More than anything, Zack wanted to get up and pace, burn off the nervous energy, but his legs refused. Panic left his limbs feeling like overcooked spaghetti.
He forced himself to make eye contact. “You really expect me to believe you can turn into a panther?”
“Yeah.”
“You got a tail and everything? Do you fetch, or is it more of a drag-someone-into-the-underbrush deal?”
That got a snort out of Colton. “I’m not a dog, Blue.”
“So you do kill stuff then. Good to know. Are you, like, cursed or something? Or did you just wake up one morning with murder cat powers?”
Colton drew a deep breath, considering. “Been this way since I was born.”
“Great. So I guess you can’t bite me and turn me too? You said it’s not contagious?”
“Doesn’t work like that.”
Zack nodded, weirdly relieved. “Good. Because a stripey pattern would clash with my wardrobe. Just so we’re clear, you’re not about to eat me?”
“Wouldn’t hurt you. Ever. You have my word.”
“See, that’s the part that makes zero sense. You could rip my head clean off right now. The only reason you haven’t is…what? You’re trying to lull me into being a snack later?”
Colton’s gaze went soft, almost fond. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
The man radiated calm, but that didn’t do much for the pounding in Zack’s ears. Anxiety made his throat raw, but he covered it up with more jokes because the alternative was screaming.
He slumped back against the couch, tried to play it cool. “You could have warned me. Maybe put a little sign on your dick. ‘Warning: contents may cause unconsciousness.’”
Colton’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
“Well, now I feel like an asshole for fainting. Congrats, you broke my last working brain cell.”
“Blue, you were amazing.”
“Damn right I am.” Zack’s voice shook, but he pushed through. “So, what happens now? We wrestle, you throw me over your shoulder and drag me back to your lair?”
Not even a flinch. “You’re my mate. It doesn’t change anything.”
Didn’t change anything? Was this guy high?
He scrambled up, body shaky, and wedged himself into the far corner of the couch, still keeping the coffee table between them like a shield. If Colton wanted to come at him, he’d have to go through some Ikea pressboard first. “You’re not planning on killing me, right?”
“No.”
“Because if you are, I want it on record that I was the best blowjob you’ve ever had. Don’t let my tombstone say any different.”
Colton chuckled. “Deal.”
Warmth flickered through Zack’s stomach. The panic wasn’t gone, not even close, but the man’s steadiness was oddly reassuring. Like a jungle cat that had decided to nap in the sun instead of attack, but you never trusted its belly too much.
He gave Colton a long, wary stare. “If you’re a panther, go on. Do the purr thing again.”
Colton leaned back, arms loose over his knees. Then, without warning, the rumble rolled up again, a deep, physical purr that made Zack’s skin prick. The man didn’t move, just let the sound fill the air between them.
Some part of Zack—the irrational, childhood part that secretly loved wild animals and nature shows and all that shit—wanted to crawl over and bury himself against that sound. But common sense held him back, yelling, do not touch the murder cat, do not lose your soul because of a hot hunk who makes you feel seen.
But Zack had a feeling that the warning was useless. He’d already grown attached to Colton, even though it had only been a day since meeting him.
