Hunting Colby

Chapter Six

I ground my teeth. Impossible male. Worse than my father and brother combined. “You’re like a kicked puppy, and I’m trying my best to not set you off. Every time I get close, you snap at me.”

He loomed, anger flushing his skin. “If memory serves me right, every time you’re close you try to take me captive.” This was the first time I’d ever heard Colby raise his voice.

My inner beast rose in response to his hostile energy; however, I couldn’t shift. Colby wouldn’t be gutted by my claws no matter how angry he tried to make me. I poked him in the chest. “I didn’t try. On both hunts I caught you.”

The air snapped with hostility. “Your Master knocked me out the first time.” The way he sneered the title expressed exactly how he felt about my pack working for the Nosferatu. “That didn’t count.”

“If I hadn’t let you go, I would have succeeded in taking you.” When I’d first met Colby, I had been on a stakeout for him. Only upon contact in the initial take-down did we realize what we were for one another. Well, I had realized it. Colby had needed a full-blown explanation. I’d let him escape instead of trapping him for my master. Unfortunately, my master had punched Colby on his flight out of the room and imprisoned him.

With a growl, Colby spun away and stormed to the fridge. “There’s only a shower stall. Fresh towels are under the sink. Leave your clothes outside the door, and I’ll wash them.”

I shook my head to clear it of burning rage. How did he turn it off so fast? “I’m leaving.”

He nailed me with a glare. “Stay.” Then he turned his back on me as he placed eggs and bacon on the counter.

Every cell in my alpha body cried out at the order. Part of me wanted to tear out of the apartment, yet the other part, the mated side, told me I was finally here without bloodshed. With a snarl, I stomped to the bathroom, pulling my tunnel-stained shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor by the doorway. My jeans and the rest of my underclothes followed onto the pile.

Tingles coasted over my spine. I glanced over my shoulder to find Colby’s gaze burning a path over my naked flesh. I covered my breasts. Being nude had never bothered me before, even when males of my pack had studied me with appreciation. The flash of carnal hunger in Colby’s stare hit me like an open-handed slap.

I crossed the short distance into the bathroom with quick steps on my tiptoes and kicked the door closed. My heart pounded so hard it bounced off my ribcage. What the hell was wrong with me? I grabbed the end of my braid and gave it a good, hard tug. Fuck. All I’d done was undress. Something I’d done a thousand times in front of many shifters, yet that sudden spark had frightened me.

I’d heard stories about how others met their mates. Fireworks and butterflies entwined with love and sex. A relationship defined by a loyal wolf’s heart. However, I’d never truly believed I would find mine. Not until I saw that look in Colby’s stare.

A tear rolled down my cheek and I swiped it away. Great, I was crying now. Next I’d be baking cookies and asking the neighborhood shifters over for tea.

Hormones sucked. My mother had tried to explain their affects on mated couples every time I’d called the last few months, but I wasn’t ready to listen. We’d never been that close, considering I preferred giving orders over receiving them. I should have listened. Maybe there was a cure.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on my image in the mirror. Taut muscles trembled on a slim frame, dark eyes reflected the light, and I had enough curves that I wouldn’t be mistaken for a male. Most of the time. I snorted and shook my head. What I had seen in Colby’s eyes must have been the play of anger mixed in with the hunger for food.

I was no beauty queen. Males had never swooned at my feet. I was a honed killer. They fell at my feet dead.

Jumping in the shower, I scrubbed the scents of subway off my skin and hair. When I reached for the conditioner, I couldn’t find any. My long, straight hair hung down my back in a tangle. I scrunched my eyes closed at the thought of brushing it.

For years, I’d considered cutting it all off. Each time I’d made up my mind to end my suffering, someone would appear to convince me to keep it long—mostly my little brother, who towered over me by at least a foot.

He always said that a female’s greatest gift to her mate was her hair. I never understood. Hell, my mate was in the other room and I still didn’t.

I dried off and slipped into a robe hanging from a hook. The brown terrycloth was worn and soft. Colby’s smell infused the material.

After a thorough search of the bathroom, all I could find was a comb. I glanced at the mirror and the mess hanging off my head. This could take all afternoon. Scissors would be easier.

Striding into the apartment, I sat at the table and took the comb to task. The scent of bacon thickened the air, and my stomach cramped in anticipation. It was never a good idea for a shifter to skip a meal.

Colby carried a full plate to the table and set it before me.

I took the fork he offered. “Thanks.” I then proceeded to shovel food into my system.

“You’re doing it all wrong.” He moved around behind me.

Coughing, I did my best to not choke to death on the piece of scrambled egg I’d just inhaled. “Eating?” I managed to say between fits.

“No, combing your hair.”

I managed to stop choking and glanced at him. “If you owned conditioner, I wouldn’t be such a mess. You don’t happen to have any, do you?”

He took a handful of my hair and rubbed the strands between his fingers. “Do I look like someone who would?”

“No.” I did my best to not stare at his standing-on-end hair. It didn’t even look like he’d washed it.

Starting at the ends, he worked the comb through the knots yet somehow avoided yanking on my scalp.

I ate my breakfast without tasting it and stared straight ahead, afraid if I said or did anything I’d spook him again. In the reflection of the window, I saw the small frown lines on his forehead as he concentrated.

He’d relocated the laptop onto the floor so I would have room to eat. No television or books that I could see. Not even a picture. His home was as empty as his heart.

“Your hair isn’t practical.” He moved to a different section.

I bit my tongue. “Fuck.” Fisting the fork, I stabbed a piece of bacon, pretending it was his thigh instead.

“And your language…”

I raised the fork. That was it. If I wanted criticism, I would have called my mother. I was done tiptoeing on eggshells around this male. “You’re an ass.” I gasped as my head was suddenly jerked back and the fork knocked from my hand.

Colby wrapped my hair around his wrist, keeping me pinned in the chair. “We’ve already covered that,” he whispered in my ear as he leaned closer to my neck to inhale deeply.

I’d seen my father do this to my mother. Not the pinning, but the smelling. Squirming in my chair, I tried to cross my leg and lean against my elbow. Not easy when someone held your hair in a vise-like grip.

“Your scent…”

“Could you be any more confusing?” I shot the question at him. Only yesterday he’d told me to leave him alone. Couldn’t he hear his instincts? They had to be screaming as loud as mine.

He snorted and released his hold. “I confuse you?”

I rose to face him. Unarmed. “Grooming is considered an intimate act within my pack. Isn’t it the same in yours?”

The frown line between his eyes grew deeper. “I wasn’t raised in a pack.”

My jaw dropped before I could consciously stop it. I cleared my throat and pulled my robe tighter around me. “Your parents were strays?”

“I don’t know.” His stare bore into mine, not wavering, almost daring me to flinch. “I was adopted. Humans raised me.”

“Oh.” I somehow kept a flat expression on my face while inside I cringed. How horrid for him. I couldn’t imagine his suffering.

He leaned against the bathroom door frame and crossed his arms. “Is that all you have to say?”

Nausea rolled the eggs and bacon in my stomach. I had a ton of things I wanted to express, but none of it was good. This, at least, explained Colby’s unnatural protective behavior of humans. “I’m sorry.” It seemed the safest answer.

He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It must have been lonely.”

“Not at first. They’re not that much different than us.” He finally broke eye contact, and I almost gasped in relief. “All my memories of my adoptive family are good ones.”

I nodded as if I understood, though I didn’t. How had a pup ended up without a pack? It just proved how strong-willed this male was that he’d survived such isolation.

“They loved me.” He spoke so quietly I had to lean forward to hear him. His words sounded strained and they struck me as wrong.

I blinked. “You’re speaking in the past tense.” My stomach dropped at the implications. “What happened?” Had they abandoned him once they found out his true nature?

He glanced up at me. “You’re quick to pick things up.”

“No kidding.” I hugged myself. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He scrubbed his hair. “Not even sure why I did.” He turned his back on me to enter the bathroom.

Without a second thought, I grabbed his arm and pulled him to face me again. “You don’t need to be alone.”

The pain in his green eyes vanished, replaced by a wall.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He’d been trying to open up, but his barriers fell in place quickly. “How old?” This was a new type of battle, something I didn’t practice often. A struggle of emotions instead of fists.

“Thirteen.” A tender age for a shifter. As puberty hit, we had to be taught the nuances of changing shape and finding the mental trigger that began the process.

I had a trigger, but I lacked the hormonal chemicals to physically change. Nothing but poor genetics in my case.

Colby glanced at my hand on his arm before taking it within his. Gently he tugged me toward him until he buried his nose into the nape of my neck. “You smell familiar, but I can’t place what it is.”

I jerked at the sudden heat of his body. “You shouldn’t tease me. It’s cruel.” Tingles traveled over my skin where the tip of his nose had brushed over it.

A deep chuckle rumbled in Colby’s chest. The sound contained an edge of pain that pulled at my soul. I couldn’t imagine not having a pack. The loneliness would have killed most shifters. “You have no idea how you affect me, Gwen.” He set his hands on my shoulders and ran them over my arms. “Having you here, wearing my robe…” This time when he leaned closer, I held my ground. His lips brushed my earlobes as he whispered, “I’m no good for you.”

It grew more difficult to take a breath. “Why?” I whispered back.

“I already told you. I can’t shift.”