Ezra starts wheezing, unable to breathe under the crushing pressure of Colt's hand. Veins bulge on Colt's arm, showcasing the raw force he’s exerting. Suddenly, Colt lifts Ezra by the scruff of his neck—a massive feat of strength, considering Ezra is an Alpha male, typically far larger and stronger than the average werewolf.

Colt swings and hurls him. Ezra crashes through a set of double doors, shattering the wood.

But as soon as he hits the ground, Ezra scrambles back up, lunging at Colt. Colt waits, then drives his leg upward, catching Ezra square in the chest mid-air. The force is so devastating that Ezra whimpers upon impact. Even though he tries to rise, he eventually collapses, staying down.

"Stay down!" Colt shouts.

Ezra obeys. He’s clearly injured, but it's the sheer command in Colt's voice that keeps him pinned to the floor.

Colt turns to me with frantic eyes. "Are you okay?!"

Exhaustion washes over me, and all I can do is stare at him, breathing heavily in my wolf form. He picks me up and carries me up the stairs with ease, taking me straight to his bathroom. He places me in the tub and turns on the warm water.

"Shift, baby girl," he says, his tone softening.

I do as he asks. I whine as my bones shift and my body reverts to human form, the pain of my wounds flaring up. The moment I regain my voice, I start to cry. The wounds are deep, but I’ll live. It’s clear Ezra wasn't trying to kill me, even if he did lose control.

"You are staying with me from now on," Colt says as he begins to clean my skin with a soft towel.

I don't argue. He’s right; it’s for the best. Seeing Ezra lose control like that truly terrified me.

After he bathes me, he wraps me in a towel and sits me on the bed, patching my wounds with gauze and tape. By tomorrow, I should be much better. When he’s done, he lays me down, covers me with the sheets, and curls up behind me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Is the door locked?" I ask, still fearful that Ezra might come bursting through.

"Yes," Colt says.

That brings me some comfort, though I know a locked door wouldn't stop a determined werewolf.

"Don't worry, I'm here. And in three days, you won't have to worry about any of this."

"Why three days?"

"In three days, I leave for the city on business. You’re coming with me."

"What? The city?"

"Yeah. That’s why I was talking to my father. I knew I couldn't leave you here with Ezra on the prowl. I’m taking you with me."

"I... I've never been to the city."

"Never?" he asks, surprised.

I shake my head. "I rarely leave the pack. James took me and Lauren to a small town years ago, but that’s it."

"Then I guess you're going to experience something new with me." As he says this, he cuddles closer. It’s odd to see this side of him—sweet and loving. No one has ever treated me this way. Since he returned, everyone else sees the stoic, emotionless Colt, but in the quiet of this room, he’s a different man. I love that I’m the only one who sees this side of him.

I turn to face him. He leans in as if to kiss me, but I press a hand to his chest, holding him back.

"Do you... you really want to be with me?" I ask.

"Cass, that's what I've been telling you."

"I know, but this is hard for me to accept. No one other than James and Lauren has ever been kind to me. No one has ever really

wanted

me. This is all I’ve ever known."

"I know. I'm trying to be patient," he says, smiling gently. "The truth is, I’m not going to force you. I want you, and I’m going to show you how much. I’m not giving up, but I’m not forcing anything. I promise, Cass—I will never hurt you the way Ezra has, or the way I treated you before."

"So... you're not playing games?"

He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "No. Never."

"Okay. Then I will... try. I won't push you away anymore."

His mouth curves into a wide smile, and he goes in for a kiss, but I place a finger over his lips.

"Starting in three days."

"What?" He laughs. "Why three days?"

"Because we’re leaving, right?"

"Yes, early morning."

"If you kiss me right now, I bet Ezra will come bursting through those doors."

"Let him."

"No. I’m tired of the fighting. Even if he deserves it, I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"But you will in three days?"

I laugh. "Well, I won't have to watch, and at least he can't get to me. It’s his own fault for not accepting the rejection."

"Agreed," he says, pulling me into a hug.

"So I have to endure it until Friday..." he sighs.

"Hey, I didn't say we were going to

do

anything. Don't get any ideas, Sir."

He laughs. "You, in nothing but that towel, give me plenty of ideas. Some of which require you to stretch those legs over my shoulders."

"Fuck! Why do you say things like that?!" I hide my face, smacking his shoulder. He just laughs. When he talks like that, I imagine it, and it makes me... turned on. Werewolves have a keen sense of smell—he can smell that reaction.

"I should probably go home and pack," I say, trying to change the subject.

"Now?!"

"Well... I’ve never had to pack like this. I need a list."

He stares at me, and I can see he’s fighting back a laugh.

"Okay, fine! It’s just anxiety. It can wait until tomorrow."

He chuckles. "It can wait. Stay here with me."

I close my eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "Mh... I do like it here."

"Then rest. Let me take care of you."

I drift off, and when I wake, it’s dark. Colt is lying next to me.

"I fell asleep," I mutter.

Colt stirs. "Yeah..." He looks at the clock. "It's almost five in the morning."

Shit.

I was knocked out.

I turn to face him, finding a comfortable position. He opens his eyes, those beautiful green orbs staring into mine.

"I wish I could mark you right now," he whispers.

My eyes widen. "You can't."

"I know. I’m just saying, I wish I could."

If he did, it would solve everything. But until Ezra accepts my rejection, I can’t be anyone else’s mate. A temporary mark would only drive Ezra into a murderous rage.

The mate bond is an exhausting complication.

He nuzzles my hair and kisses the top of my head, then gets up, stripping off his clothes.

"Want to shower with me?"

"Nope," I say quickly as he playfully dangles his towel in my face.

"Worth a try..." he mutters.

"Funny," I say with a smirk.

When he turns, I bite my lip, unable to hide how attractive I find him. He’s a piece of art, scars and all. I feel lucky that he wants me, but it scares me—luck has never been on my side. Deep down, I know I deserve good things, but my stubborn brain fights that thought.

I wrap myself in his sheets, feeling lonely the moment he’s out of sight, though his scent lingers. I stare at the ceiling, and something within me snaps.

How stupid can you be? Hell yeah, I’m taking a shower with him!

I get up and walk into the bathroom, where steam blurs the air. I drop the towel and shed the gauze from my wounds. With renewed resolve, I open the shower door.

Colt looks at me, surprised. "You... changed your mind?"

I nod and step inside.

"But you can't touch me," I warn, moving under the spray as he sidesteps.

"I can't touch you?" He chuckles, and immediately, his hand finds my hip. "Colt—"

"Relax. I'm just checking your wounds."

"How do they look?"

"Deeper than we thought. Still healing," he says.

Colt’s lips suddenly press against my shoulder.

"Colt!"

"So... I can't touch you, you said?" he murmurs, his warm breath tickling my skin.

"No," I say sternly.

"She walks naked into my shower and says I can't touch her... the audacity."

I laugh at his narration. "I'm serious. We can't do anything."

"I hear you, I just don't agree."

"Well, you have to."

Suddenly, he takes both my hands, pulling them over my head and gently pressing my back against the tiled wall. He holds my arms up with one hand—careless in appearance, but incredibly gentle.

"C-Colt..." I whisper.

"What

can't

we do?" he whispers, his lips grazing my cheek.

"No kissing..."

"No kissing... got it." His lips slide down my neck, not quite kissing, just brushing against my pulse. I’m unable to speak. He continues to caress my body with his lips, moving down to my chest. His warm breath sends shivers down my spine. He doesn't kiss; he just traces my skin.

I shiver, wanting him to take me, to kiss and suck, but I forbade it, and this feels like torture. My skin prickles, my insides aching.

He leaves my breasts and drops to a knee, holding my hips. My hands tangle in his wet hair.

"That's enough..." I manage to whisper.

With hazed eyes, he looks up at me. The hunger in his expression thrills me. To have a man like him at my feet—I feel powerful. He stands, inches away, staring down at my lips.

"Just know... in my head, I’m having my way with you."

I laugh, the tension breaking. "You torturous brat."

"And now, I’m soaping you up."

"That's the same thing as touching me!"

"No, it's not. I'm just cleaning you."

I have no time to protest before he’s lathering me in soap. I shake my head, deciding to just let it happen.