Page 3 of Alpha's Claim

COLT

The following day as Colt tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle, the bulk of his brothers’ teasing from the other day still clung to him, needling beneath his skin like a splinter he couldn’t quite get pulled out. He hated the reminder that he hadn’t found a mate. Not because of the pressure—hell, being the alpha of a pack meant the pressure was as relentless as the sun—but because, deep down, he wanted it more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

He could pretend all he liked, throw himself into the never-ending cycle of ranch life, but the loneliness was real. As much as he loved the ranch, the land, his brothers, and his pack, there were nights when the silence was too loud, the bed too cold, and the ache in his chest too sharp. Colt wanted someone to hold—someone to share his life with, not just as a partner but as his equal, his mate. Someone who could help take some of the weight from his shoulders and carry it with him. Someone who understood the man and the wolf inside him.

He was tired of watching others pair off and build lives together. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them, he was; he just wanted a bit of that happiness for himself. There was an ache deep in his chest every time he saw one of his men gaze attheir mate with a look that said they were whole. He wanted that wholeness, too. But none of the she-wolves in the pack stirred that need in him. He’d given it time—years, in fact—but if his mate was out there, she wasn’t among the Copper Canyon pack.

He gave the saddle strap a final tug, teeth clenched as he adjusted the bridle on his horse. Landon gave him a sideways glance, that damned amused glint still dancing in his eyes.

"Don’t get yourself worked up, Colt," he said, clearly sensing his brother’s frustration simmering just under the surface. "I was just messing with you yesterday. I can come with you if you like."

“Not necessary,” Colt grunted, running a hand through his unruly dark hair before swinging up onto his horse, “but I appreciate it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m going to go check that stretch of fence we put in.” He turned his horse away, but then stopped. “I thought about what you and Bryce said, I thought I might talk to some of the elder she-wolves tonight.”

“Way to go,” Landon said with a wicked grin.

“Don’t push it bro,” Colt said low as he turned away, gave his horse his head and galloped away.

After riding fence most of the day—ostensibly checking the new stretch of wire, but knowing it was fine, Colt returned to the barn and managed to hand off his horse to one of the stable hands.

“Make sure he gets a good rub down and maybe a little extra feed.”

“You spoil him. No wonder he won’t let anyone else ride him.”

“It’s good to be alpha,” Colt chuckled as he walked toward the house.

Colt stopped and glanced at the battered Rolex on his wrist. Not quite five p.m. The pack wouldn’t start gathering for dinner until six. The sun was still hanging in the sky, casting its warmlight across the ranch. For once, his workday was done early. His pack, the cattle, and horses were accounted for, and the bookwork could wait. A rare moment of free time stretched before him, and his wolf stirred eagerly, pressing against the edges of his mind.

A run. That’s what he needed—to lose himself in the wild, even if only for a while.

Colt turned and made his way to the communal changing room at the rear of the barn, pushing the door open with a creak. The room smelled of old wood and leather, a familiar mix of sweat, saddle soap, and earth. The air inside was cool from the air conditioning they kept running to ward off the uncompromising Texas sun, though the heat of the day was waiting just beyond the walls.

He toed off his boots and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it onto a nearby bench. His jeans and boxers followed, leaving him standing naked. Colt felt a low hum of anticipation from his wolf. Shifting always came with a sense of release, like stretching a limb you hadn’t realized was cramped.

In moments like this, when the yoke of responsibility seemed too much, the pull of his wolf felt like freedom beckoning.

Colt folded his clothes and placed them in one of the lockers, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. The transformation began with a tingling sensation that spread through his skin and bones—a hum of energy crackling through him.

Then it came: thunder and lightning, swirling in a kaleidoscope of shifting colors, a mist wrapping around him like a storm given shape. He could feel himself caught in the current of it, the sensations consuming him as his human form melted away. In seconds, the man was gone, and in his place stood a massive, midnight-black wolf.

Colt shook out his thick coat, feeling the cool air ripple through his fur. His wolf's paws pressed against the woodenfloor, claws clicking lightly as he padded to the door. With a flick of his head, he nudged it open and slipped outside, into the late afternoon sun.

The world felt sharper in this form. The scent of sagebrush and wildflowers drifted on the breeze, along with the tang of cattle and the musk of the horses in their pens. His ears twitched, catching the rustle of prairie grass and the distant flutter of a hawk’s wings overhead.

Colt bounded across the open yard, the soft thud of his paws muffled by the dusty ground. He felt light—freer than he had in days. His wolf reveled in the chance to move, to run without boundaries or burdens.

With a powerful push of his hind legs, he sprang over a low fence and took off across the open prairie, a dark blur against the golden grass. The land stretched out endlessly before him, every inch of it familiar—his territory, his home.

His heart pounded in time with his steps as he ran, muscles stretching and contracting with ease. The breeze tugged at his fur, carrying with it the scents of the wild—the promise of freedom. For a time, the mantle of leadership, the ache of loneliness, and the relentless grind of responsibility faded, leaving only the joy of movement and the fierce rhythm of his own pulse.

He ran harder, faster, as if trying to outrun his thoughts.

Colt’s paws thudded against the ground as he neared the ranch house and slowed to a trot. His wolf inhaled deeply, savoring the last moments of freedom before the responsibilities of being alpha settled on his shoulders again. The twilight sky was bruising to a deep purple, thick clouds swirling ominously overhead. A storm was moving in fast. Lightning flickered in the distance, casting jagged streaks across the darkening horizon.

He nosed his way into the changing room, shifting back into his human form as he stopped at the locker. The familiarswirling mist and crackling energy enveloped him once more. It felt like the world pulled itself inside out, twisting bone and sinew until he was himself again. The cool temperature made goosebumps pebble along his arms as he pulled on his jeans and buttoned his fly before grabbing the rest of his gear and heading up the stairs to his set of rooms at the end of the hall.

As he’d told the stable hand, being alpha had its perks. Opening the door, he stepped inside, taking a moment to appreciate the rustic luxury that surrounded him. His brothers and Etta each had a private room with an ensuite bath. The people who worked under Etta’s supervision all had private rooms with shared baths. Bonded couples had small, private cottages, and single wolves and she-wolves shared dormitories with two in a room and a single bath shared by four.

His chambers blended rustic charm with modern comfort. The room was spacious and airy, featuring vaulted ceilings with exposed wooden beams and wide-plank hardwood floors underfoot. A king-sized bed with an ornate, antique headboard was centered against one wall facing the back window. The bed was draped in soft linens and plush pillows, with cozy throws in earthy tones.

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