Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)
Even from the distance, Shea recognized her. Alexis, the female Nightwalker.
She moved her mouth again, keeping her voice low so that the other vamps didn’t hear her. “I think I know where he is.”
Colton took her free hand and squeezed it. “Then let’s go.”
Shea nodded, untangling herself from his embrace. There was no need to blend in with the other patrons when she was about to announce their entrance anyway.
After she pointed out the door, Colton guided them straight through the middle, avoiding all of the sipping, the draining, and the fucking. She clung to his hand, trying not to look—trying not to breathe—before she glanced up and saw that Alexis was watching their approach with a curious expression.
To her surprise—and a little dismay—the Nightwalker nodded in greeting as soon as they got to the door. With a devilish smile, she grabbed the doorknob, pushing the door in.
“Go on,” she told him. “He’s been expecting you.”
Shea gulped. There went any hope that the bond they began with the two blood exchanges had dissolved as soon as Colton claimed her. He had to have been keeping tabs on her still. How else would he know she was on her way?
Unfortunately, that meant he would also be aware that she was fully bonded to her shifter.
How was the unpredictable, yet viciously cruel Nightwalker going to react when he saw her walking into his lair, hand in hand with her mate?
Shea didn’t know, but she was about to find out.
* * *
Through their bond, Colt could tell that Shea was freaking the fuck out.
He didn’t blame her. They’d expected to walk into a nightclub. What they found instead was a slaughterhouse. He couldn’t count how many drained bodies he sensed in that room. Even worse, half of them had the telltale rotten tinge that meant they were given Nightwalker blood sometime before their draining.
This wasn’t just a place for Nightwalkers to mate and drink their victims in peace. This was a breeding ground for more Nightwalkers.
He had to get this place shut down. But, first, he had to get Wright out of there.
The door led them down a twisted hallway. Shea hesitated when the hall branched off in two directions but, now that they’d left the carnage behind, Colt could pick up on Wright’s faint spicy scent. He took the right turn, holding Shea’s hand tightly as he guided her with him.
The final hall led to one more door. Before he reached for it, he looked down at her, a question written in the furrows of his brow.
His mate set her jaw. Her purple eyes gleamed.
If he was going in there, so was she.
Well, they might as well make an entrance. After letting go of Shea’s hand for a second, then motioning for her to stand back, Colt lifted his boot high and kicked in the door.
It went flying into the much smaller room, spinning and sliding until it slammed into the edge of the raised dais across from the doorway. The blonde Nightwalker perched on a metal-wrought throne raised his eyebrows as it came to a stop right in front of him.
He tsk-ed. “Honestly, darling. Isn’t your pet a little better trained than that? I know his pretty face hides a beast, but you could’ve just knocked.”
Colt shifted so that he was blocking Shea from the Nightwalker’s view. “Where’s Wright? What did you do with my”—oh, hell, he was going to have to admit it out loud, wasn’t he?—“partner?”
“Less than he deserved,” muttered another voice.
Colt’s head jerked to the left. His attention had been so focused on the king—on Julian—that he didn’t notice there was a second threat present until he spoke.
Rafe. The same black Nightwalker he had fought the afternoon outside of Shea’s shop. He should’ve known.
He snapped his fangs at the other Nightwalker, then turned back to Julian, his wolf on alert in case Rafe tried something when he was distracted.
Rafe had confirmed that they’d done something to Wright. But what?
Colt flared his nostrils, sampling the scents. Nightwalker was the most prevalent, but he picked up on frightened human. The salty tang of nervous sweat, the slick ooze of adrenaline… but none of Wright’s blood.