Sunglasses at Night (Claws Clause Book 3)

by Jessica Lynch

  At least, he thought she did. Between the thumping of his heart and the echo in his pained ears, he couldn’t make out much of anything. Until what sounded like thunder or a crash, a drumming cacophony that had the hairs on his arm standing on end.

  With a slight wince, he demanded, “What the fuck is that?”

  Tabby rose up from her crouch, bouncing on the soles of her sneakers like they were springs. “Come on. Let’s go find out.”

  The gentleman in Adam wanted to insist on going up the stairs first. The cop that would never die itched to shove her behind him so that he could shield her. But the Nightwalker who was still trying to swallow past the renewed ache in his sensitive ears, he took a second to get to his feet. By the time he braced one hand against the cinderblock wall, shaking off the piercing howl, she was already reaching the top step.

  He gritted his teeth, prepared in case the sound came again, and bounded up the stairs.

  The lights were out. Seemed like nobody had returned home while they were sleeping.

  Phew.

  It had been a huge gamble, choosing to hide out in this house because it was empty at five o’clock in the morning when they chanced upon it. It had no wards protecting it, no cars in the driveway, and he hoped Tabby wasn’t just guessing when she bet that the homeowners were away on an early summer vacation.

  No one knew they were inside.

  That was a good thing.

  The stricken look that passed across Tabby’s face when he was about to cross the top stair behind her?

  Yeah.

  Not so good.

  “Stay back,” Tabby ordered. “It’s still light out.”

  He froze.

  Right. The sunlight wasn’t his friend any longer.

  Got it.

  Adam’s gut tightened as he listened to Tabby and moved further into the shadows of the stairwell. For a moment, he was about to follow her across the room, to the window, to the door, straight outside if he needed to. For a moment, he completely forgot that he was bound inside by the power of the sun and his new fate.

  Not Tabby. The slayer, it seemed, never forgot that he was a Nightwalker. Not when he was ready to head back to Grayson too close to sunrise, and not now.

  He shoved his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, pushing them so roughly that the rims bit into his eye sockets. Outside, he could hear the baying and the howls and he knew, even before Tabby pulled the shades away and peeked outside, what would be out there.

  So when she confirmed that it was a wolf, he had only one question—

  “Para or real?”

  She let the shade fall back into place with a soft slap. “Nothing that size came out of these woods. It’s a shifter for sure. From the looks of it, I’d say feral.”

  Shit. A feral shifter was like a rogue vampire: a mindless, heartless beast that was a danger if not outright deadly. If there were any human parts left to a feral shifter, they were buried under the bloodthirsty nature of the beast.

  And there was one loose on the streets of Woodbridge.

  Adam’s immediate reaction was to go for his phone. Colt’s Bumptown wasn’t too far away and, considering this was a shifter problem, it made sense to call the only shifter he was friendly with. What if the wolf out there was part of the Eastern Pack? The Alpha needed to know.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing if I can call in some help.”

  Before he could use his claw to pull up Colt’s number, Tabby dashed over to him, pulling his phone out of his loose grip.

  “No time. He’s already sniffed us out.”

  “What?”

  As if answering his question, Adam heard scratching at the front door. He could only imagine the deep grooves left in the wood and already made a mental note to leave some cash for the homeowners so they could repair it. A few seconds later, when the wolf threw its body at the door, causing the whole damn house to shake, he added more to the total.

  “What the fuck is it doing out there?”

  “Told you, Adam. He’s sniffed us out. He knows he has a vamp and a slayer cornered. He’s not going to leave us alone. Calling for help is pointless when we’ve got a problem now.”

  Another howl split the air. It sounded farther away and, for a brief moment, he wondered if Tabby was wrong—right before the wolf threw its body at the window next. It creaked, though it didn’t break… that time.

  “The door won’t hold,” Tabby said, reading his mind. “Window, either. If he breaks in, there won’t be any room to fight and he’ll tear us to pieces. We’ll be wolf chow. I’ve gotta go out there now where I’ll have a chance of collaring him.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Next time.” Standing on her tip-toes, Tabby patted him on his upper bicep. His phone was gone, Adam noticed. In her back pocket? Probably. “Hang tight. I’ve got this one.”

  She wasn’t really going to—

  He let loose a rumble deep in his chest. “I don’t think you should go out there on your own. You might get hurt.”

  The look she gave him reminded him of his mom and wasn’t that a fucking shock. Since Fiona Wright’s sudden death, Adam did what he always did: pushed it out of his mind so that he didn’t have to focus on how much he missed her and how bad it still hurt. It was the same way he approached being a Para now. Once he got past the worst of it, once he accepted that—unless he gave in to his darkest impulse and just walked into the sun—this was his life now, he shoved it so far out of his head, it was like it belonged to another person.

  But looking at Tabby as she smiled up at him in the way… it was exactly the same kind of indulging smile his mother used to offer him whenever he pulled the “I’m the man of the house” routine when he was… what? Twelve? Thirteen?

  The kind of smile that said, you’re cute for trying, but you haven’t got a chance of changing my mind.

  Tabby was going out to face off with the wild animal, wasn’t she?

  “Getting hurt is part of the job. I’ll survive. I always do. Right now, I’ve just got to make sure that everyone else does.”

  Because, unlike the stretch of road by the woods where they purposely left his car, this neighborhood was full of houses.

  Full of people.

  He couldn’t stop her. No—well, he could. She was a small thing compared to him, and even when he was still human, he had the strength to hold her back. But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of him to try, and, deep down, Adam accepted that even if Eva hadn’t given in to the mystical mating bond pulling her back toward her shifter mate, it never would’ve worked. He had been too controlling, under the guise of being caring. He hadn’t been able to stop himself then, but he promised to get a hold on his overbearing instincts if he ever found himself drawn to a woman again.

  And considering what Deb told him…

  Adam changed tactics. He laid his hand on Tabby’s shoulder, wincing when he noticed how much of a stark contrast his midnight black claws were against her pale grey shirt. Her shoulder was delicate; he could feel the bones under his light squeeze. He knew she was small, could see how tiny she was, but he somehow forgot when faced with her attitude and her personality.

  He had to try.

  “Can it wait? Sun’s bound to be going down soon. I can go out there with you. I know you’re more than capable… you proved that earlier tonight… but one thing I learned while I was on the job, it’s that you can never go wrong with back-up. Wait for me. Then you won’t have to go out there alone.”

  One look into her dark brown eyes and he had his answer. That was pure steel staring back at him.

  He’d expected it, too. Adam didn’t like it, but he expected it. “It was worth a shot.”

  “This house was empty. Doesn’t mean they all are. I can’t wait. You know that.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  Her lips quirked upward. It was a sweet smile, though the dangerous glint in her gaze didn’t go anywhere.

  Adam’s cock ached. It had be
en a constant throb since Tabby curled up next to him to get some shut-eye, but that innocent expression she could pull coupled with the hard look in her eye… that was it for him. He was a fucking goner.

  Because he wanted nothing more than to keep on touching her, Adam reluctantly moved his hand off of her shoulder.

  “Stay back,” Tabby said again, reaching for the dagger at her hip before moving toward the closed door. “I don’t know how far the sun will stream in. Can’t risk you getting hit.”

  He could handle a few stray beams refracting through a windowpane. It would hurt like hell and it would take at least a bag of blood to heal the burn, but he could handle that. Taking a straight hit? It would be ash time before he knew it.

  And he hated—absolutely hated—that he couldn’t go out there and face off with the shifter instead.

  “Kick his ass, Tab.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh. I plan on it.”

  10

  It was harder than Tabby thought to step out of the safety of the house.

  Not because she was afraid of the wild animal pacing the lengths of the neighborhood street. She wasn’t. The purple glinting off of the wolf’s brindled fur told her all she needed to know about what she was facing. The shifter was clearly under some kind of spell that turned it feral; unfortunately for the suffering beast, there was only one thing she could do. Before it got its claws or teeth into anyone else, Tabby would take care of it.

  She’d done it before. When her time in Grayson was over with, she’d do it again. So, no. It wasn’t the threat of the growling, drooling, cursed shifter that had her dragging her heels.

  It was the way her mind stayed stuck on what Adam said, like streaming a song on repeat. She couldn’t stop replaying it.

  You don’t have to go out there alone…

  But that was the thing. As a slayer, going out to fight a paranormal threat was what she did. Going alone? All part of the job. Even when she had Rosie, the big hound was her only back-up. To be saddled with a partner was the Society’s way of saying a slayer was weak. A disappointment.

  She got enough of that from her uncle.

  Slayers didn’t often form partnerships on their own, either. Boone’s insistence that she work alongside Eddie was as much a slap in the face as it was his fondness for her seeping out. Tabby wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew that her uncle was pushing the issue because he was concerned for her. He didn’t like the idea of her hunting alone, especially now that Rosie had been retired.

  Of course, that only made her more determined to prove herself to him. Which she did whenever she got the chance.

  Like now.

  As a slayer, there were a few things that she toted around so that she’d be prepared for any hunt. Venice was her constant, and she usually had a couple of stakes on her just in case. While the thick pieces of wood didn’t do anything to kill a vamp outright, they were good to slow a target down long enough for Tabby to finish them off with her dagger.

  For that same reason, she never left home without a collar.

  She didn’t specialize in feral shifters, though this wouldn’t be her first rodeo with one. Just like how certain slayer weapons—including Adam’s falchion—were enchanted to change shapes and sizes, the Society outfitted every slayer with a silver charm. Most of the other slayers kept it in their pockets or wore it as a ring. Not Tabby. She looped hers on a simple chain that was easily removed in seconds.

  Too bad that Tabby didn’t have even one to spare.

  The moment she stepped out onto the porch, the massive wolf wheeled around, slobber dripping from its muzzle as it caught sight of her. It bared its teeth, a rumble coming from the beast that sounded like thunder, and she barely had enough time to regret not already engaging the collar before the shifter charged at her.

  In the wild, a pure wolf was a deadly hunter. Reaching speeds of up to thirty-five miles an hour at a sprint, Tabby knew a shifter could top even that by a wide margin. And that wasn’t even counting their powerful legs.

  Never tearing its blazing, amber gaze from her, it ate up the ground in an instant, rearing back and leaping right where she stood, seemingly paralyzed on the porch.

  She’d never outrun it. No point in even trying. The most she could do was time her dodge perfectly, throwing herself to the ground before rolling a few feet away and popping up like some kind of blonde jack-in-the-box. It scraped the shit out of her upper arm, her forearm, the side of one hand as she tucked and rolled, but that was way better than getting her head bitten off by a feral shifter who didn’t know better.

  There was no doubt in her mind that the shifter was trying to tear her to shreds, just like she told Adam. Coming out to the front of the house was the only thing she could do. She might never be able to outrun the beast, but she was small and she was quick and the wolf couldn’t change direction as easily as Tabby.

  It crash-landed on the porch, giant paws scrabbling for purchase against the cement as momentum launched it right into the decorative posts surrounding the side of the porch. It knocked one clean over, bending another as if it was plastic instead of metal.

  The wolf shook the hit off easily, rising up on its four legs, head swiveling as it searched for her.

  A full-throated roar split the early afternoon sky when it did.

  Behind her, the street was empty. Praying the neighbors were smart enough to stay inside where it was safe, she moved a few steps away, giving her space to move.

  She figured that the crash wouldn’t really faze him. That hadn’t been the point of the whole tuck-and-roll maneuver, either. Inside, without room to fight, they would’ve been wolf chow; might as well lay down on a platter and serve themselves up to it.

  On the porch?

  Still too cramped.

  But on the grassy lawn in front of the house?

  Tabby lifted her hand, wagging four fingers at her chest. “Come on, Fido. Bring it.”

  She’d be willing to bet that the cursed shifter was too far gone in this shape to understand her words. But the gesture and the sound of her voice should snag its attention.

  If she wanted to really communicate with him, though?

  Only one thing she could do.

  If she had any hope of keeping it alive, she needed to collar it and talk to it before she decided it deserved to meet Venice.

  After that, she acted on autopilot. Years and years of training kicked in—just like it did when she took out the Nightwalker a few hours ago.

  She knew how to use the wolf’s size against it. While most of her style of training relied on the element of surprise and a reckless tendency to jump headfirst into a fight, she knew when to retreat, when to dodge, when to back off. With a shifter, she needed to avoid getting trampled, bitten, or mauled; that was double when it was a wolf.

  Her necklace was made specifically for fights like these. Ripping the chain over her head while never losing sight of the prowling wolf, she pressed the side of the small, circular charm and muttered the activation spell.

  You didn’t have to be a witch to work certain types of magic. It was like how witches sold wards that came with timers coded to their human owners. With the right touch and the right word, a magic-free slayer like Tabby could pull off some magic of her own.

  The dime-sized charm expanded in seconds, growing into a silver collar that would trap any shifter. She hid it against her side, shouting nonsense words at the wolf, trying to anger it and distract it and maneuver it right where she wanted it.

  It didn’t work right away. The wolf kept charging her, getting closer and closer as she missed its snapping jaws time and time again. Tabby hit the ground hard, but she always got back up. Adrenaline pushed her through most of the scuffle, keeping her alert until she could turn the fight around in her favor—

  There.

  Finally. It seemed like forever—it seemed like no time at all—before Tabby managed to get behind it. Barrelling at the back of the wolf, avoiding its whipping tail, she launched her
body at its hindquarters. Gripping the coarse fur by the handful, the wolf tried to buck her off but she stayed seated. She shimmied up as far as she could go, said a prayer that she could pull this off before it realized what she was doing, and yanked the collar past its muzzle, over its wolfish head.

  The second it reached its throat, the collar tightened.

  Yes!

  When it came to shifters, the collar worked immediately. As soon as she collared him, the big wolf’s body bucked, transforming from animal to man in a blink of an eye. It took everything Tabby had to hold onto him, squeezing her legs around his side as the back of the wolf became the smooth expanse of a naked male’s torso.

  His knees buckled. With her added weight, it threw his center of gravity off, forcing him to the ground. Tabby tumbled with him. As soon as they hit the ground—and she realized she was straddling the guy’s bare ass—she rolled off of him, drawing Venice from her sheath before she was back on her feet.

  The male shifter lifted his head, shock splayed across his narrow, thin face. Shock, she realized, and pain.

  “Are you going to try that shit again?” she said softly once his dazed golden eyes found her face. “Because I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  His eyes dipped to the point of her dagger. Then, to her surprise, he pulled himself up so that he was on his knees.

  Tabby purposely kept her eyes on his face since checking out the junk on the shifter who tried to gut her made her stomach twist—and not in a good way. Shifters might be extremely comfortable with nudity, and Tabby was definitely no prude, but she still had some moral standards.

  Besides, she wasn’t really worried about him attacking her again. Thanks to the collar, she took away any and all of his weapons. No wolf meant no fangs and no claws. Tabby had Venice. He could try to knock her down, but she was confident she could take him, even if her body felt like she’d just finished a tumble cycle inside of a beat-up, old washing machine.

  She won the fight the second she got the collar on him and they both knew it.

  Now if only she could figure out why they’d had to have the fight in the first place…