Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

Shea slammed her shields up with so much force, she felt it like an ache in the back of her teeth.

Colton whipped his head around. “You cut me off,” he growled.

She had to. “I think he could tell what we were just doing.”

“And? You’re my mate.”

She might be. But she was also the Nightwalker’s betrothed.

“He waited for you to finish before he called out to us. I’m betting that was on purpose. The only way he could’ve known that is either he’s got eyes and ears on me inside my own home, or he’s used the blood exchange to keep tabs on me like he threatened he could.” She started to tremble. “If I’m supposed to be his, he’s not gonna be happy that I touched you like that.”

Colt’s shoulders hunched, leaning forward as his body became more lupine. “I told you, Shea. You’re my mate. You can touch me all you want and no corpse is gonna keep me from you.”

She’d waited months for him to react the way a bonded shifter usually did toward their mate. Just her damn luck, though. Colton finally decided to stake his claim right after she was forced to swallow the Nightwalker’s blood.

Glancing around, she didn’t notice anything different. What did he mean by gift? Did he—

Thud.

The building shook again. Except, this time, it couldn’t be Colton throwing himself at her enchanted windows.

But what was that?

“Come on,” Colton shouted, moving quickly as he swooped his hand behind her back, his other hand tucked underneath her ass. He tilted Shea back in his arms, giving her a split second to throw her hands around his neck before he bolted down the stairs and threw her shop.

As soon as they reached the open door, Shea caught sight of the body sprawled on the sidewalk right out of her shop as if he’d been tossed there. She didn’t even have to screech for Colton to put her down.

He must’ve recognized the black curls, too.

Like Colt, Shea was barefoot. The ground was hard and frozen, slick with slush, covered in a heavy, wet snow thought it was raining now. Deep inside of her, she recognized the cold bite as she padded on the sidewalk, throwing herself to her knees at her brother’s side.

He looked dead, though she could immediately sense that he wasn't. Not yet, at least. Gashes covered the skin that wasn’t covered by his rain—and blood—soaked clothes. Slices carved up his face, a set of punctures on his throat noticeable for their savagery.

“Hudson!” she cried, suddenly understanding Julian’s message.

A gift because Julian had spared her brother’s life long enough to lay him outside of her store. He could have easily ended him during the fit of rage that had enticed the Nightwalker to do this to Hudson.

But he hadn’t—because he was giving her a gift.

Or a test, Shea thought as she ran her shaky hands over her brother’s still face. Freezing rain mingled with the blood, leaving faint pink trails on his skin before washing it away. In the beats between raindrops, the remaining blood continued to bubble up.

How much more did he have, though?

How much did Julian take?

He was testing her. Not only that, he was reminding her of her promise.

A life for a life.

Shea for Hudson.

By going back on her word, by choosing Colt, she’d forfeited her end of the bargain. And, just like she feared that awful night at Bloodlust, Hudson was paying the price.

No.

There was still time. The spark of life inside of Hudson was dim, but it hadn’t gone out yet.

She could save him.