Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

COLT

C olt strode down the hall, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor, heading toward the guest room where Briar had been sleeping. His thoughts were tangled, caught between the feral need to claim what was his and the calm logic that told him she was human and wouldn't understand the pull he felt. Not yet. Not now.

She was his mate, and every fiber of his being wanted to close the distance between them, to pull her into his arms and keep her there forever. But Briar had a haunted look in her eyes, a skittishness that reminded him of a frightened doe. Whatever she'd been through, it had scarred her deeply, and if he wanted to earn her trust, he'd need patience—however difficult that might be.

As he approached the guest room door, a flicker of unease shot through him, cold and sharp, when he noticed the bed was empty. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his wolf surged forward, ready to tear through the ranch to find her if needed.

He stepped quickly into the room, his pulse hammering in his ears. The blankets were tossed aside, rumpled from sleep, but there was no sign of Briar. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His sharp ears caught the sound of water running from the ensuite bathroom. The tension in his chest eased, and he exhaled, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath.

She just wanted to be clean.

Colt leaned against the door frame, dragging a hand through his hair, relieved but still on edge. His wolf bristled, restless, irritated that she had slipped out of his sight even for a moment. But Colt knew it was irrational—Briar wasn't going anywhere.

The sound of the shower stopped, and Colt straightened instinctively, his senses honing in on the soft rustling of movement behind the bathroom door. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Briar emerged, wrapped in a thick robe she'd found.

His robe.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut.

Her damp curls tumbled loosely over her shoulders, still glistening with moisture. The robe clung to her curves, and her bare feet moved silently across the floor. She raised a hand to push her curls back, absently working out a few tangles with her fingers. There was something achingly vulnerable about the way she stood there—her eyes wary, her movements slow and deliberate—but she was more herself now, steadier than when she'd first stumbled into his life.

Colt's wolf rumbled low in approval, urging him forward. Every part of him ached to close the space between them, to bury his nose in her hair, breathe in her scent, and reassure himself that she was safe and his.

But he forced himself to stay put, tightening his grip on the door frame. He could feel his muscles coiled with tension, a primal need simmering beneath the surface. She was his mate, and every instinct in him screamed to move faster—to pull her into his arms, to protect her, to keep her close.

But he knew better.

She was human. She wouldn't understand the strength of the connection between them, not yet. And pushing too fast, too soon, would only scare her off. He couldn't have that—not when he'd just found her.

"Good morning." His voice was low, rich, and steady—a sound that sent a thrumming pulse through her veins.

"Morning…" she murmured.

She gave him a small, uncertain smile, still clutching the edges of the robe tightly around her, as if the fabric could shield her from whatever haunted her. She reminded him of a doe standing in the crosshairs, tense but not bolting. Whatever had happened to her, it had left her wary and on edge, and Colt knew he'd need to tread lightly.

"You look better," he said, keeping his tone easy, as if she wasn't the most captivating thing he'd ever seen standing barefoot in his guest room. His gaze swept over her, lingering just a moment longer than it should have, but he reined himself in. His wolf grumbled with impatience, but Colt pushed the urge down.

"You're…" Briar's voice faltered as she searched his face. "I think I've seen you before."

He smiled at her. She felt it too. She might not know what it was, but he was sure she felt it. "We've crossed paths. You collapsed in my arms the other night. Quite the dramatic entrance."

"You…" she began again, but the words trailed off.

"You don't need to be afraid," he said softly, trying to reassure her.

Briar seemed to falter. "I'm not. What's your name?"

He tilted his head. "Colt." Short. Simple. To the point.

Colt watched her closely, waiting. He needed to let her take her time. He actually needed to know more to know how much to push.

"Colt…" she whispered as if she was testing his name on her lips.

He felt the corners of his mouth rise. He could sense the effect he had on her and was glad of it. Colt took another step closer. For a long moment, they stood in silence, the only sound that of their breaths mingling in the sunlit room.

"You've been through a lot," he rumbled. "Why don't you sit and rest? We'll talk when you're ready. You'll find some clothes that should fit in the dresser." Colt stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for one last moment as he turned to leave. "You can stay as long as you need. This is Copper Canyon Ranch, just outside Austin." Leaning against the door frame, he watched her face. "You burst into the dining hall two nights ago. It looked like you were... running from something."

Briar tightened the robe around her as if it could shield her from the truth in his words.

Colt noticed the shift in her expression and offered her a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to tell me now. Whatever it is, whenever you're ready." He paused before adding, "You're welcome here. Make yourself at home."

Briar nodded slowly, but didn't seem inclined to say anything else. After a moment he went through the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Almost as if on cue, the sound of footsteps approached, and Etta appeared in the hallway, a tray balanced expertly in her hands. The older woman arched an eyebrow at Colt and then at the door.

"Figured you'd want to make sure she got fed," Etta said, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Colt chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at Etta's unspoken teasing. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, stepping aside to let her pass. "Make sure she eats, will you?"

Etta gave him a look that practically said ‘ Don't I always?' and walked to the door, waiting for him to open it. "You just focus on whatever it is you do," she said dryly as she entered, setting the tray down on the small table by the window.

Colt chuckled again, the sound low and easy. Etta's teasing was a welcome distraction, grounding him in the familiar rhythm of life on the ranch.

He stepped back into the doorway after the woman. "This is Etta; she's been looking after you and will do so until she decides you can look after yourself." Etta made a dismissive snort, bringing a smile to Colt's face. "Get some rest."

With one last glance at Briar—her green eyes watching him, still cautious but without fear—he tipped his head in a small nod. She returned the gesture, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her gaze—a flicker of trust, perhaps—that made his chest tighten. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Satisfied that she was in good hands, Colt turned away from her room. He could feel the obligation of his responsibilities as he left the guest room behind, but the thought of Briar lingered, warm and persistent in the back of his mind.

This was only the beginning, and Colt knew he had a long road ahead of him. But one thing was certain—he wasn't letting Briar go. Not in this lifetime or any others to come. She was his fated mate, and he meant to claim her as such.

Colt made his way downstairs, his boots thudding against the hardwood with the steady rhythm of someone forcing himself to follow routine. His wolf itched to stay near Briar, to remain close and guard her, but he knew better. His presence made her nervous, though it wasn't fear—not exactly. It was something else. She'd looked at him with something almost like recognition, but there had been uncertainty too, as though she wasn't sure what to do with the pull between them.

In some ways he found it reassuring as she seemed to feel the bond between them, just didn't know what it was or what to do with it. But at least she hadn't rejected him, not outright.

Colt exhaled slowly as he reached the bottom of the stairs. If he hovered, he'd only make things worse. She needed space to get her bearings, and he needed to keep his head clear. There was work to do, horses to check on, and other tasks to keep his restless wolf in line. For now, he would give her the room to breathe, even if it gnawed at him not to be close.

Outside, the sun had climbed higher, burning off the lingering mist that had come with the dawn. The ranch stretched out before him, alive with the steady hum of work—cattle and horses being tended to, ranch hands going about their business, and the rhythmic clang of gates opening and closing. Colt's boots made a distinctive sound against the hard-packed dirt as he headed toward the round corral where his youngest brother, Bryce, was working a young horse.

The unbroke mare circled the pen, tossing her head and kicking up dust as Bryce whistled and swung the lunge line. The young horse resisted at first, then grudgingly fell into step with the rhythm Bryce set, her ears flicking back and forth, half listening and half testing his patience.

Colt crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the fence to watch. "She's stubborn," he commented, nodding toward the horse.

Bryce shot him a grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Yeah, well, mares generally are. You don't so much as tell a mare as you ask her. They're kind of like most females, stubborn comes naturally, especially if they're being forced." Bryce clicked his tongue at the horse, bringing her back around with a steady hand.

"Why is it I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something?"

Bryce shrugged, "Because you're smarter than most people think?"

Colt grunted, watching as Bryce worked the mare with an easy confidence. His brother had a gift with horses—patience and persistence, the right balance between firmness and gentleness. It was a skill Colt had always admired, though it drove him crazy when Bryce applied the same carefree attitude to everything else in life.

Bryce gave the lunge whip a gentle flick—nowhere near actually touching her with it but enough to send the mare into a smooth trot. Then, with a glance over his shoulder, he shot Colt a smirk that immediately put Colt on edge.

"So," Bryce drawled, dragging the word out, "you gonna tell me about this mystery woman who showed up out of nowhere? Or do I have to guess?"

Colt growled softly, warning him off. "Don't start, Bryce."

Bryce chuckled, clearly not deterred. "Come on, big brother, it's not every day that destiny just drops your fated mate into your hands." He winked, the lunge line still loose in his hand. "Gotta say, I never figured you for the dramatic type."

Colt's wolf bristled, stirring beneath his skin, but he kept himself in check. "She's been through hell," he said, his voice low and firm. "Back off, Bryce. This isn't a joke."

Bryce held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "All right, all right. No need to growl at me, Alpha." His grin widened. "Just saying, if she's the one, maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to handle her and the rest of the pack. At least Etta's on her side."

"What do you mean?" Colt asked, shooting him a look that promised retribution.

"Nothing much, but when she overheard a couple of she-wolves grumbling, she set them straight."

Before Colt could say anything else, the sharp scent of perfume hit his nose—an unwelcome interruption that made his mood sour further.

"Colt," Elle's voice cooed, smooth as silk and every bit as irritating. She sidled up to him, her hand trailing along the top of the fence in what she probably thought was a coy gesture. Her smile was practiced, sly, and Colt could already feel the headache forming.

"I was just thinking," Elle said sweetly, "about that little discussion we had a couple of days ago. You know… about your need for a mate." Her gaze flicked between Colt and Bryce, the latter of which was clearly enjoying the exchange far too much. "The pack should probably circle back to that if and when you're ready."

For a second, Colt was startled—he'd forgotten completely about that conversation. Briar tumbling into their lives had put an end to that need.

He cleared his throat, keeping his tone even but firm. "Don't worry about that, Elle. It won't be necessary."

Her smile faltered, surprise flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Colt turned toward her, his expression cool. "I mean it's taken care of."

Elle's smile slipped further, irritation creeping into her features. "Taken care of?" she echoed, her tone sharp. "You can't just change your mind..."

"Yes, I can," Colt cut her off, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of an alpha. "And I just did."

The irritation on her face deepened, her lips pressing into a thin line. But Colt held her gaze, unyielding. Whatever plans Elle might have had, they didn't matter anymore.

"Go on, Elle," he said, his voice low but leaving no room for argument. "This conversation is over."

Her eyes flashed with annoyance, but she didn't dare argue. With a sharp huff, she turned on her heel and stalked off, her boots kicking up little puffs of dust as she went.

Bryce snorted, clearly entertained by the whole exchange. "You know she's not going to take that well, right?"

Colt gave a low, rumbling chuckle, the tension easing slightly now that Elle was gone. "When does she ever?"

Bryce leaned against the fence, grinning like a fool. "You're gonna have to make an announcement soon, Colt. Otherwise, Elle won't be the only one coming after you. Once word gets out, every eligible she-wolf in the pack—and some outside it—are going to come sniffing around."

Colt shot him a dark look, though there was a trace of amusement behind it. "Thanks for the warning, little brother."

Bryce's grin only widened. "Anytime, Alpha."

Colt shook his head, chuckling quietly as he turned back toward the house. His wolf stirred within him, eager to check on Briar, but Colt pushed the instinct down. She needed time—small steps. There was no need to rush, no need to overwhelm her with things she couldn't yet understand.

She was his fated mate, whether she knew it or not. And whatever it took, he would protect her because now that he'd found her, there was no going back. He would never let her go.