Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

With a pleading look on his pale face, Hudson mouthed the word, “Please.”

Goddess help her, Shea stepped toward the dais, holding her hand out to the Nightwalker monster.

Just like Rafe, he was fast. He moved so quickly, he was a blur she could hardly make out. One second he was perched on his metal throne. The next, he was looming over her as he met her on the floor.

Before Shea could react, he snatched her hand, jabbing her pointer finger with one of his pointy claws.

“Oh,” she breathed out, watching the red well on her fingertip.

He’d pierced her.

As soon as she realized that he’d cut through her skin, she felt it. A niggling, nagging pain that made her entire finger burn like it was suddenly on fire. She tapped into her well of healing. It was almost empty, thanks to how much she used to heal her brother.

Wonderful.

Her entire hand glowed in a pale lilac color as she called on her meager magic supplies to aid in the healing. When she was desperate, it helped.

And, Goddess, was she desperate.

The Nightwalker leaned in. “Allow me.”

Then, before she could stop him, he took her hand in his, raising it to his mouth. His lips parted. Shea wanted to refuse. Only the flash of Julian’s claws raking across Hudson’s throat kept her still as the Nightwalker slipped her injured finger between his teeth.

He didn’t bite her. No. She’d almost been expecting that—and what he did instead was so much worse. He lathed her finger with his tongue, the heat of his mouth a stark comparison to his notably chilled skin.

She shivered, but didn’t move. She didn’t exactly breathe, either.

Julian’s eyes glowed as he caressed her wound softly, careful not to nick her with his fangs. When he was done—when Shea thought she was ready to pass out due to lack of oxygen—he let her finger slide out of his mouth with a barely audible pop.

He cradled her hand in his, angling it so that her palm was up and Shea could see her fingertip.

“See,” purred Julian. “I can heal, too.”

She didn’t understand. If he could do that… “Then why do you need me?”

“I told you. I don’t need a witch. I need a queen.” With a crooked grin, he licked his lips again before going back to take his seat on the dais. Once he’d positioned himself, arms resting on the edge of the throne, legs spread lazily so that she could see the effect she continued to have on his body, Julian nodded at her. “The first blood exchange is complete. The promise is made. You belong to me now.”

A life for a life.

Shea for Hudson.

It was a good thing Colton didn’t want to complete their bonding. Now that she was suddenly pledged to a Nightwalker, how could she be his mate?

Simple.

She couldn’t.

13

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Colt remembered that he had come down to Bloodlust because he was Wright’s back-up. Just because the cop was walking around with a chip on his shoulder and one hell of a death wish, that didn’t mean that he was going to let him get on with it.

Colt was only a good liar when he was lying to himself. If he stood back and watched as Wright served himself up to a crowd of Nightwalkers, no way would Diaz buy that Colt hadn’t been able to stop it.

Of course, that was before he got a glimpse of his witch following her brother into a doorway built on the far side of the club.

From that moment on, Wright was on his own.

Considering the cop slipped away from his side the second Colt was distracted, he figured that was exactly how Wright wanted it. He had Wright’s cologne memorized—plus the underlying spicy note that belonged to the human male—so he was sure he could find him easily if he had to.