Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

COLT

T he afternoon sun bathed Copper Canyon Ranch in golden light, casting long shadows over the sprawling landscape. Colt stood by the barn, checking the harness on one of the small carriages they used for leisurely rides around the property. Mostly it was his men when they were courting one of the she-wolves or a bonded couple wanting a romantic evening. His thoughts were firmly on Briar, as they had been all day. He knew something had been eating at her—not just what had brought her here, but something else.

Regardless, he meant to get to the bottom of it. She had skipped dinner the night before, begged off from breakfast this morning, and spent the rest of the day in what seemed to be a foul mood. It didn't sit right with him. His wolf was pacing beneath his skin, urging him to fix it—to get close to her again. His wolf could just shut up. He intended to do exactly that.

Briar's curvy figure emerged from the house, and his groin tightened as it almost always did upon seeing her. His mother's floppy hat, now Briar's, was pulled low to shield her face from the sun. She moved with a grace that was inborn, not learned, her arms hanging stiffly at her sides. Even from here, Colt could tell she was in one hell of a mood.

Perfect. He grinned to himself and adjusted his hat. A grumpy Briar was still Briar. And he liked the challenge she presented—liked the way she made him want to unravel her, one layer at a time.

"You ready?" Colt called out as she approached, his voice low and warm.

Briar gave him a suspicious glance, arching one delicate brow. "Ready for what?"

Colt leaned casually against the side of the carriage, his grin widening. "A picnic. Figured you could use a break."

She sighed, clearly skeptical. "I don't know, Colt. I'm not really in the mood..."

"You've been in a mood all right," Colt said, stepping closer. His voice dropped, smooth as whiskey. "That's exactly why I'm taking you." He caught her hand, brushing his thumb gently over her knuckles. "Come on, Briar. Just for a couple of hours. You and me. No one else."

For a moment, Briar hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. Colt's gaze lingered there, heat stirring low in his belly. He wanted to kiss that lip, bite it gently, coax her out of whatever funk she was in.

With a resigned sigh, she gave a small nod. "All right. But only because you're annoyingly persistent."

"That's me." Colt winked and helped her into the carriage. "You do know that's one of the nicer things anyone has said about me."

As they rode down the ranch's winding trails, Colt kept a light grip on the reins, but most of his attention stayed on Briar. She sat beside him, stiff and silent, her hat casting shadows over her face.

He let the silence stretch between them for a while, the steady rhythm of the horse trotting along filling the empty space. Then, with a mischievous grin, Colt let his knee brush against hers—just a casual, accidental touch. Briar shot him a sideways look, but she didn't pull away.

Encouraged, Colt ran his thumb along the back of her hand, the contact sending little sparks of heat racing through his skin. She tensed slightly, but again, she didn't pull away.

"You know," Colt murmured, his voice low and teasing, "you've got a real talent for grumpy silence. I'd rate it a solid nine out of ten."

Briar's lips twitched, though she tried to hide it. "Don't push your luck."

Colt chuckled, enjoying the flicker of humor in her eyes. "Come on, sweetheart. You can't stay mad at me forever. Whatever it is I did, I apologize."

"I'm not mad."

"No?" He shifted slightly, letting his thigh press more firmly against hers. "You look like a small whirling dust devil."

Briar gave him an exasperated glance, though there was the faintest hint of a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "Colt..."

He grinned. "There it is—that's the smile I've been waiting for."

They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the breeze soft against their skin, carrying the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed earth. Every now and then, Colt would brush his hand along Briar's arm, subtle touches meant to coax her out of her shell. And each time, she seemed to soften just a little more.

When they reached a secluded spot near a stream with a small stand of shade trees, Colt pulled the carriage to a stop. The area was quiet, the only sounds were the trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

He helped Briar down from the carriage, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary. She shot him a wary glance, but he only smiled.

"Let's eat," Colt said, guiding her to the blanket Etta had packed for them.

They settled down, and Colt handed her a sandwich, watching as she nibbled at the corner. For a moment, everything felt easy. Simple.

But it wasn't simple. Not really.

Colt leaned back on his elbows, his gaze steady on Briar. "You know, Briar, I've been real patient with you."

Briar stiffened slightly, setting her sandwich aside. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Colt held up a hand, his expression serious now. "I mean, I've given you time. I haven't pushed. But I need to know the truth, Briar. I need to know what brought you here."

Briar's lips parted, but Colt shook his head, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to offer. "No half-truths. No evasion. Let me tell you what I do know. This morning, three men showed up looking for you." His gaze darkened, and his voice dropped into a growl. "It's all right; whatever it is I can handle it. I just need to know what I'm up against."

Briar stared at him for a long moment, her green eyes wide with a mix of fear and resignation. Then, slowly, she exhaled. "All right."

Colt sat up, his focus entirely on her as she began to speak.

"I know this may be hard to believe, but I'm a witch from a coven here in Texas," Briar said quietly. "My mother is... powerful. And controlling." She swallowed hard, her hands twisting in her lap. "The coven—my mother—arranged a marriage for me to a warlock from a neighboring coven."

Colt's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at the thought of anyone forcing Briar into something she didn't want, although truth to tell, it had occurred to him more than once that forcing Briar's hand might be the easiest way to resolve things between them. Once she was in his bed, he was sure he could convince her that it was the place she most wanted to be.

"It wasn't a marriage for love," Briar continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was a power grab. Our union would've amplified the magic of both covens." She glanced away, her expression haunted. "He was cruel, Colt. Violent. And when I tried to refuse, he..." She trailed off, her voice cracking.

Fury rose within him. It was one thing to think he knew what had happened—quite another to know he'd been right. Colt's heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice, and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and promise her that no one would ever hurt her again, but he sensed she needed to get it out, to lay everything on the table.

"So I ran," Briar finished, her eyes meeting his. "When I showed up, I didn't remember any of this. It's only in the past few days my memory has returned. I had decided to leave here, too. I thought it would be safer that way."

Colt's wolf snarled at the idea of her leaving—of her slipping away from him just when he'd found her.

"Not happening," Colt said, his voice rough with finality. "You're not leaving, Briar. Ever."

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. "Colt, you don't understand..."

"I understand more than you think," he interrupted, his gaze fierce. "You're mine, Briar. You belong here—with me. And I'll be damned if I let anyone take you away."

The air between them crackled with tension, thick and electric. Colt leaned closer, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin. "I'll protect you," he whispered, his voice low and full of promise. "No one's gonna hurt you ever again."

Briar's breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then she exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging in surrender.

"Okay," she whispered.

Colt breathed a sigh of relief as something deeper, something fierce and possessive raised its head. She was his, and he wasn't letting her go.

Colt sat back on his heels, absorbing everything Briar had just told him. Witches. She came from a coven of witches. Of all the things he might have imagined—criminals, rogue family members, or even some messed-up relationship drama—witches hadn't been on his list.

But it didn't change a damn thing. Not to him.

She was still his fated mate. His.

The knowledge settled deep in his bones, steady and unshakable. It didn't matter what kind of magic she carried or what kind of trouble followed her. What mattered was that she was here now, with him. And no matter what came next, he wasn't letting her go.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the pieces falling into place. He couldn't exactly be mad at her for hiding the truth about being a witch—not when he hadn't told her his truth, either. Hell, she didn't know he was a wolf-shifter. And once he claimed her, she'd become one, too. That thought filled him with a primal satisfaction—his wolf rumbling in approval at the idea of Briar becoming part of his pack, his world, his life.

He brushed his thumb along her cheek again, the warmth of her skin sending a bolt of heat through him. "It doesn't matter, Briar," he said softly. "Witch or not. I don't care. You're mine."

Her green eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as if she wasn't sure what to say. Colt held her gaze, his voice low and full of certainty. "I'll take care of this. Whatever they think they can do, it won't touch you here. I promise you that."

For a moment, Briar looked torn, her brows knitting together. But Colt knew she felt it too—that connection between them. Whether she understood it yet or not, it was there, as real as the sun in the sky.

He shifted slightly, his hand sliding from her cheek to rest over hers. "Tonight, I want you to sit with me," Colt murmured. "At dinner. At my side, where you belong."

For a moment, she just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then her lips pressed into a tight line, and a frown crept across her face.

"Won't that bother your fiancée?" she asked coldly, her voice sharp as a knife.

Colt blinked, thrown off balance. "My what?"

Briar's eyes darkened, her expression shifting from wary to angry in the space of a heartbeat. "The only reason I agreed to come on this stupid picnic," she bit out, "was so I could see your face when I called you out for chasing after me when you're engaged to someone else."

"Fiancée?" Colt repeated, dumbfounded. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Briar didn't wait for him to explain. She shoved herself to her feet with a fluid grace that took him by surprise, her anger radiating off her in waves. "Save it," she snapped. "I saw the ring. She told me everything. Engaged since childhood, huh? I'll bet that whole ‘you're mine' line has worked on more than one woman."

Colt stared at her, still trying to piece together what the hell was happening. "Elle," he growled under his breath, realizing too late what this was about.

But Briar wasn't waiting for an explanation. Before Colt could stop her, she turned on her heel and darted toward the buggy.

"Briar, wait!" Colt lunged after her, but she was already climbing into the seat, her hands deftly grabbing the reins.

He reached the side of the buggy just as she snapped the reins, flicking the buggy whip in his direction. The startled horse sprang into motion, wheeling away with the buggy and breaking into a gallop.

"Briar, stop!" Colt called, frustration bubbling to the surface.

He whistled a signal for the horse to stop; it didn't.

"Whoa!" Colt growled, trying to get the horse to stop, but it ignored him completely, responding only to Briar's commands.

Colt watched, helpless, as the buggy raced down the trail, kicking up dust in its wake. His wolf snarled in frustration, pacing inside him, furious at being unable to stop her.

"Son of a..." Colt bit off the curse, dragging a hand down his face as the dust settled.

He stood there for a long moment, hands on his hips, watching the buggy disappear around the bend. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anger and frustration.

Elle. Damn her.

Well, the only good thing about Briar not knowing he was a wolf-shifter is she wouldn't know he could shift, cut across the rolling hills, and beat her back to the barn.

He would make Briar understand, one way or another, because no one—not Elle, not those men who were hunting her—no one was going to drive Briar away.

The second the buggy disappeared around the bend, Colt's wolf surged forward, clawing for release. Every instinct in him screamed to stop Briar, to reach her before she did something reckless. The thought of her leaving—or worse, getting caught by the people hunting her—made his blood run cold.

He didn't have time to waste. The buggy had a head start, and the horse pulling it was fast. But Colt had one advantage.

He was faster.

Without a second thought, he stripped off his shirt and boots, letting them fall in the grass. The swirling mist of thunder, lightning and color surrounded him, encompassing and changing his being from man to wolf in what was no more than the blink of an eye. A low growl rumbled from his throat as his wolf burst free—a powerful beast with dark fur and fierce, glowing eyes.

The world sharpened instantly. His senses expanded—his nose catching Briar's scent on the breeze, his ears pricking at the rhythmic clatter of hooves as the buggy raced away. Colt didn't hesitate. He dug his claws into the earth and ran .

The prairie blurred around him as his powerful legs ate up the distance. Each bound brought him closer to home, the wind whipping through his thick fur. He leapt over rocks and low branches with the ease of a predator born to hunt.

Colt's wolf reveled in the speed, in the strength of his body, as he surged forward. The scent of dust and Briar's fury lingered in the air, driving him faster, harder. He needed to reach the ranch before she did. He would reach it before she did.

The earth thudded beneath his paws, each stride longer and smoother than the last. The buggy's path wound lazily through the hills, following the curves of the landscape. But Colt took the most direct route, cutting through the grasslands, over the hills and down the embankments.

Sharp prairie grass and tumbleweed snagged at his fur and whipped past his muzzle, but he paid them no mind. His heart pounded in time with his strides, a steady, powerful rhythm that matched the primal drive roaring inside him.

She was his. His to protect. His to love. His to keep .

Colt cleared a fallen log in one powerful leap, landing smoothly on the other side without breaking his stride. The scent of the ranch house was close now, mingling with the comforting smells of horses, hay, and sun-warmed wood.

He was almost there.

A glint of metal caught his eye behind him—the buggy, winding its way along the road toward the ranch. Briar was a dark silhouette on the driver's seat, her hands tight on the reins.

Colt bared his teeth in a silent snarl and pushed himself harder. His paws thudded against the ground in a relentless rhythm, his wolf urging him forward with a single-minded purpose: beat her there. Don't let her leave.

The ranch house came into view just ahead, the barn and outbuildings tucked neatly against the landscape. Colt surged forward, his muscles coiling as he launched himself up a small rise.

With one last powerful bound, he charged into the barn, skidding to a halt as he forced his wolf to give up control.

"Colt? What the hell?" said Bryce.

"Keep everyone out of the barn. Find Elle, escort her to her room and make sure she doesn't leave. Tell her she's going to have a lot of explaining and apologizing to do to my mate."

"Damn. So chivalry and romance are out the window and alpha wolf domination has taken its place." Bryce was downright gleeful. If he didn't have other things—more pressing things—to do, he'd punch his little brother in the face.

Briar drove the horse and buggy through the empty barnyard and into the stable. Colt stood tall, proud and naked, his golden eyes glowing in the fading light. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. He simply stared at her, his gaze locked on her. Her hands faltered on the reins, her expression shifting from anger to shock. For a moment, she simply stared back at him, her breath catching in her throat.

Colt huffed softly, satisfaction rumbling through his chest. She wasn't going anywhere. Not without him. The horse nickered nervously, shifting under Briar's hands, but Colt remained where he was, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Briar may have thought they were through, but Colt? Colt knew they were just getting started.