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Colt’s fangs punched out at the same time as his claws unsheathed. Hunching his shoulders, ready to shift if the fight called for it, Colt spun around, covering Shea with his back.
It was a Nightwalker. Had to be. The Dayborn vamps
preferred to go out during the day, bunking down when their turned brethren were out on the hunt. He had extended fangs, formerly dark skin, and a pair of silver eyes that gleamed since, unlike most Nightwalkers, this corpse wasn’t wearing the trademark shades.
For some reason, that pissed him off.
“Who the hell are you?”
From behind him, Colt heard Shea’s gasp, followed by her whisper.
“Rafe.”
The Nightwalker—Rafe—looked past Colt, his unearthly gaze locked on Shea.
“What are you doing with him?” he sneered, addressing the witch. “Don’t you know what he is?”
“What I am? What the fuck do you think I am?”
Rafe ignored him. “This shifter is a threat to all of us. Did you know? He’s working with the Ants, with their government and their police, to destroy all Paras.”
“I’m not trying to take down all Paras,” Colt shot back. “Just the killer corpses who’ve been draining their donors and leaving bodies all over town.”
“What? Colton, what are you talking about? Wait—the cop at the club? You’re working with him?”
He could hear the incredulity in Shea’s voice and realized that, after he pulled her out of Bloodlust, he never actually explained what he was doing there. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to go into details. Not when he had an unknown threat in front of him and a witch to protect.
As soon as he got rid of the Nightwalker, they’d have to have a chat. And while Colt was willing to tell her all about his recruitment into the Grayson PD task force, he was more than interested in finding out just how she knew this vamp.
Rafe pointed at Shea, showing off his black Nightwalker claw. “Julian felt the effect of the first blood exchange take. He wanted to make sure that his betrothed was recovering since it can take a lot out of a non-Nightwalker. How am I to tell him that I’ve found you here with him?”
It was nippy out. Full-on December. Colt was in his glory this time of year, but he jerked and shivered, a chill running down his spine as that one word seemed to lodge in his brain.
Betrothed.
As a predator, he didn’t dare look away in case Rafe decided that meant he won the challenge. A rumble started low in his chest before tearing out of his throat. “Betrothed?” he echoed, throwing the word behind him. “Shea, what the fuck does he mean, your ‘betrothed’?”
“Colt, listen, I—”
Rafe bared his fangs over at Colt. If it wasn’t for Shea being tucked right behind him, he would’ve shifted on the spot and lunged right for the Nightwalker. And that, he understood in the back of his mind, was the first time he’d ever controlled his temper long enough to keep from jumping into a fight.
Because Colt was angry, sure, but he was more than that.
He was a shifter who needed to stake his claim.
So when the Nightwalker hissed and demanded to know who Colt was, he had only one answer for him:
“Colton Wolfe, asshole. And Shea is my mate.”
“I am?” Shea asked.
“She is?” Rafe’s face twisted, showing off his fangs as he stared in open disgust. “You’re bonded to this… this dog?”
“Um, no.”
Colt growled.
“What? I’m not. You know I’m not.”
