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And that wasn’t all.
Though he barely admitted it to himself, Colt kept waiting for Julian to try him. He couldn’t let himself forget that the vampire already pulled off two blood exchanges. One more and Shea was as good as bonded to him.
Unless he bonded Shea to himself first. And, until she came to him and told him she was ready to be claimed, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
“Dodge! What the hell? I thought I asked you to keep an eye on Shea.”
“You might want to go in there yourself. She needs you.”
His claws unsheathed. “Julian.”
Dodge tilted his derby, cocking it so that one electric blue peeper was on display. He was wearing a curious expression: part smirk, part exasperation, but Colt knew him well. The flash of wistfulness peeking out from behind his guarded gaze stood out more than anything.
“Yes and no,” Dodge answered. “It’s definitely his fault, but she’s not in trouble.” His characteristic smart ass-tone crept into his voice. “You might be, though.”
Dough.
“What do you mean—”
“You’ll see. And, don’t worry. I’m heading back to my place. You’ll have all the privacy you need. But, do me a favor? Remember you have neighbors.”
“What?”
Dodge didn’t answer him. Instead, he went motionless, wafting in the winter breeze. “You feel that?”
He wasn’t talking about the wind.
“Someone’s coming.”
Dodge winked out, reappearing a second later. “It’s alright. Deb just crossed into your territory. That’s strange. I wonder what she’s doing on this side of the Bumptown.”
Just as Dodge said that, he saw the big, boisterous Dayborn bouncing her way toward them. As curious as he was about her unexpected visit, Colt couldn’t stay. Not when Shea needed him.
“See what she wants. Okay?”
“You got it, pal.” Dodge clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go in there and make me proud.”
* * *
Shea sat on Colt’s couch with her legs crossed.
It didn’t help.
She didn’t know when the heat started. One second she was complaining about a headache. The next? Her pussy felt like it was on fire. Her whole groin area, too. She was hot. She was wet.
She was horny.
It only got worse the more she tried to ignore it. As a seller of herbs and about fifteen types of different crystals used for sexual energy, Shea had heard all kinds of stories from customers who loved her maca and horny goat weed blends, or who really got off with a hunk of carnelian.
This was like Spanish fly on crack.
Dodge could tell. To her everlasting embarrassment, he took one look at her, murmured, “You poor thing, I’m gonna go get your mate for ya,” then popped out before she could beg him not to.
A cold shower. That was all she needed. Or, she thought as she rubbed her legs together, trying to create some needed friction, maybe a little stimulation.
Something.
Anything.
