13. Colton
Chapter 13
Colton
The truck rumbled beneath my hands as I drove, my fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.
The night was cool, the roads quiet, but inside the cab, the air felt thick with something unspoken. I could feel Remy’s tension radiating off him in waves.
He sat stiffly beside me, his shoulders tight, his hands rubbing together in his lap like he was trying to keep them warm.
His knee bounced slightly—an anxious tick I’d started to notice the more time we spent together.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, watching the way his brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He was nervous but wasn’t saying anything.
I should have expected it. This wasn’t just any night—I’d invited him to the full moon run.
For any shifter, it was sacred. A night where we let go, where we ran free under the moon with our pack, shifting into our true forms. It was instinctual, bonding.
It wasn’t something just anyone got invited to. But I wanted him there. Needed him there.
Bringing Remy into this part of my world meant something. And I knew it wasn’t just the pack run that had him on edge.
The red light ahead flickered, and as I slowed to a stop, I reached over without thinking, my hand finding his.
His skin was cool, his fingers still fidgeting until I wrapped my hand around his, squeezing lightly.
“You nervous?” I asked, my voice soft but teasing.
Remy bit his lower lip, then nodded once.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I assured him, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand. “My pack won’t eat you.”
“Hey,” he scoffed, shooting me a sideways look, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Still, his grip tightened around mine.
“It’s not just your pack mates I’m meeting,” he murmured. “It’s your parents too, right?”
There it was. The real reason for his nerves. I glanced at him again, and for the first time tonight, I noticed how pale he looked.
His lips had a slight press to them, his usual guarded expression slipping just enough for me to see the vulnerability beneath.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “They got back from their cruise a couple of days ago.”
I hesitated, then added, “Ethan already told them about you.”
Remy’s brows lifted, his shoulders tensing.
“Great,” he muttered. “So they already have an opinion of me before they even meet me.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” I said quickly, but he didn’t look convinced.
I sighed, pulling into the compound’s parking lot, easing the truck into a spot near the main house. I cut the engine, letting the silence settle between us.
The soft glow of the porch lights illuminated the sprawling space ahead—the heart of the pack’s land, the place I called home.
Before Remy could move, I reached for him again. This time, I cupped the side of his face, my fingers skimming along the sharp angle of his jaw, tilting his head toward me.
His breath hitched. His lashes fluttered.
I leaned in, brushing my lips against his softly, slowly. Just enough to feel the warmth of him, to taste the faint hint of coffee he’d had earlier.
He let out a breath, and for the first time tonight, his hands stopped fidgeting. When I pulled back, his eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, his breath uneven.
“You’re gonna be great,” I murmured, my voice firm, certain. “Just be yourself. My pack’s gonna love you.”
More importantly, I already did.
He swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay.”
I smiled, brushing my thumb over his cheek one last time before pulling away, reaching for my door handle.
“Come on,” I said, flashing him a grin. “Let’s do this.”
We entered the main pack house. The dining hall buzzed with the warm hum of conversation, the clinking of plates, and the occasional burst of laughter.
It smelled like home—like spices, roasted meat, and fresh bread. I led Remy inside, keeping a hand on the small of his back as we wove through the tables.
“You hungry?” I asked, glancing at him.
Remy nodded but looked distracted, his eyes scanning the room, his shoulders still holding onto a trace of tension.
I could tell the weight of meeting my pack was getting to him, but I wanted to make it as easy as possible before the run. I took every chance I could to introduce him to my pack mates.
There wasn’t any big announcement or fanfare—just me pulling him into casual conversations, making sure he felt like part of things.
It worked. Slowly, I saw the tension leave his body. His smiles became more genuine, his responses less guarded. Relief loosened something tight in my chest.
Then we turned a corner—and there they were. My parents. And Ethan.
Remy froze beside me. I felt it in the way his fingers twitched, in the barely perceptible breath he took. I wasn’t worried, though. Before he could overthink it, my mom was already moving.
“Oh, finally!” she gushed, sweeping Remy into a hug so tight that I heard the little startled noise he made.
I bit back a grin as his arms came up awkwardly, hesitating before resting lightly on her back. My dad stood next to them, a warm, knowing smile on his face as he watched the interaction unfold.
When my mom finally pulled back, she held Remy at arm's length, beaming at him.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she said, sincerity in every word. “I was so worried Colton would end up alone and grumpy, married to the restaurant.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”
“What? It’s true.” She turned back to Remy, completely unbothered by my exasperation. “You should’ve seen him before you came along—so serious, so focused. I was starting to think he’d never bring anyone home.”
Remy let out a quiet laugh, some of the tension in his posture easing.
“I’m right here, you know,” I muttered.
“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand dismissively before linking her arm with Remy’s. “Come on, let’s get you some food before the run.”
By the time we sat down to eat, Remy had relaxed more, laughing at my mom’s playful jabs and listening attentively as my dad asked him about himself.
Even Ethan, who usually kept to himself, made an effort to engage in conversation. It felt… natural. Right.
After we finished, I led Remy outside to the gathering area in front of the main pack house.
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, the distant sound of wolves already shifting and stretching in preparation for the run.
Then I felt it—the way Remy’s grip on my hand tightened. I turned my head just as he looked up at me, his voice quieter than usual.
“Can we… talk in private?” Remy asked.
A flicker of worry crossed his face, and without hesitation, I nodded, leading him toward a quieter spot away from the crowd.
“What’s wrong?” I asked gently, watching him closely.
He hesitated, then exhaled, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting back to mine.
“I’m really worried I won’t be able to shift,” he said, his voice small, uncertain. “I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”
Something in my chest tightened.
I reached for him without thinking, pulling him close, wrapping an arm around his waist while my other hand cupped his cheek.
“Remy,” I murmured, brushing my thumb lightly against his skin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I’m not worried about that. Not even a little.”
His throat bobbed, his lips parted slightly, like he wanted to believe me but didn’t quite trust himself.
I tilted my head, softening my voice. “You’ve got nothing to prove here. If you’re really uncomfortable, we can leave. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well.”
His brows furrowed. “But you’ve been looking forward to this.”
I smiled. “And I’ll have plenty more full moon runs. But there’s only one you.”
His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at me. Then, finally, he exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“Okay,” he murmured.
“Good.” I pressed a brief kiss to his forehead before stepping back. “But I don’t think we’ll need a backup plan. You’ve got this.”
He took another breath, steadier this time. Slowly, he nodded. When the time came to shift, I squeezed his hand one last time before stepping back.
Then, without hesitation, I pulled off my shirt and stripped down, the cool air brushing against my skin before I let my wolf take over.
Shifting was second nature, my body surging forward as fur rippled over my skin, bones cracking and reforming in a fluid, seamless motion.
My wolf stood tall, shaking out his fur, stretching, feeling the power of the full moon humming in his veins.
I turned to Remy, stepping closer and nudging my head gently against his hand in reassurance.
He inhaled deeply. And then—he shifted. Smoothly. Effortlessly. He blinked, as if surprised. His wolf form was smaller than mine, sleek and fast, his fur dark and thick.
He looked at me, then down at his paws, and I swore I saw a flicker of stunned relief in his eyes.
I huffed out a breath, nudging his side playfully. See?
Remy let out a small, pleased sound before pushing back against me. His worries had been unfounded.
* * *
The full moon cast its silver glow over the Pecan Pines woods, illuminating the wolves weaving through the trees.
The pack’s energy was electric—wild—but beneath it all, there was something calmer, something playful. I felt it in the way Remy stayed close, the tension he’d carried earlier melting away with every stride.
I turned just in time to catch him nipping at my fur, his teeth barely grazing my shoulder before he bounced away with a playful huff.
Oh, so that’s how it is?
I let out a sharp breath through my nose, mock-growling as I snapped at him in return, but he was already darting ahead, his dark fur blending in with the shadows of the trees.
The chase was on. We ran, dodging through the thick pines, sometimes brushing against each other, sometimes leaping over fallen logs in perfect sync.
I could feel Remy’s joy—his exhilaration—and it sent a deep, primal satisfaction coursing through me. This was how it should’ve always been. This was what he deserved.
When we drifted away from the pack, I didn’t call him back. I didn’t need to.
Remy followed me willingly, his paws light against the forest floor. His wolf’s eyes were bright and playful as he nudged my side.
I surged forward in response, throwing him a challenge, my tail flicking as I pushed into a sprint. Catch me if you can. For half a second, Remy hesitated.
Then he launched after me, his paws kicking up leaves as he raced to keep up.
I grinned inwardly, pushing myself faster, leading him deeper into the woods, taking the winding path I knew by heart. And then—there it was.
The lake. Moonlight stretched across its surface, rippling with the night breeze, making the water look like it was made of liquid silver.
The moment we reached the edge, I shifted first, my human form taking over. I turned to watch Remy follow suit. He was stunning.
The moonlight cast shadows across his bare skin, highlighting the strong lines of his body, the curve of his throat as he tilted his head back, catching his breath.
His hair was tousled from the run, and his eyes—filled with exhilaration, freedom—locked onto mine with a look that sent heat curling in my chest.
“That was amazing,” he said, voice breathless with wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like that with my old pack.”
The warmth in me turned sharp, just for a moment. The Thornebane Pack had done a number on him—on his confidence, on his ability to trust his own instincts.
He’d been made to believe he wasn’t good enough, that shifting was a struggle, that he didn’t belong. It made something deep inside me burn, but I forced the anger down.
Tonight wasn’t about them. It was about Remy. About us.
I stepped forward, cupping his face gently, my thumb brushing across his cheekbone as I tipped his chin up.
“I don’t think you had any problems at all,” I murmured.
Remy’s lips parted slightly, his breath hitching.
“You were just with the wrong pack,” I whispered before I closed the distance, capturing his lips in a kiss.
He melted against me, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders, pulling me in like he needed me closer, like he wanted to believe what I’d said.
When we finally pulled apart, his smile was soft, a little dazed, but filled with something lighter.
“I think you’re right,” he admitted, his voice just above a whisper.
I smiled back, pressing my forehead to his.
He wasn’t just part of my pack now.
He was also mine.