Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

Julian licked his lips. While he continued to stroke himself lazily, continued to watch Shea closely—thank the Goddess her shields held so that he couldn’t guess how scared and uncomfortable she was—he called out a name.

“Rafe.”

The male vampire leaning against the wall straightened, moving toward Julian. “Yes?”

“Remind me to send my regards to the witch. When she offered us Grayson on a silver platter, I never thought I’d be so fortunate as to find my betrothed.”

“Really?” Rafe’s silver eyes glittered as he cast his own appraising glance over Shea. He frowned. “I’m not sure I see the appeal.”

“Of course not. If her blood called to you, she’d be your betrothed. She’s not. This one is mine.”

Rafe shrugged his lean shoulders and nodded, agreeing.

The female vampire didn’t look so pleased.

“You can’t be serious,” she sneered. “Her? She’s just another witch. A dime a dozen. You could have anyone else—”

“I’m sure I could. But why would I settle when this one has my blood pumping at just the sight of her? I’ve been waiting for my queen—”

Shea blinked.

He said queen. He sat on a throne.

Hang on—

This Julian was a Nightwalker king?

Did that even exist?

And what did he mean, betrothed?

“—and, look, I’m responding to her without even a taste. You don’t have to like it, Alexis. Tough plasma. You’ll get over it. This witch will be my betrothed.”

“Your betrothed?” Hudson echoed. “I thought you just wanted to sample witch blood.”

Julian’s eyebrows arched high over his pale grey eyes. “Was I talking to you, human?”

Hudson flinched. “No.”

“Then be quiet. When I get thirsty, then I might have need for you, and you’d better consider yourself lucky if I choose to drink your weak blood.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s better.”

“No, it’s not,” blurted out Shea. She had to speak. The time for staying quiet and hoping she could get out of this with all of her blood was gone. She whirled on Hudson. “What’s going on? Goddess, Hudson, what did you do?”

Hanging his head, Hudson didn’t answer her.

Julian did.

A soft chuckle, as if he was pleased. “Ah, but didn’t he tell you?”

Her head was spinning, trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this. No way was she going to be anything to a killer vamp if she could help it.

Buying some time, she stammered out, “He… he said someone needed a healing.”

It was quite possibly the worst thing she could’ve said.