I almost swallow my tongue in surprise when I see that he’s shirtless and only wearing a pair of low-slung charcoal sweatpants. His starkly defined muscles seem to go on forever. Unlike Hal, Colt doesn’t have any ink on his chest. Instead, both of his arms are full sleeves that stop after his shoulders.
His deep growl is enough to make me tear my gaze away from his six-pack.
“What the fuck happened? Why is she bruised?” Colt demands.
My eyebrows jump up in surprise as Colt stalks over to me. I rush to answer before Hal can. “I fell.”
I hide my wince at my lame excuse. While I haven’t had a chance to look in the mirror, I can guess where I’m bruised, and a fall wouldn’t cause that.
But I don’t want to tell him it was Azrael. I don’t want to get in between the five of them or cause any problems in their friendship. Plus, from the horrified look that was on his face, I’m betting Azrael is already beating himself up enough and doesn’t need his friends piling on.
Thunderclouds roll across Colt’s icy eyes, and his features darken. He steps up to me until we’re toe to toe.
My body unconsciously sways closer to his bare chest. I try to move back when I realize it, but his hand whips out to wrap around the back of my neck. He hauls me against him until I can feel his hard body pressed up against every inch of mine.
Colt leans in until his lips are even with my ear. “Falling doesn’t leave fingerprint-shaped bruises around your throat,” he rasps. “If you’re going to lie to me, you damn well better make sure you can do it flawlessly, sweetheart.”
My eyes close as I try to think up some other lie to cover for Azrael.
I’m still hunting for something to say when Colt gives my neck a warning squeeze that makes me arch into him and let out a small gasp. Heat rushes to my core, but I do my best to ignore the extremely inappropriate sensations.
A rough chuckle sounds in my ear that does nothing to douse my arousal. “You like that, do you, sweetheart? That’s good to know.” He pulls back and stares me down again, his expression now devoid of any humor. “Who gave you those bruises?”
I stubbornly press my lips together, unwilling to rat out Azrael. Unfortunately, Hal isn’t on the same page. “It was Az.”
A deep growl rattles in Colt’s chest, vibrating through me. He looks like he’s seconds away from going to find Azrael and beating him to a pulp, which is so not what I want.
“Don’t be mad at him,” I rush out. “It’s not his fault. I tackled him, which took him by surprise. I don’t think it was even me he was seeing. He stopped as soon as he realized it was me.”
Colt’s brows raise almost to his hairline. “You’re defending him?”
“Yes. Azrael didn’t mean to do what he did. He doesn’t need you dogpiling on him for a mistake he’s already aware of.” What he could use is a lesson on how to talk to people because he sucks at it, quite frankly.
With how pissed off Colt already is, though, I’m not going to bring up any of the comments that started this whole thing.
Colt considers me for a long moment, his fingers tracing small circles on my neck as he does so. “Are you always this understanding and forgiving?”
A wry smile tilts my lips. “I wish I could say no, but, yeah, pretty much.” I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and see the good in them. The world is a shitty enough place without assuming the worst of everyone else.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Has it ever bitten you in the ass?”
I snort. “Many times. But I’d rather get hurt by being too forgiving than hurt others by not being forgiving enough.”
I’ve caused enough hurt for an entire lifetime. I can’t go back and fix anything for Wren, but I can do my best to be a good person going forward. Not that it will ever be enough to make up for what I did, but I still keep trying anyway.
Colt huffs a laugh. “Your sugary scent makes sense with how damn sweet you are.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, trying hard to keep the vulnerability out of my voice. I’m not sure I succeed, though.
I want to be what Colt wants, for some unknown reason. My heart twinges uncomfortably at the thought of disappointing him.
He huffs a laugh and presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “No, sweetheart, it’s not a bad thing. Compassion, empathy, and forgiveness are all selfless traits. Unfortunately, the sweeter you are, the more the world likes to hurt you, it seems.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble.
Colt surprises me when he doesn’t press me to tell him who hurt me. He seems like the pushy type. Instead, sadness rolls across his blue eyes as he silently contemplates me for a moment.
He then leans in until he’s nose to nose with me again. “When I earn your trust and you tell me who hurt you, I will make sure anyone who ever harmed you meets a violent, bloody, and painful end.”
