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As soon as Colt found the plate with the turkey leg on it, he knew she’d left it for him. Lisa, the human mate to one of Colt’s packmates, was an excellent cook who, on the weekends, ran cooking classes in the Bumptown. As a Dayborn—a natural-born vampire who could live on both blood and food—Debbie was one of the first to sign up.
She still wouldn’t pass up a free meal if it appeared on her doorstep. From how easily Wright fell under her thrall, he was betting Debbie had already figured which vein she was going to tap first before Colt gave him his protection.
If he laid a claim over the human, there wasn’t one Para in the whole Bumptown who would mess with him.
Good thing that Colt wasn’t expecting any kind of gratitude from Wright. As Debbie waved again—for real this time—before flouncing back inside her cozy, little house, Wright finally realized that he could control his own legs again.
He immediately stormed over to where Colt was waiting for him. He didn’t lay a hand on him, which proved that Wright had learned one thing at least, but it was clear from his murderous expression that he really, really wanted to.
“What’re you playing at, Wolfe? You trying to tell me that she was a Nightwalker?”
“Nope.”
“I saw the fangs. She was definitely something.” He gave his head a clearing shake, the daze slowly fading from his glassy eyes. “As soon as she opened the door, I couldn’t move. I wanted to go inside. No way is that normal. If she wasn’t a vampire, then maybe she was using magic on me. But her fangs…”
Colt couldn’t help himself. Wright sounded so lost, so confused, but that didn’t stop Colt from remembering that derisive your kind that Wright had thrown at him.
“Maybe you should’ve asked to see her P.I.D. since you obviously can’t tell the difference between a vampire and a witch.” With a hint of a smirk, he added, “First tip? Just because someone’s got fangs, it doesn’t automatically make them a Para. Could just be some pretty interesting dentistry.”
Wright scowled, finally catching on. “You’ve been fucking with me.”
“Nope. Only proving a point.” Waving his finger, Colt gestured at the sunlight around them. “Second tip? If you think you’re dealing with a vamp and it’s bright as all hell out, it’s definitely a Dayborn. They’re the only ones who can stand the sunlight. Nightwalkers are the stronger of the species except when it comes to the sun. It can literally turn them to ash. So if you want to go hunting for Nightwalkers? You’re gonna have to wait until the sun goes down.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Don’t worry, Wright. I’ll make sure to remind you. Since we’re gonna be hunting this Nightwalker together.”
For a second, Wright looked like he was about to argue. But then he threw a look back at Debbie’s Lair, Sweet, Lair banner hanging over her door, at the black roses growing in her garden, and he swallowed roughly.
“I guess we are.”
* * *
Just because they wanted to go hunting for the Nightwalker threat, it wasn’t so easy as that.
Without any tips, leads, or, thank Alpha, more victims, there wasn’t anything for Colt to do after he made his point. He wasn’t a real police officer so, while Wright went off to do whatever it was the Ant
did on his own time—and he was sure it involved cursing the Wolfe brothers’ names to hell and back by now—Colt decided to return to his work shed.
In the last few months, he’d spent nearly all of his time locked inside it. It was perfect for him. A massive shed that stood behind his home, with wide bay windows, enough space to fit his saw, the table with his stains, a pegboard for all of his tools, and storage for finished pieces, Colt regarded it as his second home. It was the only place he could find any peace.
So long as he had a commission to work on, he could keep his mind off of everything else that was going wrong in his world. Since delivering Shea’s dresser—and after recovering from Cilla’s spell—Colt had built and carved and created at least twenty pieces. Rocking chairs, cabinets, a couple of elaborate bookshelves, plus at least five coffee tables.
People really seemed into their coffee tables these days.
In fact, Colt was reading over a recent work order for another coffee table, debating whether he thought he could get it done in time before Wright came back with something for him to do. He’d just finished putting the last coat of lacquer on a pair of high-backed stools earlier that afternoon and was ready to find something else to distract him.
He thought about summoning Dodge before giving up on that idea. That was just inviting trouble. Dodge would try to talk him into going to check in on Shea. Still feeling the burn of her rejection after she told him not to come back, Colt would refuse to.
Staying away from her was the best thing for both of them. Shea needed her distance while she worked on finding the right spell to break their bond. And if Colt kept sniffing around her, he might forget why it was so important for her to do that.
He ran his gaze over the printed e-mail again. The client had a very straightforward piece in mind: a low table with curved sides and a sheet of frosted glass inlaid on the top. He liked that added detail. It allowed him to be a little more creative than just working with wood.
That sold him. Clipping the accepted order onto the board hanging at eye-level for just that purpose, Colt was reaching for his safety goggles when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
His heart leaped into his throat.
Shea?
