Page 6

6

COLT

A s the meal winds down, the pack slips into their routine—clearing tables, laughter and conversation flowing around the room. I sit back, letting the commotion swirl past me, content to watch.

Magnolia catches my eye, handing her friend’s baby back with a lingering smile, tucking a curl behind her ear. She moves like she belongs in every corner of this place—unhurried, at home.

I try not to stare. Fail. Even gathering plates, balancing a precarious stack, she’s still chatting, her laugh soft and genuine. She doesn’t just fit here—she’s the thread holding it all together.

I push back my chair, slipping past a teenager hauling a tower of cups. Sticking close to the wall, I make my way toward the hall behind the kitchen, where the dining room noise fades. A quick exit.

Then—movement.

Before I can react, I almost collide with Magnolia.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, stumbling back as we nearly collide. Her arms are full, a precarious stack of plates wobbling dangerously, and for a moment, it feels like the whole pile is about to come crashing down.

Instinct kicks in before thought. My hands catch her wrists, steadying the load.

She sucks in a breath.

“Hold still,” I rasp, rougher than I mean to be. One hand shifts to the top of the stack, keeping the plates from tipping, while the other lingers on her forearm, her warmth bleeding into my skin.

I’ve never touched her before. It’s about to fucking ruin me.

She stills, dark eyes snapping up to mine, pulse fluttering under my fingers.

“Thanks,” she breathes, soft, unsteady. The flush on her cheeks—yeah, it’s not just from the near disaster.

Her hands shift, fingers brushing mine as she adjusts her grip. A spark zips through me, low and hot. I don’t let go. Not yet. The hallway shrinks around us, the world outside muffled by the pounding in my ears.

Even with a stack of plates between us, I can feel it. She can too.

“You good?” My voice comes out rough.

She nods, but her gaze stays locked on mine. “Yeah,” she whispers, lips parting like she wants to say something else. Instead, her eyes flick down—to where I’m still holding her.

Fuck.

I let go, stepping back like it costs me. The plates are steady now, but I’m not. Her scent—vanilla and wildflowers—clings to the air, too sweet, too close.

Too damn tempting.

“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Were you sneaking off?” she asks, her tone light but with just enough teasing to make me feel caught.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Not much for group clean-up.”

Magnolia’s lips twitch. “Figures.”

The plates shift in her arms again, and I nod toward the dining hall. “You should probably get those where they’re going before someone bumps into you,” I say, gesturing toward the kitchen door down the hall. “Need a hand?”

Her laugh is soft, melodic, and it does something to me—a key turning in a lock, unleashing a hungry beast. “Apparently I do,” she says, holding out the plates slightly, like she’s testing me.

I step forward, taking the top half of the stack from her hands. Our fingers brush again, just briefly, but it’s enough to send another spark through me. She notices it too—I can see it in the way her breath catches, her eyes flicking to mine for just a second longer than they should.

And her scent…it’s stronger than ever, almost overpowering.

If I see this girl on the full moon…we won’t have a choice.

I’ll take her, claim her—whether we want to or not.

“Thanks,” she says again, clearly flustered. “Um…it’s this way.”

She tilts her head and starts walking, and it’s all I can do to follow her down the hall. A few people pass by, some shooting suspicious glances my way. Grant wasn’t kidding; this girl is important to the pack. Magnolia doesn’t seem to notice at all, glancing over her shoulder.

“I hope Frankie hasn’t been giving you too much grief,” she says.

I chuckle. “Oh, is she like this with everyone?” I ask. “Thought she might have a crush on me.”

Magnolia doesn’t laugh; in fact, she frowns. I come up to walk at her side, looking down at her. “I’m kidding,” I tell her.

She smiles, then, lighting up. “Oh…right,” she says, shaking her head. She seems to realize what just happened a second later, blushing rose red once again. “Not that I would care.”

I smirk. “Wouldn’t mind if you did, though.”

Fuck, I’m just asking for trouble, aren’t I?

And Magnolia is clearly flustered, because her voice is high and reedy when we reach the kitchen. “We’re here,” she says. “Just um…this way. Yeah, you can put the dishes in the sink.”

I step into the kitchen behind Magnolia, the noise of the dining hall fading into the background. Magnolia heads toward the sink, her arms still full of plates. She’s graceful, gorgeous—and she has no idea.

“Right here?” I ask, stepping closer as she sets her plates in the sink.

“Yeah,” she says quickly, avoiding my gaze as she busies herself with stacking the dishes properly. Her cheeks are still flushed, and I don’t miss the way her hands fumble slightly.

I lean against the counter, setting my plates down beside hers, but I don’t step back. Instead, I stay close. “You’re pretty good at this, you know.”

She glances at me, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “At what? Doing dishes?”

“No,” I say, my voice dropping a little. “At pretending you’re not flustered.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I see the way her lips part, just barely, as if she’s about to protest. But she doesn’t. Instead, her gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels too heavy, too hot.

“I’m not—” she starts, but I cut her off, leaning in just enough to make my point.

“You are,” I say, the words meant for her ears alone. “And it’s kind of adorable.”

Her breath catches, and her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. She doesn’t step back, though. If anything, she leans slightly closer, like she can’t help herself.

“You’re a lot, you know that?” she murmurs.

I huff a low laugh. “You have no idea.”

Her scent wraps around me, sweet vanilla and wildflowers.Her gaze flicks to my mouth—quick, fleeting—but it feels like a dare.

A challenge I want to take.

She catches herself, cheeks flushing rose gold, too damn sweet for the thoughts running through my head. She looks away, her voice shaking but firm. “You should probably get back. Someone will notice you’re gone.”

“Let ’em.” My tone stays low, unapologetic. I don’t move. Hell, I can’t move—not with her standing this close, her lips parted just enough to make me wonder how they’d feel against mine. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Her gaze snaps back, wide, uncertain. Her breath hitches.

“I’m not…” she starts, but her voice falters. She swallows hard, eyes dropping to my mouth again.

This time, she doesn’t look away.

I lean in, just slightly. “Not what?” My voice is rough, more growl than words. My fingers brush her wrist, and she shivers.

“I’m…I want…” Her voice is barely there, dissolving into the charged air between us.

“What do you want, Magnolia?” I press, close enough to see the way her pupils blow wide, the way her lips tremble on a shaky breath. Close enough to hear the little catch in her throat when I shift even closer.

Her scent spikes, thick and heady. My wolf roars . I know exactly what it means. She feels it too—this pull, this connection that doesn’t make any damn sense but refuses to be ignored.

“I…” she whispers, her voice breaking on the edge of surrender. Her fingers brush mine, soft, uncertain, driving me insane.

And just as I’m about to push her for more—just as I’m about to find out exactly what she’s trying so damn hard not to say?—

The sound of footsteps echoes down the hall, growing louder with each second. Whoever’s coming, they mean business–and I step back just as a short, stern woman walks into the kitchen, her gaze immediately locking onto us. She takes in the scene—Magnolia standing too close to the sink, her cheeks flushed, me leaning against the counter with a smirk I can’t quite hide—and her expression sharpens.

“Magnolia,” she says, her tone calm but carrying enough weight to remind me exactly who she is. “I thought you’d be finished by now.”

Magnolia straightens, her shoulders tensing slightly. “Just wrapping up, Mom,” she says quickly, her voice lighter than it was a moment ago. “Colt was just helping with the dishes.”

Well, shit.

Mom’s eyes flick to me, cool and assessing, and I can see the flicker of suspicion there. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me like she’s waiting for me to slip up.

I meet her gaze evenly, keeping my expression neutral. “Just trying to be helpful,” I say, my tone easy.

She hums, clearly unconvinced and equally unimpressed. Her attention shifts back to Magnolia, her expression softening slightly. “Well, don’t keep him too long. I’m sure he has other things to do.”

Magnolia nods quickly, her gaze dropping as she moves to grab another stack of plates. “Of course. I’ll be out soon, if you need help with Lucy.”

Her mom lingers for a moment longer, her gaze sweeping over me one last time before she turns and walks out of the kitchen. The tension in the room doesn’t ease until the sound of her footsteps fades completely.

Magnolia lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should probably go,” she says, not meeting my eyes.

“Probably,” I agree, but I don’t move. Instead, I lean in just slightly, close enough to catch the faint hitch in her breath. “But for the record,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, “I’m not sorry for staying.”

Her eyes snap to mine, wide and uncertain–but I’m already pushing off of the counter and striding toward the door. Leaving her behind is a challenge, harder than it should be…

But I do.

For now.