Page 8 of Alpha's Claim

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended, his wolf stirring beneath the surface. Even bruised and battered, she was beautiful, with fiery curls framing her delicate features. Colt’s fingers twitched with the urge to brush a strand of hair from her face, but he held himself back.

As he watched her sleep, a fierce protectiveness ballooned within him. Colt knew, without a doubt, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. No one would take her from him.

He turned away from the bed, his expression grim. He needed answers, but he could wait until she woke. Until then, he would watch, wait, and protect—because if anyone tried to hurt Briar again, they’d have to go through him first.

Colt’s gaze drifted over Briar’s sleeping form, and the sight of her bruised and battered body stirred a rage so fierce it stole his breath away. His hands curled into fists, but he held back, forcing himself to stay in control. Whoever had hurt her would pay. His wolf growled in agreement, simmering just beneath the surface, eager for a fight.

But the rage wasn’t just about what had been done to her. It was more than that. The moment he’d gotten close enough to her, the truth had hit him with the force of a thunderclap—this woman, Briar, was his fated mate.

There was no mistaking it. The bond settled over him like a second skin, the feeling foreign and familiar at the same time. It wasn’t just her scent—though that alone had pulled him in like a moth to a flame. It was a deep connection he could feel winnowing through every part of his being. He’d been waiting for her all his life. She was the reason no other she-wolf, or human female for that matter, had ever called to him.

That truth brought with it a thousand unanswered questions. What had happened to her? Who had marked her with bruises and fear? Why had she shown up on his doorstep in the middle of a Texas derecho, half-dead and terrified? And perhaps the most troubling question of all: What was she hiding?

Colt shook his head, forcing himself to focus. The questions could wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure she recovered. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew she was out of danger.

He bent down beside the bed, brushing a tangled curl away from her pale face with a feather-light touch. She stirred a mixture of protectiveness and desire deep within him. His wolf growled softly. She wasn’t ready for that—hell, neither was he.

“Sleep, Briar,” he whispered, though she couldn’t hear him. “You’re safe now.”

Colt straightened and turned toward the door, calling for Etta, who had worked for his family longer than he could remember. Moments later, Etta bustled into the room, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, her sharp eyes flickering between Colt and the sleeping woman.

“She’ll need proper care,” Colt said quietly. “You know what to do?”

Etta gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. “Of course, I know what to do. I’ve been taking care of you boys since you were pups, haven’t I?” She crossed the room and smoothed the blankets around Briar with a gentle touch.“Poor thing’s been through the wringer. You did right taking her in, Colt.” She stood and looked at him, arching her eyebrow knowingly. “But this one’s not just any stray, is she?”

Colt’s jaw tightened. Etta was too damn perceptive for her own good. “No,” he admitted, the word coming out gruff. “She’s not.”

Etta gave him a knowing smile but didn’t press him further. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” she said. “You go on and take care of what you need to. I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

Colt gave a short nod, grateful for Etta’s steady presence. If anyone could help Briar heal, it was Etta. Satisfied that Briar was in good hands, Colt left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to the weather outside as it continued to rage, thunder rumbling low in the distance, as if nature itself was restless with unanswered questions.

Colt ran a hand down his face, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of Briar. The bond between them hummed just beneath the surface, pulling at him like a constant undercurrent. But this wasn’t the time to give in to those instincts. The pack came first, and until he knew more about Briar’s past—and the danger that might follow her—he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

With one last glance at her door, Colt headed toward the barn. There was work to be done—horses to feed, ranch hands to direct, paperwork to be completed—and the routine work would help him clear his head, at least for a little while.

As his boots thudded against the packed earth, the horses nickered softly in their stalls as he entered, sensing his presence. He grabbed a couple of feed buckets, falling in alongside the hands who normally performed the job, the familiar task grounding him in the moment.

As the day wore on, the air outside seemed to cool and calm itself. It was heavy with the scent of rain, the clouds swirling overhead like restless spirits. Lightning flickered along the horizon, illuminating the wide expanse of Copper Canyon Ranch. But even as he worked, his mind refused to quiet. He could feel his wolf pacing within him, unsettled, eager to act.

“Soon,” he murmured to himself as he poured grain into the feed troughs.

The wind picked up, rattling the barn doors, but inside, everything was calm—at least for now. Colt knew that whatever had brought Briar to him wasn’t over; it was just beginning.

He set the last bucket down and leaned against the stall door, the sound of the horses’ soft munching filling the barn. His wolf rumbled, restless and waiting. Colt let out a long breath, knowing deep down that whatever was coming would change everything.

Chapter

Five

BRIAR

Briar woke with a start, her heart racing as if she’d been yanked from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. Disorientation settled over her, making it hard to tell where the dream ended and reality began. For a long moment, she lay still, staring up at a ceiling she didn’t recognize as her mind tried to piece together what had happened and where she was.

Everything felt strange, yet oddly peaceful. Something had changed, though she couldn’t say exactly what. It was like the air around her had shifted somehow, leaving her lighter, more grounded—yet the fear still lurked beneath the surface, ready to pounce if she let it.

Her limbs felt heavy, as if she hadn’t moved in days. But beneath the stiffness, there wasn’t much pain. She wasn’t sore, not the way she expected to be after running for her life. Slowly, Briar lifted her hands and examined her arms. Pale bruises still marked her skin, faint remnants of whatever nightmare had chased her into the storm—a nightmare that seemed just out of reach. She touched one on her forearm, a soft circle of discoloration, and flinched, not because it hurt, but because of what it seemed to represent.

Briar threw the blanket off her legs, her breathing shallow. She needed to see the damage, to make sure she was still whole. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror across the room.

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