Scottland – A New Morning
The bed was too soft.
Scottland blinked up at the ceiling, covers tucked around her like a cloud. Pale light filtered through gauzy curtains, and for one long, slow breath, she didn't remember where she was.
Then she smelled him.
Pine. Rain. Warmth.
Grant.
She sat up quickly, heart racing, but no one was in the room. Just her. A single, warm fire crackled in a stone hearth. The bedroom was small but beautiful, with polished wood floors, a soft rug, and a chair in the corner draped with a folded blanket.
Everything was… calm.
Safe.
Her wolf stretched lazily inside her chest, uncurling for the first time in years. She padded across the room barefoot, fingertips brushing over the unfamiliar furniture, the smooth windowsill, the silk curtains.
No locked doors.
No iron bars.
No shouted commands.
Just… peace.
Her hands trembled.
How long would it last?
Grant – The Quiet Before
Grant stood on the back porch of the Gray Pack guest house, a mug of coffee in his hand, watching the sunrise turn the fields gold. His second-in-command, Marcus, leaned against the railing beside him.
"She slept through the night," Grant said. "Didn't even stir when I checked on her."
Marcus nodded. "You think she'll stay?"
"She crossed the border on her own." Grant glanced down into the mug. "I think she wants to believe this is real."
"She doesn't know what that means yet," Marcus replied.
Grant sighed. "No. But I'll teach her."
"And if she rejects the bond?"
Grant looked up toward the hills. "Then she stays as long as she wants. As long as she needs."
"She's not just any omega, Grant. You know Roger's going to try something."
"I know," he said quietly. "But she's not his anymore."
Scottland – The Alpha's House
The house was bigger than it looked.
Scottland wandered quietly, her bare feet silent on the cool floors. She passed an open study lined with books, a sunlit sitting room, and a tidy kitchen that smelled like herbs and cinnamon.
Then she heard footsteps.
Grant appeared at the far end of the hallway, dressed in a gray shirt and soft jeans, his sleeves pushed up, hair damp from the shower. He stopped when he saw her.
She froze.
But he smiled, slow and gentle.
"Good morning."
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Good morning."
"You hungry?"
A pause. Then she nodded.
"Come sit. I'll make you tea."
She followed him into the kitchen and perched on the edge of a stool, watching him move with easy confidence. He didn't command. Didn't rush. He made tea like it mattered.
When he placed a steaming mug in front of her, her fingers curled around it instinctively.
"Do you want something to eat?"
She hesitated. Then, "Toast?"
He smiled. "Toast it is."
Grant – Letting Her Lead
She sat across from him at the small table, her shoulders slightly hunched, like she was waiting for something to go wrong.
But she ate slowly, one bite at a time, like each mouthful was something she wasn't used to.
Maybe it wasn't.
"You don't have to answer this," Grant said gently, "but… do you remember the last time someone made you breakfast?"
Scottland's hand paused on her mug. Her voice came out small. "My mother. When I was eight."
He nodded once, slowly. "That's a long time to go without being taken care of."
Her throat bobbed.
He didn't press.
Instead, he reached across the table, offering his hand palm-up on the wood. No expectation. No pressure.
She looked at it.
Then, slowly, with trembling fingers, she placed her hand in his.
Warm.
Alive.
Real.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whispered.
"You don't have to do anything," Grant said. "Just be."
She blinked. "Is that allowed?"
He smiled. "Here, it is."
Scottland – The Pack
Later that day, she followed him into the heart of the pack.
The main house stood at the center of a sprawling community, surrounded by homes, gardens, and open spaces. Wolves padded between trees. Children chased each other in the grass. Omegas walked freely—talking, laughing, unafraid.
Scottland clung to Grant's side at first, wary, eyes darting.
But no one sneered.
No one leered.
No one grabbed her.
A young omega with curly black hair smiled warmly as they passed. "Hi," she said kindly. "You must be the new girl."
Scottland flushed, unsure what to say.
Grant introduced them. "This is Wren. She's mated to my cousin."
Wren grinned. "And you're Scottland. You're safe here, you know."
Scottland blinked.
Then nodded.
Later, when Grant left her with Wren and two other omegas in a sun-drenched garden, she wanted to bolt. But Wren just patted the seat beside her and said, "Sit. You look like you haven't had a single day off in your whole life."
And somehow… she sat.
Grant – The Space to Bloom
He watched from a distance.
She didn't know he was there, standing beneath the tall oak, arms crossed, just watching her exist.
She sat in the grass with the other omegas, shoulders still tight but slowly relaxing. Someone handed her a slice of fruit, and she held it like it might vanish. When she finally tasted it, her eyes widened just a little.
She's waking up, Grant thought.
Bit by bit.
Not because he forced it.
But because she was safe enough to let it happen.
He'd known the moment he saw her that she was his. But he also knew claiming her wasn't about dominance or instinct.
It was about patience.
Love.
Time.
He could wait.
Scottland – A Real Room
That night, he showed her a real room.
"Yours," Grant said, opening the door at the end of a quiet hall. "If you want it."
The space was warm, with soft lighting, a bed by the window, a small bookshelf, and a dresser with a mirror. A delicate rug lay at the foot of the bed, woven with flowers.
Scottland stepped inside slowly, breath catching.
"I had the room prepared a few weeks ago," he said softly. "Didn't know why at the time. Just… felt right."
She turned to him, eyes wide.
"You can lock it from the inside," he added. "No one comes in without permission."
Her shoulders trembled.
He waited by the door.
After a moment, she walked forward and placed her hand on the edge of the bed.
And whispered, "It's beautiful."
Grant nodded once. "So are you."
She didn't look up.
But she smiled.
Final Scene – The Dream
That night, Scottland dreamed of moonlight.
She stood in a field of silver flowers, wind brushing through her hair, the stars wide and clear above her.
Across from her stood a great brown wolf with eyes like the ocean. He didn't move.
But her wolf stepped forward.
And when she touched noses with the other wolf, the dream shimmered around her—and she felt it.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Belonging.
When she woke in her new room, morning light filtering through the curtains, she didn't cry.
She breathed.
Free.
And for the first time, she whispered to the air, "I think I'm ready."