Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

He should. There were a million reasons why he should.

Too bad he was stubborn enough to ignore each and every one.

“I’m not in any rush to leave,” he told her.

“That’s fine. Remote for the television is right there. I don’t have cable, but maybe you’ll find something you like on Witchflix.”

As if he’d watch a minute of the witch-only streaming service. That was almost as bad as joining Dodge for his afternoon “stories”.

“Pass— wait. Where are you going?”

Shea was halfway toward her front door when Colt realized she was leaving him behind.

“My phone’s still in Hudson’s car.” She waved at the silky-looking scrap that was masquerading as a dress underneath his suit jacket. “Had nowhere to carry it, okay? But I’ve got to call him, let him know I got home alright. I don’t have a landline up here, so I’m gonna have to use the phone in my store.”

“Can it wait?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just for a second,” he grunted. He’d been thinking about what Shea had said the entire ride over to her place and, damn it, she was right. “I’ll walk out with you as soon as I’m done.”

“Done doing what?”

In answer, Colt dropped his hand to his waist, yanking on his button-down shirt. It had been tucked into his fancy dress pants. With one good tug, he had it free.

Shea’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t have a change of clothes.” His fingers flew up the shirt, unbuttoning it. “Can’t waste these.”

Once his shirt was hanging open, he dropped his hand to the front of his pants. A quick flick to unbutton them before he grabbed the zipper. As he pulled on it, the sound echoed in the small room.

Shea yipped and spun around, giving him her back.

He paused. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re stripping!”

“Yeah? So?” Hating the hope that crept into his voice, Colt asked, “What? Never seen a naked guy before?”

“Of course I’ve seen naked guys, but they usually wait for me to give the okay before they start undressing in the middle of my living room!”

Oh, Alpha, did her casual admission rub his fur the wrong way. His hope died, jealousy replacing it in a heartbeat. He swallowed it back before grumpily reminding her, “We’re still bonded.”

“Yeah? I haven’t found the spell to break it yet. You know that. Your point?”

“You’re my mate.”

The words slipped out without warning. He was as stunned as she probably was and, as soon as they were out, he held his breath. How would she react?

Colt didn’t know if he should be ticked off or relieved when Shea blew past his statement as if he hadn’t said a word.

Her shoulders went stiff, though, her back ramrod straight as she let out an annoyed huff. “So? That means I don’t get to give consent?”

“What? Shit. No. That’s what I meant at all.” Colt scowled, her accusation a sting to his pride—and his heart. He let his hands settle at his side, pants hanging open. “Shea… you’ll always get a say. I’m a dick. I know I am. And, okay, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing about any of this. It’s all too new. That’s no excuse, though. I want you to call me out when I’m being an ass. And I’m not just getting naked because I had an urge to. I’m not that oblivious.”

“Hmm.”

She didn’t turn around, but Colt sensed it from the faint crackle in the air as she bolstered her shields. The spike of indignation mellowed to a muted spice before finally disappearing.