Colt had claimed him, Debbie wouldn’t dare lay a single fang on him. “Hey. Thank Lisa for me, wouldja? Her recipe was to die for. Well, not really…” She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. Will do.” He nodded over to where Wright was still standing on Debbie’s porch, watching the back and forth in confusion, as if he didn’t know where he was—or what was going on.

Just like Colt expected.

“Hey,” he said to Debbie. “My guy wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

Her laugh was a high-pitched tinkle. “He’s only a human. If he gets out of line, I can always just take a nip.”

She would, too, if she thought she could get away with it. Debbie was a sweetheart—but she was still a vamp. He got that. Debbie was the first Dayborn to settle in the Bumptown shortly after the big revelation that Paras were real. She was there long before Colt took over as the de facto Alpha in the Zoo, and she’d always been a little sweet on him.

Or she wanted a sip from his neck. For a Dayborn, the two weren’t mutually exclusive.