Page 22 of Colton’s Mate

One minute Colt was dancing with a perfectly nice woman, trying to get his mind off Callie.

The next minute, the bar had erupted in a fight and there were bodies flying all around him. In the middle of every knot of fighters was a Black Talon.

What the fuck did were they doing here?

Colt’s dance partner was screaming, and he pushed her and another girl into a niche beside the jukebox. “Stay there,” he said. Remy was already in the middle of the melee, grinning like a madman, fighting three guys at once.

He didn’t seem to need any help. Colt knew Brandon would be taking care of Kitty. But where was Callie? He couldn’t see her…

His leopard was yowling inside him, distracting him so much he almost didn’t brace himself in time against the two combatants who were hurled into him.

He shoved them aside. All he could think about was finding Callie, making sure she was okay.

He fought his way across the bar towards where he’d last seen her. Of course she wasn’t there. Kitty was on top of the bar, uttering war whoops while she kicked attackers away and threw bottles to Brandon, who was breaking them over the heads of any Talons he could reach.

Where the hell was Callie?

Then he heard her voice behind him, cutting through the yelling and crashes and blaring music like she was the only person in the room.

“Colt! Duck!”

He did it without hesitation. A knife blade whistled past his head.

If she hadn’t warned him, it would have taken his ear right off. Fuck. He whirled around and grabbed the wrist of the Talon holding the knife, twisting it until the bones snapped.

Shifters healed crazy fast, but lost body parts did not reattach. Colt had no desire to go around for the rest of his life like Van Gogh.

This wasn’t just a fun little bar fight. Not if they were trying to lop off body parts. Colt drove his knee into the Talon’s face, dropping him like a stone, and headed for the place Callie’s voice had come from.

Adrenalin spiked through his veins.

Kill them, kill them, kill them, his leopard was howling.

Shit, no! No killing! This wasn’t a shifter bar. Bodies meant human police and human courts. Bad for shifters.

He had to find Callie.

Finally he saw her, fighting her way towards him. She elbow-smashed a human guy in the nose—and then one of the Talons came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

He lifted her up, kicking and growling, and tried to carry her off.

Colt’s leopard went berserk.

He fought through the melee, cold-cocking everyone in his path or just tossing them out of the way, not worrying about where they landed.

Callie’s captor almost had her to the emergency exit. If he got her outside, hell only knew what he’d do to her.

Colt reached them just before they got to the door and grabbed for the Talon. His leopard claws manifested involuntarily, cutting deep bloody slashes across the big muscles of the man’s shoulders and back.

He roared in pain and dropped Callie.

From the floor, she hit the asshole in the balls and he went down, moaning.

Colt couldn’t stop himself. His claws were still out and now his canines elongated and a red haze formed around the edges of his vision. This fucker had tried to hurt Callie. He was going to die.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

A human guy appeared in front of him, staring at his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”