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Of the two of them, Colton was more in tune with his wolf than Maddox. He always thought it had something to do with being the second son of an Alpha leader. Accepting that he would have to fight two tough challenges to lead the pack and knowing that he would never challenge his father or his brother, his role was secure. He didn’t have to bother with all of the politics so it didn’t matter if he wore his fur on his sleeve. Give him his wood and his tools and his small patch of territory in his Bumptown and he was content.
Of course, that was all before Evangeline and the accident. Maddox never realized how much Colt’s life turn
ed upside down the night their car rolled over. With one stupid, reckless comment to the wrong person—because, even if he never admitted it out loud, he blamed himself for it every day—everything changed.
Evangeline was gone, Maddox was locked up, and Colt was suddenly his father’s second, next in line to be Alpha of the pack.
To make matters worse, Maddox refused to let anyone else see him in the Cage except Colt. So Colt was reminded every damn time he drove out past Grayson that he had a paw in doing this to his brother. He would’ve given up everything, done anything to take back his careless words and fix this. When he stumbled on Evangeline, he thought he had his chance to make things right.
He was still trying.
It had been days since the last time he allowed himself to shift. Too much was going on and the more Maddox lost his control, the more Colt struggled to maintain his. It was bad enough he could barely fight his impulses while he was walking around like a man. If he even dared to shift away from his territory… well, maybe they hadn’t found anyone to fill Maddox’s cell yet.
Because that’s exactly where Colt would end up if he couldn’t get a hold of himself.
His wolf wanted him to head into the city. Colt was still strong enough to refuse to leave the Bumptown, no matter how much he wanted to. He eventually settled on a compromise that satisfied both him and his beast: a few hours in his fur and maybe he’d be too tired to go for a drive.
Colt needed to shift. The howling was driving him crazy. He finally gave in and let his wolf out in the sanctuary of the woods behind his house. He’d been holding a tighter leash than usual these days; if his wolf had its way, Colt wouldn’t be available to help Maddox at all and, no matter what, the man part of him insisted that family came first. Pack before anything else. And if his wolf wanted to argue semantics about words like ‘family’ and ‘pack’, then it was going to be kept caged up tight for as long as it took for Colt to remember himself.
He ran for hours. Long after the Nightwalkers retreated to their coffins, the Dayborn vampires changing shifts as they went out on the hunt, Colton ran through the acres surrounding the Bumptown. It was a perimeter patrol as much as a chance for him to roam. Colt never went far, though, even if his wolf keened a lonely song as it flew through the trees.
There was too much anxious energy. Colt didn’t cut short his run because he was tired. If he let his wolf off its leash, no doubt the beast could run all the way to Grayson without even a hitch in its stride.
He cut his run short because, when he sped past the border of his immediate territory, he picked up a scent.
Slowing down, Colt put his snout to the ground and snuffed. Recognizing it at once, he bolted for his house. He switched shapes once he was on his own land, ducking into his shed to throw on a pair of jeans and a tee. There was a cloying, sweet smell mingled with his brother’s scent that warned Colt that he’d want to be fully dressed for this conversation.
He went inside, following the scent into his living room.
Maddox was sitting in Colt’s favorite armchair—in the dark. And while shifters had amazing night vision, no one would choose to sit in the dark without a good reason.
The reek of grain alcohol was a pretty big clue that Maddox thought he had one.
Colt recognized it instantly. Whiskey. Hell.
Well, he figured, it could’ve always been worse. At least his brother hadn’t started with the sappy power ballads yet.
Just like when he was in the Cage, Maddox had to have picked up on Colt entering the room. But he kept his head bowed, his eyes on the floor. His legs were spread, bracing his big body as he perched on the edge of the armchair.
Colt zeroed in on the pile between Maddox’s boots. He rolled his eyes.
Wonderful. Forget a good reason. For this reaction? It had to have been a catastrophe.
A shifter’s metabolism made it difficult for them to get drunk. To feel a buzz, Maddox would have to down an entire bottle straight; to get drunk, he would need another two bottles, easy. Colt’s quick glance revealed that Maddox was surrounded by no less than three bottles at his feet, with another half-empty one hanging from his limp fingers.
Considering the shit Colt was dealing with on his own, walking into this mess was the last thing he wanted. His run had just about worn his wolf out, taking the edge off of him, but now it was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to break out again.
At least he had something else to focus on. Taking care of a drunk Maddox—while not at the top of his list of fun activities—would distract him for a while. He just hoped he had gotten to Maddox in time.
Because, if his brother managed to get enough drink in him, the alcohol made Maddox melancholy and whiny. It got so bad when he was first bonding with Evangeline that Colt and Dodge went through the house and cleaned it out of any liquor. Maddox always managed to sneak in his own. Colt could never understand it, since Maddox was never a big drinker, but there was something about his feelings for his mate that did that to him.
Maddox told him once that, when he thought of Evangeline, it was like a balloon filling his chest. She took up every bit of space inside of him, lodged forever in his heart, and when she rejected him, the balloon popped. It was agony. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest reaction, but the alcohol numbed his pain.
Colt always thought his brother was being a pussy. A mate just was. The perfect half, the other side of their soul… there was no need for messy feelings to get involved. You find your mate, you claim your mate—it was supposed to be easy.
Colt learned the hard way that he was fucking wrong.
And that was the only reason why Colt didn’t walk over to Maddox and snatch the whiskey bottle from his lax grip like he wanted to. Instead, he maneuvered his way past Maddox and flipped the switch on the other side of the room.
