Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

He had to. For her, for the family they would one day start, for the wolf and the witch he had denied too long with his stubbornness… he had to.

“I agree to the terms.”

“Excellent.”

As Julian started to remove his suit jacket, Rafe moved toward the dais. He reached inside his own jacket, pulling out something that winked and flashed in the pale yellow lights streaming down from above.

What the—

He rotated the ring-shaped disc in his hands. “Let me collar him, Julian.”

A collar.

Holy shit, he had a collar.

The bastard corpse was carrying a silver collar.

If Rafe got that collar on him, he’d be fucked. Not only would it sap his strength, but the silver—treated or raw, it didn’t matter—would ensure that Colt couldn’t tap into his beast or shift to his wolf. He would still fight to the death for his mate, no doubt about that. Weakened by a collar? There might be a chance the death at the end of the fight really could be his.

Julian waved the other vamp off.

“I don’t ever want my betrothed to doubt that she ended with the strongest, most worthy male. The collar… it just wouldn’t be fair.”

“And you care?” asked Rafe, slipping the collar back inside.

Julian snorted. “Not even a little. But she will.”

“This is ridiculous,” Shea blurted out. “This isn’t about me. Where’s Adam? I want to see if he’s okay.”

“All in good time, darling. Once I get rid of your shifter, I’ll let you tend to him. You have nothing to worry about. The corporal is perfectly safe.” Folding up his jacket neatly, laying it on the seat of his throne, Julian turned back to Colt. “As soon as I take your head, I think I’ll do the third blood exchange right here.”

“I won’t let you touch her.”

“Hard to protect her without a head. Not that she’ll mourn you long. She’s had my blood just as I’ve had hers. For one of my kind, that’s a bond that no one can break. All I have to do is bite her and claim her—and I’ll make sure to bite her as hard as I can. My donors tell me there’s no greatest pleasure. Why, they’d slit their own throat if I asked them, too. After I get my fangs in her, my queen will be begging for me to claim her.”

Colt let out his claws, tapping into his wolf. “Over my dead body.”

Julian’s lips curved. “Well, yes. That’s my plan.”

“Give your word that no one else will interfere.”

“You have it. This is between me and you, dog.”

Apart from Julian and Colt, Shea and Rafe, the room was clear. He’d know if any other vamps were lurking nearby. And the rest of the patrons in the other room wouldn’t interfere. He was sure of it.

“Then let’s go,” Colt told him.

In the next heartbeat, Julian launched himself at Colt, slashing with his thick, black Nightwalker claws. Colt, who had been expecting him to go claws first after his fight with Rafe, blocked the strikes with his arm. He’d known such a fight was a possibility. This time, since it was a rescue mission, not a recon, he didn’t go into the Nightwalker nest unprepared. He purposely pulled on a padded jacket before they left the Bumptown so that it offered a little protection.

Not for him. But for Shea.

Fluff flew, getting caught on his claws. Julian howled in rage when his claws barely scraped Colt’s skin. He kicked out at Colt’s knee. Colt leaned into the hit, using the momentum to swing back across his body.

The Nightwalker sped away before he could connect. With perfect body control, Colt absorbed the punch, compensating for the swing by bracing his boots on the floor. He spun, tracking the blonde blur before Julian ended up on his dais again.

“Before this goes much further, there’s something I should mention. That blood-bond I told you about? It works like yours.” Colt didn’t have a half a clue where Julian pulled the knife from; in Para fights, they were never used. One second, his hands were empty. The next? He had a six-inch silver dagger clutched tightly in his hand. He pressed the tip to the underside of his forearm. His pale eyes gleamed. “Want to see?”

Colt hesitated.