Chapter Five #2
His entire body went rigid, panic slicing out any leftover relaxation.
Try as he might, his brain threw up nothing but primal animal terror, as if there was a huge, dangerous predator camped out with its mouth to his ear.
Instinct screamed at him to get out, get away, put something solid between him and that sound.
He tried to squirm free, but Colton’s arms locked down like steel, trapping Zack across his ribs. No chance of budging. A hot, heavy body at his back. Purring grew, filling the tiny apartment with the kind of rumbling that belonged in a zoo, not on an Ikea couch in a rented walkup.
Nuzzling followed, warm breath along his jaw. Colton dragged his nose over Zack’s cheek, purring even louder, making the surface of his skin vibrate. Something primal in that sound wanted to pin him flat and not let go.
“Uh, Colton?” His voice squeaked on the last syllable, not proud of it, but not apologizing, either.
A deep, vibrating growl rolled up next to his ear. The arms didn’t loosen, not even a fraction.
Man, he was going to die here, bare-assed and sticky, murdered by whatever the hell had taken over his new boyfriend’s body.
He rammed his elbow back as a last-ditch effort. No luck. Muscles like a brick wall.
Panic sent a crazy burst of energy though him. He dug in his heels and shoved hard, wrenching himself sideways. This time, Colton let go, maybe startled by the movement.
Zack tumbled straight off the couch. The rug was solid under his ass, the cold surprising after the heat of Colton’s body. Kicked backward, clumsy, caught his footing only by bracing behind himself on the floor.
Colton jerked upright with feline speed. Not a slow sit up, but the way big cats came alert on those wildlife shows, forearm steady on the couch cushion and eyes hunting for trouble.
Now the purr was more like a growl, lips curled back from straight white teeth. Colton scanned the apartment for threats, a physical readiness in every plane of his shoulders.
Zack scrambled around the coffee table, putting it between them. He needed a weapon, a shield, a goddamn crucifix. The tiny table held a stack of battered magazines, remote control, and some dead houseplants. Not great in a crisis.
Colton tracked him, those brown eyes transformed, almost feral. Not human at all.
Holy hell. He was going to die here—for real this time.
“What are you?” he managed, voice cracking.
Colton rose up on the couch, big and still, features easier but not entirely human. “Zack. Calm down.”
“I’m calm.” He palmed a rolled-up magazine, brandishing it like a sword. “I’m totally calm. That’s why I’m threatening you with periodical literature. Stay back, Colton, or I’ll give you a paper cut you won’t forget.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Overreacting? Did this guy even hear himself purr like a goddamn jungle cat? “Do you do that often? Bust out the Tiger King routine during aftercare? That’s a pretty big thing to leave off your dating profile.”
Colton eased forward, palms up, not threatening. “Not going to hurt you.”
Zack scooted farther behind the table, using the edge for cover.
He wished he’d picked a bigger piece of furniture, but here they were.
“You’re making noises that do not come from people, just so you know.
Regular people, they snore, maybe they fart in their sleep.
They don’t sound like a jungle documentary. ”
“I told you, Blue. Not going to hurt you.”
“That’s what all the creeps say right before they eat your face.” Zack threw the magazine at Colton, missing by a mile. “What are you?” he demanded again, panting, sweat breaking out despite the air conditioning.
Colton hesitated, then sat up, huge and eerily calm. “Shifter.”
Zack blinked. “Shifter what?”
“Black panther.”
A hysterical laugh ripped out of him. “Bullshit. You are not a panther. You’re insane. That’s what you are. You know what happens to people who lose it in apartments like these? Their neighbors call the manager and the next thing you know, Dateline is knocking.”
Colton stayed patient, solid, like he was used to handling crazy. “It’s true, Zack. I tried to tell you last night, but you weren’t ready to hear it.”
“Try again. I heard you. I just prefer my men not to secretly be science experiments.” Zack’s entire body buzzed. “Are you going to infect me with crazy? Is that the plan? Because if you turn me into anything with a tail, I will cut your balls off myself. There, that’s a threat you can believe.”
Eyes crinkled, like he found the threat amusing rather than scary. “It’s not contagious. It’s just what I am.”
Zack backed up another foot, sweat dripping from his forehead. Anger and fear crashed together, muddling his insides in a way caffeine never could. “Prove it. If you’re gonna stand there telling me you’re a magical panther, show me. Do something.”
Colton didn’t hesitate. Lifting his hand, he flexed the fingers, then held it out clear of the couch. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like thick plastic snapping, sharp black claws slid straight out of Colton’s fingertips.
He nearly puked. Those weren’t nail extensions or those acrylic jobs girls got in the mall. They were thick, curved, and real, dark as oil, a full inch longer than human nails.
Zack’s head spun. The world fuzzed around the edges, voices echoing in the hall outside, distant and weird. Magazine and remote on the coffee table faded to gray. Blood roared in his ears.
This was not happening in his living room. Absolutely not happening.
Then everything went black.
Next time around, he woke to the feel of cool water dabbing his brow and a big hand cradling his neck, holding him steady. Something moved over his face, dabbing again, gentle. His eyes fluttered open, but the world was moving slow.
Colton’s face swam into focus, concern tightening his jaw.
Great, so not only was he insane, he’d passed out in front of the world’s most dangerous shifter. That would haunt him forever.
He tried to sit up. “Don’t kill me, I’m allergic to death.”
Colton tucked a pillow behind him, setting him up halfway. “I told you, Blue, I won’t hurt you.”
“You say that now, but ten minutes ago you grew Freddy Krueger claws.” He eyed Colton’s hands warily. “Can you retract those, or is it like a bad manicure?”
Without a word, Colton flexed his fist. The claws slid away, smooth as anything. Normal human hands again.
Zack wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
He pressed his palms to his eyes for a few seconds, forcing his breathing to cooperate. The room settled. His hearing evened out. The hum of the fridge, the clack of someone in the laundromat below. Colton’s purring had gone silent, replaced by a steady, watchful silence.
A wild laugh threatened to slip out again, but he bit it down. “Let me get this straight. You, the big, hot security guy, are actually a giant murder cat. You hid this why, exactly?”
“Didn’t want you to be scared. It’s not something most people are ready to hear.”
That calm was infuriating. “You know what most people aren’t ready for? Reality shows up and suddenly your boyfriend is the star of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.”
Zack’s hands shook as he dragged them through his hair. “Fuck, I thought my brother was the worst thing in my life. Now it’s you by a mile, dude.”
Colton watched him, quiet, patient. Not pushing.
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.
Maybe Zack really had lost his mind.