Sunglasses at Night

by Jessica Lynch

  Didn’t matter. Carrying Tabby with him, he turned his back on the others, trying like hell to figure out what he was supposed to do next.

  “Colton? Colt! Stop that.” Slapping sounds. “Put me down!”

  A growl from somewhere behind him. “Not on your life.”

  “She needs help!”

  “Help her from here. Look at him. That bitch went after his woman. He might deny who she is to him, but the nose fucking knows, alright? He likes you, Shea, but I’m not betting your life that he won’t lash out at you right now.”

  Colt had a point. Adam hated having to admit it, but the shifter was right.

  Some part of him wanted to deny that Tabby was his. After the way he felt like she betrayed him, he had to acknowledge that this—whatever it was they had together—was probably more one-sided than he liked. She never hid the fact that she was in it for the sex, for the experience. He was the dumbass who let his heart get involved.

  Holding her, watching the blood trickle from her throat, was like someone had ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it. He wasn’t mad at her anymore. He didn’t even see her blood and ache for a taste.

  He just wanted her to be okay.

  He was in a fog. A cloud. Nothing made sense. Everything boiled down to him and Tabby, and though something beat at his brain, he couldn’t focus enough to understand what it was that he was neglecting.

  A familiar voice. A sweet voice. It reached him through the blood-red haze. Still clutching Tabby like a lifeline, he surfaced just long enough to realize that someone was calling him.

  “Adam? Listen to me. Adam! You have to stop her from bleeding, okay?”

  “How? I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do! I’m not a doctor, Shea.”

  “No, but you’re a Nightwalker. Your kind can heal. Use your tongue on the wounds. Trust me. It’ll work.”

  He physically recoiled before turning to face the witch. It didn’t seem right, tasting Tabby’s blood like this. He didn’t trust himself. What if he tried to heal her and, instead, he fell prey to bloodlust? He couldn’t risk it.

  “I can’t. Shea, I can’t.”

  It wasn’t fair. The first time had been an accident. He lost control and bit her and, while he regretted the lapse, what was done was done. And maybe he wanted to convince himself that the second time was an accident, too.

  She had some of his blood. No denying that. Was it enough?

  Shea turned to her mate. “If he won’t do it, you have to let me. I’m a healer, Colton. Please.”

  “I know. Alright. Hang on.” Colt took a deep breath, settling himself before he stepped toward Adam. Slowly, he held up his arms. “Okay, pal. Everything’s gonna be alright. Just give her to me.”

  Whirling out his reach, Adam jumped and spun, landing in a defensive crouch more than ten feet away from Colt. Tabby’s head lolled before slamming into his chest. The rhythm of his heart kicked up, another burst of fury coursing through him at his careless treatment of her. Cradling her on his knee, he freed one hand, sliding it up to duck her head against him, securing her.

  Warm blood heated his chilled skin, smearing against his forearm.

  Give her to another man? Even a friend? Yeah. He couldn’t do that, either.

  Colt approached him like he was a wild beast that might be provoked into attacking. Careful. Careful. Edging in on his tiptoes as he crossed the asphalt, his normally blue eyes icing over as his own beast came to the forefront. It wouldn’t come to that—at least Adam hoped it wouldn’t—but Colt was prepared to shift if Adam gave him reason to.

  Still, he moved toward him. He held his arms out. “You can’t help her yourself, Adam. Let Shea. Give me the girl. You don’t want to let her die.”

  That got through to him. Because what if she did die? He didn’t know what that witch hit her with, and even if he killed the vamp who dared bite her before he could hurt her too much, what if she did die? Adam already slipped her some blood once. Was it enough to trigger a turning?

  Being turned into a Nightwalker was the worst thing that ever happened to him. He swore he would never put anyone else through the same fate. Especially Tabby.

  Adam tipped her into Colt’s waiting arms.

  As he raced her back to Shea, Adam snarled. He had the insane urge to go for Colt’s throat. The rational part of him knew that Colt was only bringing her to the healer, but the overwhelming possessiveness winding its way through him pushed him to incapacitate Colt in order to get Tabby back in his arms.

  He had just enough control left to stop himself. Since he wasn’t sure how long it would hold out, he snapped through his aching fangs, “Someone hold me back.”

  “You got it, Wright,” growled Wolfe.

  With a nod toward the still very naked Travis, the two shifters surrounded him. His vamp instincts had him baring his fangs; his humanity forced him to fist his hands at his side, taking his claws out of the equation. He didn’t fight as Wolfe trapped both of Adam’s arms behind his back in an unbreakable hold. Travis threw his shoulder into it, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist, keeping him locked in place.

  Even that was almost not enough.

  Wolfe used all of his brute strength to keep Adam manacled. Colt was smart. As soon as he laid Tabby out on the grass in front of Shea, he backed up and raced over to help contain Adam with only a warning to his mate not to overdo it.

  A magenta glow tinged with purple enveloped Shea as she laid her palm over Tabby’s throat.

  Time seemed to stop while Adam waited to see if the healing would take.

  It wasn’t until Shea let out a soft sigh of relief, resting back on her heels and shooting a thumb’s up over to Adam, that he finally sagged in the shifters’ ironclad hold.

  Tabby was going to be okay.

  Shea stabilized his slayer.

  Thanks to the witch’s potent healing ability, the twin points on Tabby’s throat closed right up; they didn’t even leave a scar. She didn’t wake up right away, but both Shea and Colt assured Adam that that happened sometimes when it was a particularly rough injury. Between the blast of purple power that slammed into Tabby, the shock of the Nightwalker’s bite, and the amount of healing energy that Shea poured into her, her body had simply shut down to recover.

  He understood. Didn’t like it, but he understood.

  All around them, the gore of broken bodies, severed heads, and blood made up the night. The rancid smell of old blood and rotten meat had Adam breathing through his mouth; not out of hunger, though, but because it churned his already uneasy stomach. He could only imagine how bad it was for the shifters and their super sensitive snouts.

  Colt stood at Shea’s back, rubbing circles along her shoulder, gauging if she used one drop of healing energy more than she should have. Like a caged animal, Wolfe prowled back and forth, guarding his domain since he couldn’t reach for his own mate.

  Travis was gone now, too.

  Adam didn’t really give a shit—the jaguar fought well, but he was part of the Eastern Pack and basically a stranger to him—and he initially assumed that the shifter trotted off because the fight was over.

  Nope.

  As soon as Adam had scooped Tabby up again and Colt remarked on his absence, Wolfe told his brother that, as Alpha, he allowed Travis to leave the scene.

  Why? Answer was actually pretty simple. Sometime during the fight, his brain caught up to his nose—and his wayward cock—and Travis realized that Virginia was his fated mate. As he nuzzled Tabby’s throat, eager to sense her pulse and prove to himself that she was still with him, Adam had to admit it made sense. The glimpses he got of the shifted jaguar while they defended against the Nightwalker attack put him between any threat and the witch. He had thought Travis was just being a protector.

  In a way, he was.

  Shit.

  Adam actually felt bad for the guy. Imagine that. You meet your mate during a ruthless confrontation but, before you can tell her so, she runs off after her bounty.
And what did Travis have to do? Hang back and play babysitter to a feral Nightwalker.

  Next time he saw Travis, he’d buy him a beer or something. The few minutes where he stayed behind could have lost him any head start he could’ve used to track down his witch—especially if she was wearing a scent reducer potion.

  But, right now, that was Travis’s problem. Adam’s problem had everything to do with the still woman in his arms. His own protective instincts were in overdrive. He needed to hoard her somewhere safe, watch over her, make sure she came back to him. The urge to flash his fangs at any prospective threat was almost undeniable.

  Even though there were still hours until sunrise, Adam wanted out of the open. Bunkering down with his slayer while he processed everything that happened… it was all he wanted to do.

  Seemed like Wolfe agreed.

  “I need my Angie,” he snarled at no one in particular. He raked his claws through his unruly, thick sandy hair, leaving parts behind. “I need my mate.”

  “We can take my truck,” offered Colt. After proving to himself that Shea’s normally olive-colored skin had gone noticeably pale but, other than that, she was alright, Colt lifted her to her feet, tucking her into his side. “Unless your wolf wants to take the edge off and run back. You might be able to shave a few minutes off the journey. Last time I took the run out to Wolf’s Creek, I did.”

  “Yeah. You’re right, bro.” Wolfe nodded, leaning forward on the balls of his feet, clenching his hands into fists. “Meet you at your place.”

  In a flurry of exploded clothes and a snap, the big shifter transformed into an even bigger grey wolf. His golden eyes took in the four of them—Shea and Colt, Adam and Tabby—before he let out a howl that had Adam bracing his knees so that he didn’t drop his slayer.

  An instant later, Maddox Wolfe had torn behind his empty house, vanishing in the woods that bracketed the cul de sac.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “My place,” Colt answered. “We banked on the fact that Cilla wouldn’t dare step into Para territory to look for Evangeline. Guess we were right.”

  That gave Adam an idea.

  The Bumptown was about the same distance away from Wolf’s Creek as Grayson was, about an hour out in each direction. He could bundle up Tabby, return to his apartment, and watch over her himself—or he could swallow his pride and take the ride into Colt’s territory where he had strong predators to watch his back.

  When he was still a cop, it would’ve been a no-brainer. Having a loyal team at your back was essential. That camaraderie was one of the biggest things he missed since he had quit the force and gone rogue. Was it possible that he finally found something similar?

  Only one way to find out. And if trading his pride for the certainty that Tabby would be safe was something he had to do? It was a small price to pay.

  “Hey. You guys mind if I tag along? I’d like to be close to Shea in case Tabby needs more help.”

  The bonded couple shared a look.

  Shea was the one who nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Besides, by the time we get home again, I’m sure Maddox will be too… um… busy to notice that you’re there.”

  Translation: after the way Priscilla tried to go for his mate, the territorial shifter would have to assure himself that Eva was okay by renewing their bond.

  Once upon a time, Adam would’ve felt a jealous pang at that. Not now. He’d long ago given up hope that Evangeline was meant to be his, and considering the way the shifter doted on her, protected her, loved her, Adam knew he could never compare.

  Looked like fate might’ve gotten it right after all.

  And while they might not ever be friends, not like the way he grew to tolerate, then respect Colt, Adam had to admit that Maddox was perfect for Evangeline.

  Just like Tabby was perfect for him.

  He ran one hand down her clammy cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. If tonight showed him anything, it was that this slayer meant more to him than a good time in the sack.

  Now if only she would wake up again so he could tell her that.

  19

  There was no sign of Evangeline or her brutish mate when they arrived at the Bumptown.

  Well, not inside, at least.

  The moans of pleasure and excited yips told Adam that he was one hundred percent correct in his guess of how Wolfe would need to work off his aggression.

  Again, there was no jealousy. Just want. The sounds of their mating were loud—on purpose, Adam decided, since Wolfe would want to prove to the entire territory that Evangeline was and would always remain his—and, instead of being envious of Wolfe, he wanted nothing more than to be making those same sounds with his Tabby.

  But first he had to make sure she was going to be okay.

  Though Colt offered to bring Tabby with him and Shea, Adam refused to let her out of his sight. So he laid her on the backseat of his coupe, putting boot to the pedal as he cut the hour-long trip down to barely forty minutes. Colt kept on his ass, zipping down the quiet roads, weaving through the limited traffic on the highway, pushing his truck to keep up with Adam and his lead foot.

  They arrived at the Bumptown within minutes of each other. Once Colt led the way to his front door, Adam gathered the still-slumbering Tabby up in his arms as gently as possible, popping the driver’s side door closed with his hip, before eating up the ground between him and Colt’s house.

  The shifter held the door for him, directing him to a spot where Adam could place Tabby down again.

  The smart-alecky Dodge McCoy was haunting the front room when they showed up. Nearly transparent, and wearing a serious expression that was nothing like Adam remembered from the few times he had the “pleasure” of being around Colt’s ghost pal, Dodge zoomed in on Colt as the shifter tugged the door closed behind him.

  Keeping his voice down, so quiet that Adam’s enhanced senses couldn’t even catch a hint of his exaggerated New Yawk accent, Dodge launched right into an intense conversation with Colt. Adam picked up on the nervous movements— the way his ghostly form flickered, the derby Dodge always had on him flipping between his fingers as he turned, turned, turned it in his hands—and decided that Dodge had more important things to worry about than being an ass.

  “Where’s that room again?”

  “Come with me. Let’s get her comfortable and see how she’s doing.”

  Shea led him upstairs. It had to be a guest room. There was the scent of Colt’s animal permeating the entire space, Shea’s woodsy aroma, too, but it was weaker in the neatly furnished room with the royal blue drapes and the dark grey quilt on the bed. A hint of dust overlaid everything, the caustic stink of floor cleaner, all topped off with the very faint scent of Maddox Wolfe that immediately rubbed him raw.

  Colt’s brother must have been the last one to stay over.

  It was an irrational response, but Adam hesitated in placing Tabby down on the bed when Shea instructed him to. But then, because he knew it was irrational, he sucked it the fuck up and settled her with her head on the royal blue pillow.

  “Why isn’t she up yet?” he worried. And, okay, it might’ve come out as more of a gruff demand, but he didn’t mean for it to. He couldn’t help it. “It’s been close to an hour. I thought you said she’d be alright.”

  “These things take time,” soothed Shea.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Adam. Relax. You trusted me with healing you, right?”

  He tore his anxious gaze away from Tabby, spying the familiar magenta glow already covering Shea’s delicate hands. “‘Course.”

  “Then trust me with your Tabby. Remember, it took Colton days to recover when he got hit by one of Priscilla’s spells.”

  “That bitch threw him out of a window, Shea.”

  Barely masked fury lit up her witch’s gaze at the memory. “Yes. She did. And Colton is a shifter. He would’ve shaken it off if Priscilla hadn’t hit him with magic first. Tabby… give me some time.”

&nb
sp; “Okay. Yeah. You’re right.”

  “Back up.”

  He did. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before he bounced forward on the balls of his feet, hanging over Shea’s shoulder, asking questions about what she was doing next. It was as if he was possessed. No matter how much he wanted to stay calm, it was impossible.

  For the first time, he understood exactly why Colt seemed to go mindless when Shea ended up in Grayson Main. She’d tapped herself completely out, using every last bit of her energy to heal her Donor brother after a vicious Nightwalker attack; in saving Hudson, she nearly killed herself. They weren’t even bonded yet when it happened, but Adam watched Colt pace outside of the hospital last December and knew that, if Shea didn’t recover, that would be the end of the shifter.

  And not just because of the Claws Clause.

  Back when he was still human, Adam never understood it. The most well-known clause to come out of Ordinance 7304—the reason it was referred to as the Bond Laws—was the choice given to a bonded Para who lost his or her mate. Because a bonded paranormal who outlived their mate was the definition of dangerous, they could either choose: a) voluntary incarceration with the (minor) hope of rehabilitation; b) a lobotomy-like procedure performed by a government-employed witch to sever the bond, or c) a state-sanctioned execution to end the pain.

  When Evangeline was pronounced dead, Maddox Wolfe chose the Cage.

  If Shea died? No doubt in Adam’s mind that Colt would go for the execution.

  And if Tabby didn’t pull through…

  He shook his head, cutting that thought off right there. He gave up on his revenge, letting Rafe flee so that he could tend to Tabby instead. Didn’t matter that there wasn’t a bond. Didn’t matter that she wasn’t—and would never want to be—his betrothed. Regardless, he felt responsible.

  Responsible.

  Right.

  Just like Colt felt “responsible” for his witch, even when he was bending over backward, trying to convince himself he wasn’t the right mate for Shea.

  Yeah.

  Speak of the devil. As if Adam’s obsessive worrying called out to him, Colt slipped into the room. Dodge hovered behind him. Because he had nothing better to do—Shea warned him that, if he kept getting in her way, she’d send him out of the room—he glanced over at the two men.