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He knew firsthand how a bond worked. Even before he let himself be open to the idea of going after Shea, of claiming her as his, there was a fledgling bond that existed between the two of them.
When he dropped the dresser on his ankle during their first meeting, she gasped and limped like she’d been the one who was hurt. Echoes of his broken ankle hit her—and that was within seconds of Colt recognizing her as the one woman meant for him.
Then there was his accident and how much she suffered before she discovered that she was meant to be his mate—and that he was the reason she was in pain.
It went both ways. When Shea dropped her shields around him, he could feel almost everything she could.
She was his mate. It would kill him if he caused her even an ounce of hurt. That was why he was avoiding getting too close before he saw the perfect opportunity to go for Julian’s head himself. He could take a couple of hits, but could she?
While Julian taunting him with the dagger, Shea burst forward. “Colt, don’t listen to him. He’s lying!”
Could vampires lie? He’d always heard rumors that they couldn’t.
Julian gestured with the dagger toward the other Nightwalker. “Rafe. Keep my betrothed safe. I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt.”
Colt’s wolf lunged against his ribcage, hurling itself in anger and despair as the man kept it on lockdown. His beast hated how the Nightwalker accused him of being responsible for any of her pain almost as much as his possessive instincts roared to see Rafe wrap his arms around Shea, hauling her back up against his front.
Still, it was a duel to the death. He had to react. He had to fight.
Pretending as if he could care one way or another—a hell of a feat for a bonded shifter—Colt nodded over at Julian. “You cut yourself and all you will do is make yourself weaker for me. I didn’t think that was possible.”
Julian’s teasing expression turned cold. Tossing the dagger to the dais, he threw himself right back at Colt.
27
Okay.
Julian might’ve been toying with Colt a little before.
The whirling dervish that was teeth and fangs came at Colt with a lot more fire, a lot more strength than he had a few minutes ago. At the first slice that cut all the way through his coat, Colt knew that Julian really meant it this time.
Sending an apology down through their bond, Colt had to block her out. His wolf could still sense her near, still knew that she was close enough by to keep him from going fully feral, but he needed to use the temper he’d struggled with his whole life if he wanted to get out of this alive.
It was close. For every other strike he got in, Julian managed one to the point that he was covered in shallow slices that stung like hell. Blood dripped, splattering the floor and making the tiles slippery if he hit after another spray. Some of the blood was Colt’s, most of it the Nightwalker’s, until Julian got in a careful slash right through Colt’s jeans.
He’d been aiming for Colt’s hamstring, a way to disable him immediately. Julian’s thick claws just missed the tendon, but it left a gaping wound in the back of Colt’s thigh.
His right arm hurt, too. Colt shook it off, pouring all of his energy into healin
g the leg wound. The Nightwalker hadn’t even aimed for that side, so it couldn’t be a threatening injury, just an annoying ache that meant nothing.
“Colt!” shouted Shea.
Julian had retreated, a vicious gleam in his pale eyes proving that it was on purpose; he wasn’t backing up, but showing Colt that he was taking his time before he went in for the kill.
Colt was prowling around his opponent, wiping blood and sweat from his stinging eyes, not even daring to blink in case Julian got in another lucky swipe.
He felt the urgency in their bond at the same time as she called his name. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he had to look.
Catching his eyes, she purposely pinched her arm. In the harsh light, he could make out red welts up and down her arm.
Suddenly, he understood the meaning behind all of the minor distracting twinges up and down his arm. Colt could feel the echoes of each pinch through their bond. The Nightwalker, though? He hadn’t responded to even a single one.
Shea was right. He was lying. And if he was lying about his bond—at least, that Julian and Shea could share both pleasure and pain through their blood-fueled tie—then what else could he have lied about?
The corporal is perfectly safe...
Give me your word that no one else will interfere…
