Page 4 of Colton’s Mate

His leopard just hadn’t gotten the memo.

Miranda was following his gaze. “Who’s that girl?”

Colt turned back to her. “Just somebody I know.”

“Give me your phone. I’m going to send her a selfie of us making out.” There was a malicious edge to her voice that almost made Colt’s leopard growl again. Callie had been through enough. Nobody should make her feel bad anymore.

Not that Colt making out with someone would make her feel bad. But Miranda wanted it to, and that was enough for his leopard.

Colt made sure his phone was out of Miranda’s reach. “She wouldn’t care.”

“Well, obviously you do.”

He did? No he didn’t. Not like that. “She’s just a friend.”

“Uh huh. Then why are you watching her like you’re either a jealous ex or a creepy stalker?”

Somehow he’d ended up watching Callie again. He looked back to his date, who for some reason was pissed off, as if she hadn’t spent the last forty-five minutes fixated on a guy who wasn’t even in the damn bar, let alone her date.

“Not jealous or stalking,” he said.

His leopard perked up inside him. Stalking? We are good at stalking. We can hide in the forest outside Callie’s house and watch her. We can kill things and leave them on her doorstep, to make her happy.

Then his owl chimed in. The one he wasn’t supposed to have, until he and Remy messed with the recessive sides of their genes. So now he had dueling animals inside him.

Or we can just fly there. Perch in a tree, where we can see in her window. And kill things and eat them ourself.

For fuck’s sake, Colt told them both. We are not stalking her. She doesn’t need our protection. And she certainly doesn’t need us to kill small animals for her.

That’s what I said. His owl was being smug now. Pecker.

She needs us to lick her all over, his leopard said.

Yecchh, said his owl. I hate when I get fur in my beak.

Facepalm.

Miranda shoved her chair back. “Now you’re facepalming me? I don’t deserve to be treated like this!” And before Colt could figure out what the hell she was doing, she marched over to Callie and started bitching her out.

Like all this was her fault?

Attack! Attack! His leopard wanted to run over there and protect Callie.

Sheesh. Not attacking. But he probably ought to go over there and see if she needed—

Sheeyit.

Callie, who had been listening politely to Miranda’s harangue, picked up the martini off the tray she was carrying and carefully poured it down Miranda’s cleavage.

Miranda froze.

Then her eyes narrowed and Colt saw her muscles tense.

This was about to get ugly.

He used his shifter speed to get across the room and catch Miranda in mid-air, just as she launched herself at Callie.

Callie stepped back. “I am soooo sorry,” she cooed. “It was a total accident.”