Hungry Like a Wolf (Claws Clause Book 1)

by Jessica Lynch

  Right.

  Maddox heard the snort. Colt knew he did, just like Mad’s shifter hearing would’ve picked up on the door opening, closing, then locking. He pretended he didn’t, though, the other man refusing to lift his head, leaving it bowed, his chin tucked into his chest as if he were praying.

  Colt’s hands flexed, deadly claws unsheathing all of the way without a sound.

  It did a number on him, seeing his older brother like this. He always left the Cage with the urge to hunt down whoever was responsible for turning a once proud wolf into this sad, sorry shadow of a man.

  Too bad that there was no one to blame. The Claws Clause said Maddox had to choose, yeah, but he never should’ve been forced to make that decision in the first place. It all came down to one terrible night, fucking awful bad luck, and that bitch, Mother Nature. How did you fight against that?

  Of course, that was before this morning. Now… now he knew better.

  2

  The lighting was surprisingly brighter than the back halls, especially when he took the coarse, solid, pale walls that surrounded the room into account. Still no windows, but the wattage in the overhead lights was almost blinding.

  Between the cameras, the lack of shadows, and the glass partition that was doubly as warded as the one protecting Wright, Colt couldn’t come nearer than two feet to his brother. No doubt that level of security was why the cops felt comfortable leaving them “alone”.

  That, and the locked door. Colt didn’t have to check it out to guess that the knob was also enchanted. Like everything else, the audible click of the lock was just one more reminder. If he tried grabbing that handle without Bennett’s keys in the lock, he’d singe all of the fur off his paw.

  And it wasn’t like he needed the reminder that his brother was a dangerous alpha wolf. Even through the thick glass that separated them, he could feel the overwhelming presence and strength of Maddox’s more dominant beast.

  Colt only submitted before two males—his older brother and their father—and his own wolf was whining inside of his head in confusion. Rather than meet his gaze and assert his authority as Alpha, Maddox kept his head down which meant that Colt’s wolf was torn between either lying on its belly in submission or snapping its teeth in challenge.

  After all of these years, it was getting harder and harder to heed the hierarchy in their pack. Colt might only visit Maddox monthly because his brother asked that of him. He had to admit that he agreed for purely selfish reasons.

  The rational part of Colt’s brain—the man part—knew that Maddox was still suffering from the pain of losing his mate. But it wasn’t just that. As Colt stayed back, waiting for Maddox to acknowledge him, his eyes narrowed on the thick collar locked around his brother’s throat.

  The silver collar.

  He hated that damn thing. And he knew there was no way he could get it off of Maddox, even if he somehow got past the glass. He’d burn his hands raw anyway because it was right.

  The blazing light from above flashed against the gleaming metal, mocking him.

  Fucking silver. And the humans called his kind monsters.

  So what if the inside of the collar was treated to keep from burning a shifter’s skin? It never worked. The outside was pure silver, potent and terrible enough to not only keep Maddox trapped in his human skin, but to weaken him significantly. No wonder Colt’s beast wanted to take Maddox’s role in the pack. The silver was messing with him almost as much as it was draining Maddox.

  Too soon. This visit was too soon. Colt’s shoulders jerked and hunched, his body primed to shift. It was a hard fight to push back. The tendons on his arms stretched and his feet arched off of the ground seconds before he slammed his full weight back on the tile. He huffed and grunted, relaxing only when he felt his human form settle back into place.

  That’s when Maddox finally decided to look up.

  Hell.

  No matter how many times Colt saw him like this, it always took him by surprise.

  Maddox was a big man, standing a couple of inches taller than his younger brother and Colt was no slouch. But the pounds fell away from him the first year in the Cage and he never managed to gain many back. He looked older than his thirty years, his skin paler than its normal tanned hue, his hollow face creased with worry and despair. His once vibrant eyes were dull, as were his blunt human teeth.

  His face was expressionless, as if at first he didn’t recognize his visitor, then he couldn’t be bothered when he did.

  “Oh. It’s you again.” Maddox’s brow furrowed. “Hang on. It hasn’t been a month yet, has it?”

  Colt kept his hands curled into his fists at his side as he shook his head. His damn near miraculous discovery couldn’t have come at a better time. Maddox might not have chosen to be put down after the accident. The result would end up being the same since the Cage sure as hell was killing his brother.

  Maddox huffed. “Didn’t think so.”

  His voice was hoarse and listless. That wasn't new. It was all part of the sad, sorry routine. Maddox went through the motions during Colt’s monthly visits, knowing that as soon as he did, Colt would leave him alone to his misery.

  Since he lost his mate, that was all he had left—or wanted.

  Not for the first time, Colt was fucking grateful he hadn't found the one woman meant for him. If this was what he had to look forward to if he ever lost her, he'd much rather never find her in the first place.

  “The pack all right?” Maddox asked. Just like he always asked. At least he still cared that much.

  “Pack’s fine.”

  “Dad okay?”

  He didn't bother wasting any words to ask after their mother. Both brothers understood that, so long as their father was still kicking, Sarah Wolfe was safe and sound. The day something happened to her, they'd be digging two graves.

  “Old bastard’s still hanging in there,” Colt said with a hint of a wistful smile.

  Their father was the most ornery old bastard he knew, but his wolf was undefeated. He wasn’t kidding when he said Terrence Wolfe was hanging in there. Colt believed his father lived on spite and the desire to kick ass until his oldest son was back with the pack. Once that happened, Terrence could finally step down to retire someplace remote and wooded with his mate.

  Every predatory shifter in the state knew that Maddox was supposed to be the pack’s next Alpha… only he couldn’t do that while he was stuck in the Cage. Enterprising shifters had tried to challenge Terrence and failed. Their father decided three years ago that he would lead the pack until he died or Maddox got out. Up until that morning, Colt didn’t see either of those things happening any time soon.

  But now—

  That wiped the smile off of Colt’s face. “Listen to me, Maddox. I… look. There’s no easy way to say this so I'm gonna just spit it out. Okay?”

  When he received a listless shrug for an answer, Colt realized that that was the best he was going to get. He took a second to brace himself. On a shudder, he said, “I’ve come about Evangeline.”

  Maddox stiffened, strung as tight as tension wire. It was a knee-jerk reaction whenever someone dared to say her name out loud. Colt knew that well.

  At least he had his brother’s attention now.

  “What about her?”

  The entire ride back to the Cage, Colt tried to figure out the best way to tell his brother what he had accidentally discovered. But he’d never been all that good with words, and he hated wasting time beating around the bush, so, in true Colton Wolfe fashion, he was honest, brash, and to the point.

  “Your mate isn’t dead.”

  And there it was. A sudden spark in his gold-colored eyes that said, no matter how deeply buried it was, the old Maddox was still in there somewhere.

  Instinct hit Colt like a sledgehammer. He immediately lowered his gaze, watching the way Maddox’s hands flexed and cracked. He subtly tilted his head to the right and offered his throat. Colt was an alpha wolf, damn it, and even he recognized
the danger rolling off of his brother.

  “Say that again,” whispered Maddox.

  “She's not dead.” Colt purposely made his voice as gentle as possible. Rousing Maddox's beast, probably not the smartest plan. Sure, the collar kept him from shifting, and the Para-proof glass kept them separated.

  Tell that to his whining wolf.

  His brother’s answer was halfway between a snort and a snarl. Flecks of spit dotted the glass when he snapped out, “Bullshit.”

  “I saw her myself this morning, then rushed here to make sure you knew first thing. And, let me tell you, she's got too much color to be a ghost. She's got a pulse. A scent. She’s fucking alive.”

  A warning grumble started deep in Maddox's chest. “Stop lying to me.”

  Colt’s wolf demanded he obey the Alpha’s command. He was, though—he just needed to convince Maddox of that fact.

  “You know I would never lie to you.”

  “No. What I know is that my Angie is dead. Gone. Trying to convince me otherwise is an insult to her memory and to me. Now get the fuck out of here before I make you. And if you know what’s good for you, don’t come back.”

  Colt bristled. Okay. Sure. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. It still stung that Maddox thought him capable of lying about this.

  Trying hard to hold onto his temper, he stayed where he was. Until Maddox got it through his thick head—or Bennett returned to drag him out—Colt wasn’t going anywhere.

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “First I scented her, then I saw her—”

  Maddox’s growl raised in pitch.

  “It’s the fucking truth!”

  His brother snapped his pathetic human teeth. “Don't make me tell you again.”

  Colt sank down onto the stool opposite of his brother. Though he was careful not to make any eye contact that could be taken as a challenge, he wanted Maddox to see his earnestness. “Listen to me. I wouldn't have come all the way back here and fucked with you like this if I wasn't a hundred percent positive it was her.”

  “She—”

  “I can't explain it, I don't know what the hell is going on, but Evangeline is abso-fucking-lutely alive. You know I’m telling the truth. It’s your mate, Maddox. You can trust me on this.”

  Colt poured as much sincerity into his words as he could. He didn't need to have a mate to understand that there were just some things you didn't screw around with.

  The growl subsided at last. Colt dropped his gaze, waiting for Maddox to process the bombshell that had just gotten dropped on him. When enough time had passed and his brother was still eerily silent, Colt peered up through the thick fringe of his eyelashes, watching him through the glass. Maddox had to believe him. He had to.

  It took a couple of tense minutes full of heavy breathing and wild eyes for Maddox to finally digest what Colt had said. In the end, he must have realized that Colt was probably the only one he could trust right now.

  Maddox shook his head, the quiet broken up by a keening whine that escaped from the broken man on the other side of the glass. Colt understood, his own wolf anxious to answer his Alpha’s mournful call.

  Because if Colt wasn’t lying… he could see the struggle play out on Maddox’s weathered face.

  “No… she… then that means—”

  Colt exhaled roughly. “That your mate is out there. And she is. I swear it.”

  He didn't expect it to sink in right away. Colt might be a heartless bastard when it came to the idea of mates, but the bond he shared with Maddox was just as sacred. He could feel his brother’s pain, and the blossoming hope that maybe the impossible had happened.

  Three years was a long time to mourn and grieve; it wasn't easy to turn that off like a switch just because Colt had told him that Evangeline was miraculously still alive. But when he did understand, Colt expected Maddox to be anxious and happy and desperate to get back to his mate.

  What he got instead was unbridled fury.

  Before Colt could even react, Maddox surged to his feet, pounding the flats of his palms against the wards on the glass. Though it didn’t shatter, the glass did shake which told Colt that Maddox was even angrier than that. Rage spilled out of him like fire. Unwilling to pour any gas on it, Colt got up from his stool and took a hesitant step away.

  “What the—”

  “Fuck me!” Maddox roared. He smashed at the glass again.

  Colt jumped back, landing in a crouch, sparing a glance behind him before facing the obvious threat in front of him. He expected one of the Cage cops to barge in at any second. He couldn't have that. If he didn't calm Maddox down, his brother might be tranqed.

  Remembering the silver bullets in Bennett’s gun, Colt gulped.

  “Mad, you gotta cool it,” he cautioned.

  “Cool it? How? She's not just out there, she’s alone! My mate’s all alone while I'm dicking around in here. Fuck me!”

  The roar that tore out of his collared throat was completely animalistic, both a demand and a plea from Maddox’s caged beast.

  It finally dawned on the frantic shifter that smacking the glass partition wasn’t getting him anywhere. Before Colt could cry out another warning, Maddox reached up and grabbed the silver collar around his neck. Colt immediately smelled the acrid stench of burning flesh as Maddox's fingers pried at the untreated silver that protected the collar. If his brother felt any pain, though, he didn't show it. He yanked and pulled and twisted as Colt howled at him to stop.

  Where the fuck were the cops in this place? Forget the protection spell—too much exposure to the raw silver could kill Maddox.

  He thought about all of the damn cameras covering this room. Someone had to be watching this scene with Colt as Maddox struggled with the collar on the opposite side of Para-proof glass. And there wasn’t a damn thing Colt could do to stop him.

  It wasn't until Maddox burned away nearly all of the skin from his fingers and his palms that his rage finally ran out and he seemed to give up. Knees buckling as he toppled over, he barely landed on the stool, panting heavily as his head hung in defeat.

  Colt realized he was breathing just as hard, his claws digging deeply into his palms. Rivulets of blood dripped, dripped, dripped onto the pristine floor.

  There wasn't a single mark on the fucking collar.

  “That was stupid,” Colt spat out harshly. He snuffled, trying to get rid of the stink. It didn't work. And that made him angrier—which only made him more reckless. What was Maddox thinking? “The power of that collar could've killed you. You're no good to Evangeline dead, Maddox. You know that.”

  Maddox kept his head bowed as he mumbled something.

  Screw his enhanced shifter senses. All Colt could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the erratic thrum of his heart.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Despite the power of the collar, when Maddox met Colt’s fierce gaze, Colt was looking back into the glowing, golden gaze of Maddox’s wolf. And that, more than anything else, calmed him.

  Snarling, Maddox repeated himself —

  “I said, get me the fuck out of here.”

  3

  Evangeline Lewis was a creature of habit. She had to be. It was the only way she could hold on to her sanity.

  Every morning her alarm went off at precisely 7:35 a.m. After she negotiated with it for another eighteen minutes—two complete snooze cycles—she shoved her covers back, stumbled into her bathroom, and took a piping hot shower.

  On mornings when she slept soundly through the night, her shower was quick; ten minutes, tops. Then there were the flashbacks to her accident when she stayed underneath the spray until the water turned cold, hoping to finally rinse the lingering aches and pains and bad memories down the drain.

  And then there were the mornings after he visited her dreams.

  Evangeline had no idea who he was. The same tall, dark, menacing figure had a starring role in her nighttime fantasies—and, she secretly admitted, they were fantasies. Despite how graphic and vivid th
ose dreams were, she never saw his face. He was always hidden in the shadows.

  The only things she ever remembered were a pair of glowing golden eyes and strong, calloused hands that were surprisingly gentle and amazingly wicked.

  Those mornings? Nothing less than an ice-cold shower would cool her down before she could start her day.

  After she was dressed and ready, she checked her e-mail and assessed her workload as she ate breakfast. If it was a light day, she gave herself until noon to take a walk around town and get any errands done; if she was coming up on a deadline, she made sure she was back at her apartment by eleven. Evangeline was new to Grayson, having only moved to the predominantly human community at the beginning of the spring. She was still finding her way around and enjoyed taking her daily walks around its small downtown area.

  Evangeline was grateful to be able to work from home. She was an editor for a small publishing house, one who communicated mainly through e-mail. Her boss would shoot over the manuscripts she was assigned; so long as she finished her edits on time, no one cared where she did her work. It was such a change of pace from the hectic position she held at another agency before her accident. The sky-high office building in Woodbridge was always so frantic and busy. In Grayson, things seemed calmer.

  Just what she needed.

  Though there were quite a few leftovers from the accident—her dreams, a constant headache, the twinge in her right hip that wouldn’t go away—her enjoyment for her work was the same as before. Evangeline lost herself in her edits for hours each day until 6:30 when she closed the lid on her laptop and made herself a quick dinner.

  And it had to be quick. Because, at 7:00 every night like clockwork, Naomi Lewis called her daughter for her daily check-in and, as Evangeline learned a few months ago, if she didn’t eat before that phone call, she wouldn't be eating at all.

  Sometimes, she thought wryly, that was one part of her routine that made her question her sanity.

  Evangeline knew her mother would call. She always did. If Evangeline didn’t answer her the first time, she dialed twice more before she convinced herself that there was some sinister reason behind her daughter’s silence. God forbid Naomi leave a message on Evangeline’s voicemail, or wonder if perhaps her adult daughter was too busy to answer the phone.