No Way: Colton & Shea (Claws Clause Book 1.75)

by Jessica Lynch

  No Way

  a Claws Clause short

  Jessica Lynch

  Copyright © 2020 by Jessica Lynch

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Jessica Lynch

  Contents

  Prologue

  I. Colton

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  II. Shea

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

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  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Lynch

  Prologue

  On the subject of settlements:

  It is unlawful for any person, Paranormal or Human, to be denied housing based on their status.

  Should a settlement arise where there is a delineation between Paranormal and Human populations, state and local laws apply to residents regardless of their address.

  In the event of certain settlements where the population exceeds 100 Paranormals with a representative from each of the five main sects onsite (Shifter, Phantom, Vampire, Witch, and Othersider), a duly notarized Bonding office must be provided to ease the issuing of “Bonding Licenses” and other duties not performed at the nearest Department of Paranormal Regulation (or D.P.R.).

  — Ordinance 7304

  Section VI

  Part I

  Colton

  1

  Colton Wolfe had a… a thing about witches.

  Okay. That might be putting it a little mildly since he fucking hated them.

  Was it rational? No. Probably not. But he was a paranormal. A wolf shifter, to be precise, an alpha-born who was more than happy to sit back and play the role of beta in his father’s motley pack of predatory shifters. Way he saw it, rational flew out the window long before Paras were forced to expose themselves to the human world.

  Ants? He could handle them with one paw tied behind his back.

  Corpses? Dayborns were harmless, and if a Nightwalker wanted to stalk him, Colt’s wolf was always game for a round of “hunt the meat”.

  Phantoms? Shit, his best pal was a ghost who’d been murdered in the late 19th century. Phantoms were all right.

  But witches?

  No fucking way.

  As far back as he could remember, there was something about the magic-users, the diamond fiends that just made his fur stand on end. When he was younger, it was tough to put his claw on the why of it, though the fact that his brute strength and, well, his claws couldn’t do shit against a powerful spell was probably up there.

  And then Maddox got thrown in a Cage...

  Now, three years after the accident that nearly killed Maddox and Evangeline, his brother’s mate, Colt had a pretty damn good reason to hate witches—and only part of it had to do with his suspicion that one particular witch was the cause behind Mad’s truck careening off the side of the mountain.

  His whole life, Colt lived a very “us” vs. “them” kind of existence. For the most part, the “us” referred to shifters, specifically wolf, though he had an allowance for all of the other members of his pack. Once he got stuck with Dodge—and since the ghost had been haunting him since he was barely a pup, stuck was right—Colt sided with the phantoms. Hell, as long as a Para was proudly a Para, he was good.

  Witches, though? They were like humans plus, and, in his experience, the greedy, diamond-loving spellcasters always landed in the “them” pile. From the first second he stepped into the Cage and discovered it was warded and enchanted to be absolutely Para-proof, he was done.

  His resentment only grew the longer Maddox spent behind bars. During his brother's incarceration, Colt only visited him once a month, but that monthly visit was always torture. Between seeing what losing his mate did to Maddox, to the cramped, sterile prison, and the crackle of magic that filled the place, if it wasn’t for his loyalty to his brother, he would’ve never gone back.

  Now that Maddox was finally on his way out again—thanks to Colt stumbling upon a very much alive Evangeline more than a month ago—Colt had another reason to despise the magic users.

  Somebody had broken the human woman.

  Colt’s older brother had spent the last three years convinced his beloved human mate was dead. Not because he saw her broken body, but because he felt the painful snap of their severed bond in the aftermath of the car crash.

  That snap nearly killed Maddox. What the crash failed to do, losing his mate just about accomplished.

  The Claws Clause was immediately invoked that terrible night. As a bonded shifter without his mate, Maddox had three choices: voluntary incarceration at a paranormal prison until he was rehabilitated; a lobotomy-like procedure performed by government-employed witches that would dissolve the remaining half of his bond; or a state-sanctioned execution so that he could be with his mate again.

  For reasons Colt would never understand, Maddox chose the Cage.

  Only Evangeline hadn’t died. She was alive—and it appeared as if she didn’t remember a damn thing about her life with Maddox. She certainly didn’t recognize Colt when he tracked her to that Grayson convenience store last month.

  There was only one way to sever a bond like that, making one mate forget the other while also convincing an alpha wolf shifter and his beast that their mate was dead.

  Magic.

  Fucking witches.

  Colt was dreading the moment when Maddox figured that out. Right now, his determined brother was probably stalking the length of his cell, waiting for his release from the Cage to be finalized so that he could get out and finally go after his Evangeline’s trail.

  He only hoped Mad had better luck. To his frustration, Colt hadn’t been able to pick it up since the first time he had all those weeks ago.

  Stumbling on Evangeline was an accident, too. With Grayson being the nearest big city to his Bumptown, he would sometimes take the ride out and drop off a couple of fliers advertising his business. To drum up some commissions… that was really one of the only reasons why he’d ever willingly go out among the Ants.

  It was his personal biz, too. Colt’s day job was as an architect for his father’s construction company. His duty was to the pack. His passion, though? That was building furniture by hand and selling it for a shit ton of money.

  Grayson was a mixed town: both humans and Paras lived there. When it came to charging exorbitant prices to anyone interested in his work, he had no problem upping the price for anyone who wasn’t Pack.

  His furniture pieces were certainly worth it. Colt would spend weeks at a time on an individual piece, building it, carving it, staining it to a client’s specifications. He’d work late into the night in his shed out back, earning every dime with his anal-retentive attention to detail, plus his unparalleled craftsmanship.

  Apart from fattening his bank account, it also helped him focus. His dedication to his “hobby” was a way for him to work through some of his wolf’s more violent urges. Colt had a temper. He wouldn’t deny that. When he was a pup, he spent more time in his fur than out of it; as an adult, he channeled his beast’s rage, teaching himself control as he hammered away in his work shed.

  Which was where he wished he was right now…

  If there was a downside to working so hard on a piece, it was that
eventually he finished it and then, gulp, the client actually wanted to own it.

  So he had to let them have it.

  Right now, it was early. June could could be brutal and, as an arctic wolf shifter, Colt didn’t want to be out longer than he had to. So he was currently in his delivery van—and not because he planned on offering his truck up to Mad when the Cage guards finally sprung him from his cell. Before he got roped into helping his brother acclimate to life on the outside again, Colt decided to risk taking a few hours for himself to make a very important delivery.

  That just so happened to be in Grayson.

  In between attending hearings, consulting the pack’s lawyers, and working his tail off to track down Evangeline again to save his brother some trouble, Colt had a secret of his own. And today, delivering the dresser he’d poured his heart and soul into creating these last few weeks, was the moment of truth.

  Today, he discovered if there was a reason he had felt compelled to do just that.

  2

  There was a spot in front of the shop in downtown Grayson, almost as if she was waiting for him. Which was probably the case, since he’d promised to have the dresser delivered that morning.

  Just a routine delivery, Colt told himself as he slid into the spot and killed the engine. That’s all. A routine delivery, he repeated, throwing open the van’s back doors and grabbing the dolly stowed inside effortlessly with one hand.

  Grayson might bill itself as a mixed town. Tolerance and acceptance and all that kumbaya crap.

  Yeah, right.

  Colt had spent enough time roaming the streets to know by now that not only did the population lean heavily toward humans, but most of them were pretty anti-Para. No point taking chances.

  He snagged the dolly because he didn’t need some trumped-up Ant giving him shit for being a shifter. After carefully easing the dresser onto the dolly, he used it to ferry the piece of furniture toward the shop’s back entrance instead of just using his brute strength to carry it himself like he normally would.

  As soon as he reached the shipment door, Colt was about to knock and announce his presence when a soft female voice reached his sensitive hearing.

  It was his client, and she was talking to someone. A customer? Couldn’t be, he decided, after a couple of exchanges made him realize she wasn’t just talking—she was arguing. Not angrily, more resigned, and since he couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, he assumed she was on the phone.

  He had just lifted his fist again when her voice raised enough to steal the rest of his attention.

  “Hudson, you were supposed to help me move the dresser across the store. The delivery guy’s here—” A pause. “How do I know? I saw the van pull up. Where are you?” She paused again, obviously listening to this Hudson guy on the other end, then let out a soft sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve— right. Later on. Okay. Bye.”

  Colt waited until he thought he picked up on a small, nearly indiscernible, definitely defeated sigh before he propped the dolly and the dresser on the ground, gritted his teeth, and pounded on the shipment door.

  A surprised squeak, followed by footsteps dashing across the floor.

  “Hang on! I’ll be right there!”

  This was the moment of truth.

  Over the last month, between helping Maddox with his appeal and his determined search for his brother’s mate, Colt had wondered if his strange attraction to the faceless proprietor of this shop was anything more than a weird quirk of his instincts.

  That happened to wolves like him. When his wolf showed every sign that it was an alpha male but his position in the hierarchy shoe-horned him into a beta position, sometimes signals got crossed, they were mixed, and his wolf rebelled.

  His own situation left Colt with a hair-trigger temper and a stubborn streak he couldn’t break. Only his absolute devotion to his father—and then his brother—as his Alpha kept Colt from going either lone wolf or—even worse—rabid.

  The day he accidentally stumbled upon Evangeline in Grayson, he’d been papering the city with fliers advertising his work. He’d hoped to find a commission that could distract him while the Cage warden worked on cutting through the bullshit red tape that kept Maddox locked up.

  He had. A couple, actually. He let any prospective clients contact him through e-mail, then picked the project that interested him the most.

  Shea Moonshadow, the owner of a hippie-type shop called Moonshadow Apothecary in Grayson, was looking to have an intricate dresser built to showcase her crystals. In her request, she had asked him about a glass enclosure on the top, plus padding in the drawers, and offered to pay upfront.

  Because of that detail, he chose the job. He’d been regretting it ever since.

  Colt had a suspicion that he was working super fucking hard to ignore. It was too ludicrous to be true, especially for a wolf who went against the rest of his pack when he insisted that believing in fate was a waste of damn time.

  Drop it off, get the check, get out of there. That’s all he had to do. Drop it off, get the check—

  The back door swung open, revealing a slender woman with a head of blue-black loose curls, the loveliest brown eyes, and skin a few shades darker than Colt’s. The top of her head came up to his neck and she had to gaze upward to meet his guarded expression.

  And… she was gorgeous.

  Of course she was.

  That was the first thing he noticed. The second, though?

  Her scent was… weak. Barely there. Breathing in deep through his nose, Colt thought he caught a hint of something woodsy, something earthy, but that might’ve been the competing scents eking out of her shop messing with his shifter senses. He couldn’t tell.

  And that bothered him more than he could explain even to himself.

  Before he could wonder about that, the dark-haired beauty smiled up at him. “Good afternoon.”

  At just those two words, without any barrier between them, Colt wanted to close his eyes and stretch out on the floor, baring his throat while lying at her feet.

  Damn it. He should’ve let one of his packmates make this delivery for him. When he was looking forward to showing the dresser off, he should’ve known he was in over his head then.

  Hell.

  It was her voice. Soft and sweet and a little bit breathy, it had done something to him over the phone. From the first call when he initially contacted her to finalize plans for his payment to the times he couldn’t stop himself from getting back to her with unnecessary updates on her piece, Colt’s wolf seemed to stop its agitated stalking inside his chest whenever he spoke to her.

  So maybe he made far more calls than he needed to. He let himself believe it had everything to do with his high standards, and not the sinking suspicion that this woman might just be—

  “Ms. Moonshadow?”

  “Yup. That’s me. Hi!”

  “Colton Wolfe,” he barked out. “I’m supposed to be dropping this off for you today.”

  He purposely didn’t tell her that he was the guy who painstakingly made the elaborate dresser. It wasn’t just this woman—he never revealed the truth to anyone he accepted commissions from. Most clients had an idea of what the man who created his pieces should look like and, yeah, it wasn’t a clean-shaven, boyish-looking shifter with dimples and bright blue eyes.

  He’d learned that a couple of years back when he started selling his work on the side. And it wasn’t just that, either. Colt chose to use his name when he was arranging for payment plus delivery because, to him, that’s when the man was in charge. He liked to think of his animal nature as his creative side. To prove it, at the bottom of each and every piece he’d ever created, he signed it with a paw print.

  He wondered if she would ever find it. His wolf hoped that she did.

  Colt gestured at the dresser. “Here you go.”

  Her eyes went wide when she took in the mahogany stain, the flowers and decorations he hand-carved along the front, the glass enclosure he built and
attached to the top.

  Gaping up at him, she asked softly, “This is mine?”

  He jerked his head. A nod.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I’ll tell my boss you said so.”

  “It’s worth every penny he charges. You can tell him that, too.”

  Another nod. “Where would you like me to put this?”

  “You can leave it right there. Thanks. Now, about payment—” she began.

  Drop it off, get the check, get out of there. Drop it off—

  “I’m here to deliver this to you. That means you tell me where you want it and I make sure it gets there. It’s part of my boss’s service,” he added, lying through his pointy teeth.

  It was totally a lie. Not only was he continuing to let her believe that Colt’s business wasn’t a one-shifter operation, but he certainly never troubled himself to get his deliveries any further than the doorstep.

  He couldn’t help himself, though. She was small and the dresser was heavy. He was a shifter, but he wasn’t a monster.

  So distracted by this urge he had to prove it to his client, Colt forgot that he was using the dolly to put her at ease. The shop was cramped and full of way too many scents that were still overpowering hers. He didn’t want to risk pushing the wide, metal contraption through her store. Wrapping his arms around the top of the tall dresser, Colt hefted it up easily.

  “You tell me where to deliver it. I’ll deliver it.”

  “Really?” Her whole face lit up in gratitude. “Thank you so much. I actually had someone who promised to help me move it in, but he’s kinda busy at the moment. This is such a big help and—”