Sunglasses at Night (Claws Clause 3)

Of course, then he fell prey to the Nightwalker king’s cruelty and, in late December, he became a Para himself. Between the change, the thirst, and the claws that were a constant reminder that he was different—that he was other—Adam hadn’t even thought twice about taking a woman in ages.

Well, no, he begrudgingly admitted. That wasn’t exactly true. Since turning, there had been one woman who caused his cock to come to life. Not just a twitch, not just a whisper of attraction, but a full-blown urge to fuck.

And what had he done? So convinced that the sudden need was bloodlust in disguise, he turned tail and ran, leaving the blonde beauty behind with the headless remains of the Nightwalker he had just saved her from.

That was more than two months ago and he still thought of her. Her dark brown eyes, the innocent expression, the adorable ponytail that listed to one side as she watched him curiously. He rescued her from a Nightwalker who slapped her and sent her flying, but she never screamed. He brandished his sword and she blinked up at him, her brow furrowed.

Even as she stared at him, obviously unsure if he’d attack her next or not, she never screamed.

Adam had bolted, and after his raging hard-on finally deflated, he regretted it almost as much as he accepted that leaving her behind was the smartest thing to do. He might be new to being a paranormal, but he’d heard stories while he was in the Cage. Shifters could only get it up for their mate.

Was it the same for Nightwalkers?

He didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to ask anyone to find out.

No surprise, despite the open interest on the clerk’s pretty face, his cock didn’t even respond. He figured it was better than the fear and revulsion he usually experienced from humans once they realized what he was, but not by much. Feeling her gaze running up and down his fit body while only experiencing annoyance at her ogling didn’t piss him off, but he didn’t like it, either.

And as her eyes lingered on his sweats, he realized the color choice might have been a mistake.

Ah, well. He moved forward.

3

“Name? Last name first, please.”

“Wright. First name’s Adam.”

The clerk shot him a charming grin. She seemed way too pleased to see him and, out of habit, he dipped his chin, peering through his sunglasses at her neck. Unless he was mistaken, he could spot the edge of the familiar tattoo curving around her collarbone.

Great. Not a Donor exactly—one of the blood junkies who traded their blood for the high only a dangerous Nightwalker could offer—but a donor.

Same name, but the little d made a whole world of a difference, Adam discovered. If done correctly, a Nightwalker could feed without any pain to the donor. Some donors were paid well for the exchange, and others were rewarded with a feeling of pleasure that had friendly donors turning into addicted Donors eventually.

The tattoo was a brand as much as a spell. So long as a donor wore that mark, it protected them from crossing from the little d donor to the full-fledged blood junkies. No wonder the clerk was eyeing him closely. She was probably wondering what it would be like if he bit her.

Ha. As if. Adam was what they called a virgin. Disregarding his once active sex life, being a Nightwalker virgin meant he hadn’t ever fed straight from a donor’s vein before.

And he never would.

She ripped her heavy stare away from him for a moment, turning toward her computer, tapping at the keys as she entered his information.

“Alright, Mr. Wright. What can I do for you?”

The words were almost dragged out of him, he was so hesitant to admit the truth. “I had a provisional P.I.D. Got stopped by a cop. He told me I had to come down and get a permanent one.”

She looked at her screen. “Ah. I see. You were turned at the end of December, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Provisionals only last for five months. Yours expired at the end of May. You just missed the cut-off, but that’s alright. I can get you sorted. It won’t be long.” Holding up her hand, gesturing for him to wait where he was, she pulled a few sheets of paper together, attached them to a clipboard, then slid it under the partition. She grabbed a pan and sent that next. “Fill these out, sign the third page, and we can get started. You can do it right here,” she added, giving him a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t want you to have to get back on line.”

Yeah.

He bet.

Picking up the pen, he started to fill out the application for a permanent P.I.D. while the clerk busied herself with something at her desk. He heard the chair creak as she shifted her weight, leaning over to grab another sheet of paper—

“Oh, shoot.”