Page 23 of Colton’s Mate

Nothing was wrong. His claws were red with the blood of his enemies, and he snarled defiance. He was going to kill. Everything was right.

Suddenly, a small fist came out of nowhere and slammed into the human’s face. His eyes rolled back in his head and he went down.

He followed the fist to its owner. Callie.

“This isn’t a shifter bar. You can’t Change! And for fuck’s sake don’t kill anyone!”

Shit.

He tried to get a grip on his animal, but it had gone crazy. Kill them! Kill them all!

Callie’s hands closed around his wrists. They were soft and felt cool against his overheated skin.

“Colt? Colt!” She shook his arms slightly. “Look at me.”

He couldn’t focus. He could hear himself snarling, but he couldn’t stop. His leopard was inches from busting out—fur rippled down his arms. To make it worse, he could feel his owl wings straining to manifest. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be. It was all slipping out of his control…

“It’s okay. Just look at me.”

Callie’s eyes were right in front of him. Wide and soft and urgent. Such a pretty shade of blue-gray, like a lake at dawn.

“You can’t Change,” she said. “You have to hold on. Can you do that?”

No. He couldn’t do that. He could feel his muscles cramping, his bones straining to change shape. Bird. Cat. Human. All of the above.

The Talon who had tried to take Callie moaned.

Colt let out an ear-rattling snarl. “Kill,” he rasped.

Callie kicked the Talon in the side of his head, knocking him out. “Forget him,” she said to Colt. She pulled him closer, gazing into his eyes, swinging him around so his back was to the chaos in the room. “Don’t kill. Don’t change. You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

He stared into her eyes, still snarling, teeth bared.

Pretty eyes. Pretty lips. Smell good. He tilted his head slowly, as if watching a small animal that he might want to pounce on.

Callie lips. He leaned in and captured them with his own.

Everything stopped. The noise. The craziness. His leopard. His owl. His heart. His lungs. His brain.

He was floating in a bubble of silence, and everything fell away except for the feeling of her mouth on his.

More. He didn’t know if it was his cat or his owl or his own heart speaking. But the rage was seeping out of him like water out of a sieve, and in its place was a sweet wildness he’d never felt before.

All the parts of him that had been tangled and out of whack for the last few months suddenly clicked into place. Time stretched out.

Then suddenly everything was back, the noise and the heat and the thud of bodies, but he didn’t care because kisses, and Callie was pressed against him, making heat and light and tiny explosions run up his spine and down into his belly.

She pulled back, staring into his eyes. “You’re not snarling.”

He shook his head.

She frowned. “Your claws are still out.”

Whatever.

“You okay?”

“Nuh-uh.” Not at all. It was hard to talk. He wanted to grab her and pin her to the wall. Change with her and mount her lynx. Fly away with her.