Page 24

24

COLT

T he soft creak of the workshop door pulls me out of a restless haze. My wolf stirs immediately, tense and alert, every hair on edge. I sit up in the narrow cot, the blanket pooling at my waist, and listen. Someone’s here.

The sound of footsteps against the concrete floor are quiet, but not quiet enough. My lip curls. Frankie. Of course. She’s been sniffing around since the second I stepped foot in this den, waiting for me to slip up.

Well, she’s not gonna find shit.

“Can’t even leave me alone at night, huh?” My voice is a low growl, rough with the edge of sleep. I swing my legs over the side of the cot, standing. “Whatever you’re looking for, Frankie, you’re not gonna find it.”

But then I catch it—a scent so sweet it knocks the wind out of me.

Wildflowers and honey.

Magnolia.

My wolf settles instantly, the snarl dying in my throat. Shit. I rub a hand over my face, trying to clear my head, but her scent is already curling around me, sinking in deep.

“Magnolia?” I call out.

She steps into view in the doorway from the shop, the moonlight from the window catching the curve of her cheek, her wild and unkempt curls. She’s wearing the same thing she was when we parted ways earlier tonight, and our mingled scents wash over me, soothing me and making me want her all over again.

I should’ve known it was her. No one else moves like that, so quiet and sure at the same time.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I shake my head, still trying to get my bearings. “You didn’t,” I lie, my voice rougher than I’d like. “What are you doing here?”

I cross the small room in a few steps, standing close enough to see the faint flush on her cheeks in the moonlight. Her hands are tangled together, her fingers twisting nervously. It’s not like her to look so unsure, and it sends a strange pang through my chest.

“I’ve just been…” She glances down, her voice soft and hesitant. “Walking. Since I left my parents’ house.”

My brow furrows, my wolf shifting uneasily at the idea of her wandering around alone. Of course, she thinks it’s safe, but I know the Gulf Pack is out there–and that they’re getting antsy. The idea of my mate, an omega, walking outside alone in the middle of the night… “Walking? Magnolia, it’s the middle of the night. What the hell are you doing out by yourself?”

She shrugs, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “I couldn’t stay there. Not after—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head, and her voice drops even lower. “It didn’t go well.”

I study her, the tight line of her shoulders, the way she’s hugging herself like she’s trying to keep from falling apart. I didn’t expect it to go well, but I hate seeing her hurt. The thought of her parents giving her a hard time—because of me—makes my wolf growl low in my chest. I take a step closer, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her.

“What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice soft, even though my blood is already simmering. “What did they say?”

She finally looks up at me, and the pain in her eyes makes my stomach twist. “They think I’m making a mistake,” she says quietly. “They think you’re…dangerous. That I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Her voice wavers, and I hate it. I hate that I’m the reason she’s standing here looking like the weight of the world is crushing her. I drag a hand through my hair, frustration buzzing under my skin.

“Magnolia…” I start, but I don’t know how to finish. I can’t tell her they’re wrong. Hell, they’re not. I am dangerous, and if she knew the whole truth, she’d be running the other way.

She shakes her head, cutting me off. “I tried to tell them they were wrong,” she says. “I told them I trust you. That I know you’d never hurt me.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. Trust.

She said she trusts me. And I don’t deserve it.

“Magnolia…” I take a step back, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to figure out how to fix this without breaking her. “You shouldn’t have to fight with them because of me. They’re your family.”

She lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You think I don’t know that? But they don’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like…this bond.” Her hand drifts to her neck, brushing the spot where I know my mark should be.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “You shouldn’t have to explain it to them,” I say, my voice low. “It’s not fair to you.”

“It’s not about fair,” she says, taking a step closer, her gaze locking with mine. “It’s about what’s right. And you…you feel right. I can’t explain it, Colt, but you do.”

Her words crack something in me, and I feel my control slipping. She’s standing here, telling me she trusts me, that she believes in me, and all I can think about is how much she doesn’t know.

How much I haven’t told her.

How much I want to fuck her senseless.

I close my eyes, trying to hold myself together. “You should go back home, Magnolia,” I say, the words scraping against my throat like sandpaper. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face. I’m hurting her.

"Why?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "I…I thought…was I not good enough last night? I know I’m inexperienced, but–”

Her voice cracks, and the rawness in it guts me. I don’t even let her finish that thought.

“Magnolia, stop,” I growl, stepping closer, closing the space between us. My hands find her arms before I can stop myself, and I grip her more tightly than I meant to. “Don’t you ever think that. Don’t you dare think that. Last night…” My voice dips, rougher now, horny as hell even from the memory–not that I want to say that, not exactly. “Last night was…you have no idea how good you feel. It’s everything. You’re everything.”

Her lips part, her eyes wide and glimmering, and I can see the hurt giving way to a blush. But there’s still doubt there, still that flicker of insecurity that makes my wolf snarl, furious at me for putting it there in the first place.

“Then why?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you pushing me away? If I’m enough for you, why does it feel like you’re trying to run?”

I drag a hand through my hair as I take a step back, the loss of her warmth immediate and jarring. “Because I am running, Magnolia. Not from you. From everything else.” My voice cracks, and I don’t even try to hide it. “I don’t know how to be what you deserve. And I’m scared as hell I’m gonna hurt you, even if I don’t mean to.”

Her brow furrows deeper, and she takes a step toward me, closing the distance I just put between us. “You won’t,” she says firmly, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. “I know you, Colt. You wouldn’t hurt me. Not like that.”

“You don’t know everything,” I say, my voice low, strained. My chest feels tight, like the words are lodged there, clawing their way out. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve been.”

Her hands slide up, one of them cupping my face, forcing me to look at her. “Then tell me,” she whispers, her thumb brushing against my cheek. “Tell me, Colt. Whatever it is you’re afraid of, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Her touch is so gentle, so steady, and it almost burns when she runs her fingers over the delicate bite mark over my pulse. And God, I want to tell her. I want to lay it all bare, let her see every broken, ugly piece of me. But the fear is still there, thick and suffocating. The fear that if I do, she’ll see the monster underneath.

I’m no hero. I’m a self-interested kleptomaniac with a bad habit of running at the first sign of commitment.

But she’s looking at me like I’m more than that, like she sees something in me worth saving. It guts me. She deserves a saint, not some wreck of a man barely holding it together.

This was more fun during the chase. Now that I’ve caught her…what the hell am I supposed to do?

“Magnolia…” My voice cracks on her name, and I hate how weak it sounds, how raw I feel under her gaze. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she says, her thumb stroking over my jaw like she’s trying to soothe me. “But I know what I feel. I know what I see. And I see a man who’s been through hell and back but still has this…this goodness in him. You might not see it, but I do.”

Goodness? Christ, if she only knew. I’ve done things—things I don’t even want to think about, let alone admit. I’ve lied and stolen and hurt people. I’ve been a weapon for others, a tool for destruction. Goodness isn’t in me. Maybe it never has been.

But she says it like it’s a fact, like she’d stake her life on it. And fuck, it makes me want to be that man for her. The one she thinks I am.

The one I know I’ll never be.

“Magnolia, I…” I swallow hard, my throat tight as the words I don’t want to say claw their way out. “I’ve hurt people. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I don’t even want you to know about. You say you see goodness in me, but if you knew—if you really knew—you wouldn’t.”

Her fingers tighten on my jaw, her eyes blazing. “You’re wrong,” she says simply. “I would. Because no matter what you’ve done, no matter what’s happened to you, I see the man you are now. And that’s what matters.”

I’m shaking my head before she’s even finished, the weight of her belief in me too much to bear. I pull away and slump to a seat on the cot and rest my head in my hands. “You don’t understand,” I rasp, my voice breaking. “I don’t even know who I am. Not really. The Host…they took that from me. They took everything from me. My memories, my life—hell, maybe even my soul. What’s left isn’t much, Magnolia. Just scraps. Fragments. And you deserve so much more than that.”

She doesn’t let me escape; she lifts my chin up to face her, then she’s joining me on the cot, straddling me, resting her forehead against mine. Her scent wraps around me, warm and grounding.

It makes me feel like I can breathe again.

“You’re not scraps to me,” she whispers. “You’re not fragments. You’re whole, Colt. Maybe a little battered, a little rough around the edges, but you’re whole.” Her fingers graze over the bite mark again. And you’re mine.”

Her light seeps into every shadowy corner of me, filling the cracks I’ve tried so hard to ignore. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this—to deserve her—but I’m too selfish to push her away again. Not now.

Not when she’s here, looking at me like I’m her whole damn world.

I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers, and I breathe her in. Her scent wraps around me, soothing the chaos inside, quieting the relentless storm that’s been raging since the day I clawed my way out of the Host’s grip. She smells like wildflowers and honey, like spring after a long, brutal winter.

She’s thawing me out, one kiss at a time.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, my voice low and rough. “I’ve never…I’ve never had this before.”

Her hands slide back up to cradle my face again, her thumbs brushing against my cheekbones in slow, gentle strokes. “Neither have I,” she says. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Together. The word settles heavy in my chest, foreign and strange. I let my hands find her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. Her body molds to mine, warm and soft and perfect, and I feel my wolf settle in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“I don’t deserve you,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her temple. “But I’m not strong enough to let you go.”

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes shining. “Then don’t,” she whispers, her voice daring me to argue. “Don’t let me go, Colt. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m just asking you to stay.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat is too tight, my chest too full of things I can’t articulate. Instead, I tilt her chin up and kiss her, pouring every unspoken word, every jagged piece of myself, into the press of my lips against hers.

She melts into me, her hands slipping into my hair, her body pressing closer. I lose myself in the taste of her, in the way she sighs against my mouth like she’s been waiting for this, like she’s been waiting for me. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a promise, one I’m terrified to make but even more terrified to break.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard, her forehead resting against mine again. “I’m staying,” I whisper, the words raw but true. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Her lips curve into a soft smile, and she brushes a kiss against my cheek. “Forever, then,” she says, her voice warm and certain. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”