Page 168 of Psycho Pack

"Whiskey," I breathe, not sure what else to say.

He grins, but it's softer than usual. Vulnerable in a way I've never seen from him before. "Colt," he reminds me. "My name's Colt, remember?"

"Colt," I echo, testing the name on my tongue.

It suits him.

Strong and a little wild, just like him.

"Don't know if I can get used to callin' you Hamsa, though," he drawls. "So maybe we should stick with our new names, huh?"

"I think I'd prefer that," I murmur. "Who I was before… that person feels dead now. It's strange, but I'm not Hamsa anymore. Not even in this place."

"Yeah. I feel like that, too," he admits before hesitating.

"What is it?" I ask.

He stares at me for a moment, working his jaw before looking out over the balcony. "Whoever you are now," he says slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing as the words stick in his throat. "I love ya."

Those last three words come out so gruffly, so muttered, it takes me a moment to realize what he said.

"You...loveme?" I manage to croak out.

"You heard me," he grumbles. "And I ain't sayin' it again."

I search his face for any sign of deception as he glances warily at me, any hint that this is just another one of his jokes. But all I see is raw honesty in those honey-brown eyes. Vulnerability I've never witnessed from him before.

He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze again. "Yeah, well, don't make a big deal out of it or nothin'."

But I can see the tension in his broad shoulders, the way his jaw clenches as he waits for my response.

He's afraid.

Just like I am.

"I..." The words stick in my throat.

After Adiir, I swore I'd never let myself be that vulnerable again. Not with another alpha. Never.

But isn't that exactly what I've been doing, without even realizing it? Letting my guard down bit by bit, not just with Ivy, but with all of them.

Withhim.

"Look, forget I said anything," he mutters. "I know you've got a lot of shit to deal with. I just wanted you to know in case we fuckin' die. I'm not?—"

I cut him off by grabbing the front of his robe and yanking him back to me. Our lips crash together, and for a moment, it's all teeth and desperation. Then he melts into me with a low groan, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair.

This kiss is different from the first. There's heat now, urgency. All the pent-up longing and frustration of months—years, if I'm being honest with myself—poured into a single point of contact.

I lose myself in the taste of him, the feeling of his solid warmth pressed against me. His stubble scrapes my chin, so different from the softness of Ivy or the memory of Adiir. But it grounds me, reminds me that this is real.

Thatheis real.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against mine, his hands still buried in my hair.

"Fuck," he pants. "That was..."

"Yeah," I agree, unable to keep the smile from my voice.

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