Scottland – Something Shifting
The morning after the celebration, Scottland woke up different.
Not visibly.
Not with any flash of light or dramatic change.
But something inside her had… tilted.
When she rolled over and buried her face into the pillow, she breathed in a faint scent—one that hadn't been there before.
Warm cedar.
Fresh rain.
And something that made her chest flutter and her stomach tighten.
Grant.
Her Alpha.
Her mate.
The pillow smelled like him. Not because he'd been in her room. But because she had begun to associate comfort, safety, and home with his scent.
And now?
She wanted it.
Not passively.
Not fearfully.
But in a way that felt like longing curled beneath her skin.
Grant – The Pull
Grant noticed it before she said a word.
At breakfast, she sat closer.
Not clingy. Not overt.
Just… present. Fully there. Eyes lingering a second longer. Voice softer. The occasional brush of her fingers against his wrist, like she was testing the waters of touch.
He said nothing.
But inside?
His wolf stirred.
Not in hunger.
Not in dominance.
But in recognition.
The bond—dormant and patient for so long—was finally stretching.
Reaching.
Calling.
She was approaching her heat.
And the scent of it—still faint, still weeks off—was starting to rise like morning mist.
He didn't let his expression change.
But he shifted subtly closer.
Because she didn't need protection from her biology.
She needed safety to feel it.
And not fear it.
Wren – Knowing Eyes
Later that day, Wren cornered him in the hallway.
"She's warming to you," she said, sipping tea.
Grant leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "She always has."
Wren raised a brow. "No. Before, she tolerated you. Trusted you. Now?"
She smiled slowly.
"She wants you."
Grant's jaw tensed.
"I know," he said quietly. "And it's the hardest thing I've ever done—not acting on it."
Wren studied him, unusually serious.
"She's about to come into her first unmedicated heat, Grant. And she'll want things she doesn't yet understand. Her body will call for you before her heart is ready."
Grant met her gaze.
"I know."
"And you?"
"I'll wait until her mind and soul say yes. Not just her scent."
Wren smiled.
Then handed him a jar of ice water.
"Good. You're going to need this more than she will."
Scottland – The Ache in Her Bones
That night, the ache started.
Not painful.
Not sharp.
Just a deep, pulling awareness in her lower belly. A need she couldn't name.
She stood in the moonlit hallway, unsure why she couldn't sleep.
Then—softly, without thought—she walked to Grant's door.
It was slightly ajar.
She hovered there for a breath.
Then knocked once.
"Scottland?" his voice came, low and alert.
"I… I don't know what I'm doing here."
But he was already at the door, stepping aside.
"You don't have to explain."
She stepped in.
The room smelled like him—earth and strength and the comfort of dusk.
He guided her to the sofa, pulled a blanket around her shoulders, and sat across from her on the floor.
She tucked her knees under her chin.
"I feel like there's fire in my bones."
He nodded slowly. "It's your instincts. They're waking up. It's natural."
Her eyes were wide. "Is it okay that it's you I want near?"
He looked up at her, blue eyes calm, honest.
"It's more than okay. But I'll never take unless you ask me to."
She leaned her head back.
"I don't want you to leave."
"I won't."
And he didn't.
The Bond – Almost Touching
For days, it continued like that.
Little shifts.
Soft glances.
Increased touch.
Scottland brushed past him more often, her fingers grazing his hand, her shoulder resting against his arm when they sat close.
She started to laugh more.
To hum as she walked.
To let herself be held in small, quiet moments—like when he reached for her hand at the garden gate, or when she tucked herself into his side during pack meetings.
The bond between them was strengthening, but it was still waiting.
Respectful.
Patient.
Sacred.
Scottland – A Question of Want
One evening, she sat curled on the sofa with Grant, feet tucked beneath her and one of his old hoodies draped around her shoulders.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"If we bonded… if I let you bite me—what would happen?"
Grant exhaled slowly.
"The bite is the final piece of a mating bond. It connects us. Makes it permanent. Emotional. Physical. Instinctual."
"Would I still be me?"
He looked at her, something tender in his expression.
"You'd be more you. Nothing about it changes your heart or your will. It just… amplifies what's already there."
She hesitated.
"Would it hurt?"
"Only for a moment. The pain disappears almost instantly. The pleasure doesn't."
Her breath caught.
"Oh."
He smiled gently. "But we don't have to talk about that now."
"No," she said quickly. "I want to understand. I want to know what I'm choosing."
He nodded.
And let her sit quietly with the knowledge.
The Scent of Her Heat
Two nights later, it began.
Not a rush.
Not overwhelming.
Just a subtle, powerful shift in the air.
Grant smelled it first—her heat blooming softly around her like spring.
He froze where he stood in the hallway as she stepped out of her room, skin flushed, eyes wide.
"I feel… strange," she whispered.
Grant's voice was a near-growl, tightly controlled.
"It's starting."
Scottland nodded slowly. "I thought I'd be afraid."
"Are you?"
She stepped toward him, breath shaky.
"No. Just… unsure."
He nodded.
"I'll help you through it. You won't be alone."
She looked up at him.
And whispered, "Will you stay with me?"
In the Quiet
He brought her to his room.
Lit a few candles.
Closed the curtains.
Made a nest of soft blankets and pillows on the bed, layered with his scent.
She curled up in the middle of it, and he lay beside her—fully clothed, no contact unless she asked.
For hours, she rested against him. Breathing him in. Letting her body calm beneath his nearness.
When the pulsing ache became too much, she whispered, "Touch my hair?"
He did.
Slowly. Carefully. Stroking from root to tip.
And when she finally fell asleep, skin warm and bond humming beneath the surface—
He stayed.
Awake.
Watching over her.
Waiting.
Wanting.
But never pushing.