Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-nine
COLBY
The kitchen was its usual chaotic self as the pack gathered for dinner. Everyone was there except Karl and Dave, and Colby wasn’t going to think about the reason Karl was missing.
Eventually, like a strange game of Tetris, they clicked into place—food claimed, chairs dragged, space made, until everyone was settled around the table.
“How’s Mr. Garrity’s book coming along?” Matt asked Riley.
Colby had the feeling that, although Matt wanted to know the answer, he’d asked mainly to set the tone for the meal.
What had happened this morning wasn’t food for idle gossip.
If Colby and Tristan wanted to tell anyone, they could.
Otherwise, the only thing the pack needed to know was that Nico was no longer a threat.
Riley plunged into an account of the book he was ghost-writing for someone in town, old family stories from the silver boom, and that carried the burden of conversation for a while as everyone ate.
Colby glanced around the table every now and then, calibrating himself against the members of the pack.
The members of his pack. It still didn’t seem possible.
No one seemed to be taking much notice of him, which was how he liked it. No one except Christian, who caught Colby’s gaze at one point, and raised his lip, half sneer, half snarl.
Colby dropped his gaze back to his plate. Safer that way.
They’d almost finished dinner when Matt drew everyone’s attention.
“Just so you know, the suits are coming to visit us soon. I don’t know much more than that at the moment, but don’t let their politician-speak fool you into thinking they’re harmless or unintelligent.
It could be that whoever’s responsible for disposing of Cale’s pack will be among them, so stay sharp, and watch what you say when they’re here. ”
Christian stabbed at his beef like it had offended his mother. “You okay with this, Jesse?”
It was the first time Colby had heard that tight, protective edge in his voice. He was still learning the shape of this pack. Still figuring out where the joins were, and how he might fit between them.
Jesse shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. “Guess I gotta be, don’t I? Seein’ as how I’m the main attraction and all.”
As he looked at Jesse and saw the strain in him, Colby found himself wanting to say something. To help, in some way.
“You were amazing earlier,” he said. “With the henhouse, I mean. Stopping Mayhem from collapsing the entire thing.”
Jesse blinked. Then he grinned, sharp and quick. “Damn right I was.”
Laughter broke the tension, and a smile touched Colby’s lips. He’d said something. Contributed. And no one told him to shut up. That still felt like magic.
* * *
As the pack cleared out of the kitchen after dinner, leaving Tristan and Colby to do the dishes, Bryce lingered by the door.
“Colby,” he said.
Colby stiffened, a reflex he didn’t quite manage to hide. “Yeah?”
“You need boots.”
Tristan flew to his defense. “He’s got boots.”
“He’s got Dave’s boots,” Bryce said, before turning back to Colby. “Meet me tomorrow on my lunch break. We’ll get you kitted out.”
Colby didn’t understand what was going on. “Uh, okay,” he managed. But Bryce was already halfway down the hallway.
He turned back to Tristan, uncertain. “What does that mean?”
“It means boots,” Tristan said cheerfully, rinsing a plate. “But for the love of God, don’t let him choose them. He has the taste of a raccoon on meth.”
Colby snorted, the tension in his shoulders easing. But the disquiet didn’t fully go.
He hesitated. “Um, Tristan?”
“Yeah?”
“If I’m going to buy boots tomorrow—” He hesitated again, twisting the dish towel in his hands. “I don’t have any money.”
It came out in a rush. He knew Tristan wouldn’t make a big deal of it, but that didn’t prevent humiliation from burning under his skin.
What little he’d had when he first met Nico was long gone, and he hadn’t been given his own share of what the pack brought in.
He’d been dependent on Nico for everything, from the food he ate to the toothpaste he brushed with. And Nico had never let him forget it.
Tristan didn’t even blink at his confession. “You don’t need any. That’s what pack does.”
Colby nodded slowly. He appreciated that, he really did, but something about it sat heavy in his chest.
“D’you want me to mention it to Bryce?” Tristan asked, obviously picking up on Colby’s unease.
Colby shook his head, surprised by how fast the answer came. “No. I should do it.”
He needed to be able to speak for himself and make his own connections, rather than mediate everything through Tristan. He wanted to be a person again, not just someone’s shadow—not even Tristan’s.
TRISTAN
Colby didn’t speak once the bedroom door clicked shut behind them. He just turned, reached for Tristan, and pulled him close. He looked at Tristan for a moment, a smile in his eyes that Tristan loved to see, before their lips met in a kiss.
A kiss that swiftly turned needing, as Colby’s tongue slid into Tristan’s mouth, teasing yet sure. Just like his hands, as he worked them under Tristan’s shirt and explored his body until Tristan was shivering.
Tristan forced himself to draw back for an instant, just to check. “You good?”
Colby nodded, his eyes dark in a way that caused Tristan’s stomach to flip over. “I want to see you.” His voice was deeper than usual, and God, at this rate, Tristan was going to come before Colby even touched his cock.
Tristan let himself be undressed slowly. His shirt hit the floor. Then Colby touched the button of his jeans, looking a question at him.
“Yes,” Tristan breathed. “Whatever you want.”
Colby smiled, then kissed him again.
It wasn’t like before. They’d been together without hesitation, without fear before, but never like this—like Colby knew exactly what he wanted. Like he knew his own edges. He trailed his hand down Tristan’s chest as if he was memorizing it.
And then he dropped to his knees.
Tristan froze.
“Colby…”
“I want to,” Colby said, gaze steady. “Let me.”
There was no hesitation in him. No submission, either. He wasn’t offering himself. He was taking control.
Tristan nodded, too stunned for words. Colby worked open his fly with deft fingers, then his hand curved around Tristan’s cock.
“God,” Tristan gasped, and a guttural sound punched out of him as Colby slid his mouth down on him. Warm and wet and Colby. He loved Colby’s hand on him, but this was like nothing he could have imagined.
Thank God for Colby’s hands on his thighs, stopping his trembling legs from collapsing under him.
“Colby,” Tristan said between desperate pants, as Colby worked his mouth up and down on Tristan’s cock. Every now and then, he swirled his tongue in a way that made Tristan sure he was about to shake apart with pleasure.
Colby was beautiful like this—focused, quiet, in control. And Tristan started babbling, telling him how amazing he felt, how good he looked, how much he loved him. Shivers were running down his spine, and he’d never been on the edge this quickly.
Colby flicked his gaze up to meet Tristan’s eyes, continuing his steady, maddening pace, and Tristan lost it. He came, wrecked and wild, and Colby was just there, holding him steady through the shuddering joy.
When Tristan finally opened his eyes again, Colby eased up to his feet. Tristan hauled him in for a desperate open-mouthed kiss, a mix of gratitude and longing and love.
He finally forced himself to draw back. “You okay?” he asked hoarsely, though the hardness of Colby’s cock pressing insistently against him indicated he was very much alright.
Colby nodded. “Want you to touch me.”
He got Colby onto the bed, where he worked him open with slow, slick fingers and deep, soft kisses. He murmured between each kiss, asking, checking, praising.
Colby arched under his attentions, gasping, and he didn’t look away, his eyes dark and filled with love as he slowly came apart around Tristan’s fingers.
When he came, it was with Tristan’s name in his mouth, and not even a whisper of fear in his body.
They’d just curled up under the covers, tangled and warm, when a goat bleated in the darkness. Long, loud, and indignant. Possibly raccoons. Possibly betrayal.
Tristan groaned. “She knows.”
“Knows what?” Colby murmured sleepily.
“That you love me more than her.”
Colby’s only answer was deepened breathing as he fell asleep, his nose pressed against Tristan’s neck.
And Tristan lay there, grinning into the dark.