Chapter Nineteen
COLBY
Colby didn’t know what he’d expected, walking out of the house in clothes that weren’t his, on a ranch where most of the pack probably still thought he was the enemy. But it wasn’t this—Tristan bumping shoulders familiarly with him as they walked, and handing him gloves with a smile like the sun.
His smile gave no clue that he’d ever been locked in the brig, waiting to die.
Colby was glad it hadn’t marked Tristan.
He thought maybe Tristan still didn’t fully understand what he’d been facing—not just death, but the kind designed to break him first. And Colby was more glad of that than he’d been of anything, ever.
“We’re on stall-cleaning today,” Tristan said cheerfully. “That okay with you?”
“Of course,” Colby said immediately.
“And with two of us, we’ll get it done in half the time.”
They took a little longer than half the time because they chatted as they worked. Or rather, Tristan talked and Colby listened. Tristan’s mind fascinated him, how he could veer from discussing feed quality to talking about the effects of meteorites on soil minerals, without missing a beat.
Tristan finished his last stall before Colby had done his, and he leaned against the door frame, hip cocked, shirt long since discarded. A muscle shirt clung to his torso, soft with wear, and Colby’s fork stilled mid-scoop.
Because God, Tristan’s arms. Lean and muscled, and all that tanned skin… And those slender hips. He had to grip the wooden handle hard to stop himself from reaching for them.
Eventually, he tore his eyes away and met Tristan’s gaze.
Tristan was smiling, looking both pleased and a little self-conscious.
Like he wasn’t used to being wanted that way.
Which made no sense, unless everyone in the world was walking around with their eyes shut.
Though, maybe Tristan’s smile and the enthusiasm and goodness that overflowed in him were what people saw first and were fascinated by.
That had been the case for Colby. But now he was spending more time with Tristan, he was realizing all the other things about him—the length of his legs, the corded muscle in his forearms from the work he did on the ranch, and his ass. Yup, his ass was a whole new subject. Colby was staring again.
“Let me help finish this one, then we can wash up and get a drink,” Tristan said.
Last of the soiled bedding dealt with, Colby followed him to what turned out to be a tack room. He managed to tear his gaze away from Tristan’s ass eventually, but then became entranced by the way sunlight lit the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. Tristan was mesmerizing.
The tack room was quiet and cool, dust motes drifting in the beam of light that shone through a high window. A deep sink was set into a scuffed wooden counter, with hand soap and a couple of towels nearby.
Tristan turned on the faucet and shoved his hands under the water, hissing at the chill.
“You’d think with all the upgrades Christian’s done around here, he could’ve splurged on a hot tap.
” Then he wrinkled his nose. “Except that’d mean putting in a heater somewhere out here, and you’d need insulation and pressure regulation, because once you’ve got a heater, it’s technically a closed section, and when the water expands, the pressure spikes.
So, a relief valve, maybe an expansion tank, which is…
yeah, definitely more hassle than Christian’s up for. Still, cold water sucks.”
He glanced over his shoulder and choked slightly. “Seriously, you keep standing there looking like that, soap’s gonna go everywhere.”
Colby blinked. This was a playful Tristan he hadn’t seen before.
But he liked it. God, he liked it, because it meant Tristan wasn’t offended by the way Colby couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.
More than that—he was flirting. It had been a long time since Colby last flirted, but he remembered how it went. He thought.
He stepped up beside Tristan. “Didn’t realize I was so distracting.”
“You have no idea,” Tristan said, and grinned.
Their hands brushed as they passed the soap back and forth. Colby’s breath hitched slightly, and Tristan froze for half a second, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Then he said, quietly, “Is this okay?”
Colby nodded. “Yeah.”
Tristan dried his hands before turning to face him fully. They were standing close enough that Colby could feel the heat of him, smell the faint clean citrus of whatever soap Tristan had just used, and the deeper scent that was just him.
Tristan reached up slowly, fingertips brushing Colby’s jaw. They were still cold from the water, but Colby didn’t think that was why he shivered. Tristan’s voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “You keep looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you really want to touch me.”
Colby swallowed. “I kind of do,” he confessed quietly.
He didn’t wait anymore. He stepped in, hands finding Tristan’s hips, and kissed him.
It was messier and hungrier than their earlier ones.
Their mouths opened fast, tongues sliding together, Colby chasing the taste of him like it was the only thing that mattered.
Tristan made a soft noise—wanting—and pulled him closer, fingers digging into Colby’s back.
They kissed until the world narrowed to just that—mouths and hands and the connection sparking bright between them. Something fierce curled under Colby’s skin, slow and stretching, like it was remembering how to feel.
Colby broke the kiss first, but only because he needed to breathe. Even then, he stayed close.
“Okay,” Tristan whispered, a little breathless. “So that was… Yeah.”
Colby huffed a soft laugh, his hands still on Tristan’s hips, not ready to let go. “Yeah.”
Eventually, Tristan stepped back, his cheeks a little flushed. “We should probably do something responsible now. Like, you know, grab a drink. Before I decide to stay here with you forever.”
Colby smiled at him, slow and fond. “Lead the way.”
As they stepped together into the bright morning sun, Colby took a deep breath of fresh, clean air. And in the place where his wolf had long been silent, something changed. Just a flicker—a faint sense of something.