Scottland – The Ache Begins
The ache started slow.
A warmth in her belly, a heaviness behind her ribs. She tried to ignore it, curled up beneath her blanket, watching sunlight slant through the curtains. But her body didn't listen.
Her wolf stirred—restless, needy.
Not in fear.
But in longing.
She curled her fingers against the sheets and let out a shaky breath. Her scent was changing. She could smell it—sweeter, thicker, more alive than before.
Heat.
Her first real heat. Not the forced suppressants, not the injections Roger's pack gave to keep her "manageable." This was hers. Natural. Raw. Intimate.
And terrifying.
She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.
Would Grant know?
Would he smell it?
Did she want him to?
Her cheeks flushed hot.
She didn't know what she wanted.
Only that she didn't want to go through it alone.
Grant – The First Scent
He caught it just after sunrise.
Soft, delicate, like honey and warm blossoms—Scottland's scent wafted down the hallway and hit him like a wave. His wolf went still. Then surged.
She was going into heat.
He braced his hands on the counter, breathing through it slowly. Not because he didn't want her.
But because she mattered more than his instincts.
She was so young. Fragile. Healing.
He wouldn't touch her unless she asked. Unless she was ready.
Unless she knew it wouldn't just be about mating—but about claiming. About forever.
His mate bond thrummed like a heartbeat in the back of his neck.
But Grant stood still.
And waited.
Scottland – The Knock
There was a soft knock at her door.
Scottland flinched under the covers.
"Scottland," Grant's voice came, deep and warm. "It's me. I can leave you be, or bring tea, or just sit outside the door."
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
She tried again.
"C-come in."
The door creaked open slowly. Grant stepped inside, eyes sweeping over the room before settling gently on her.
He didn't come too close.
Just crouched beside the bed, careful and steady.
Her wolf whined softly inside her.
"I… I think it's starting," she whispered.
"I know."
"Am I supposed to…? What if I can't control it? What if I—?"
"You won't do anything wrong." His voice was soft steel. "Your heat is natural. It's not something to be ashamed of."
She looked at him, eyes glassy. "I don't want to be a monster."
Grant's hand hovered just above hers. "You're not. You're a woman. A wolf. My mate."
Her breath caught.
He smiled, gently. "But that doesn't mean I'll touch you unless you ask me to."
The tension in her chest broke.
A tear slid down her cheek.
And this time, she didn't flinch when he reached up to wipe it away.
Grant – Holding Steady
He brought her fruit, cold cloths, more tea. He made a nest of blankets on the floor outside her door and stayed there all night, only speaking if she called his name.
He could feel her heat rising through the bond—crackling through the air, seeping into his blood.
His body ached for her.
But he never let it show.
He sat quietly, hands on his knees, wolf under control. Guarding her door like a sentinel.
There would be a time for claiming.
A time for the bite.
But she would decide that.
Not biology.
Not instinct.
And not him.
Scottland – The Pull
By the third night, the ache was unbearable.
Her body felt too hot, her skin too tight. Her wolf howled inside her chest, clawing at the edges of her ribs. She tried to bury herself in pillows, bite her own wrist, curl up small and pretend she didn't need.
But she did.
Gods, she did.
And all she could think about was him.
His voice. His hands. His scent.
The bond between them pulled taut like a string between stars.
Finally, shaking, she slipped off the bed and crept to the door. She opened it.
Grant was still there, sitting in the hallway, eyes closed.
He looked up immediately.
Her lips trembled.
"I… I can't sleep."
He rose in one smooth motion. "Do you want me to come in?"
She nodded.
So he did.
The Nest
He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her with those blue, endless eyes.
Scottland crawled into his lap like she was drawn there by a tide, curling against his chest, burying her nose in his shirt.
He didn't move.
Didn't rush.
Just wrapped his arms around her and held her.
Warm.
Solid.
Safe.
"You don't have to mark me," she whispered into his collar. "But I… I don't want to go through this alone."
"You won't," he said. "Not now. Not ever."
She leaned into him fully, letting his scent surround her. His warmth grounded her, her wolf slowly quieting in his arms.
They stayed that way for a long time.
Not mating.
Not claiming.
Just being.
Grant – The Bite He Didn't Take
Her skin was soft where her neck met her shoulder.
His wolf begged to bite.
To mark.
To seal the bond and bind her to him forever.
But Grant only kissed her there.
Light. Gentle.
A promise.
Not now.
Not yet.
When her breathing finally slowed in his arms, her body exhausted from the pull of her heat, she looked up at him, eyes soft and hazy.
"Do you think you'll still want me when I'm not in heat?"
His heart broke a little.
He kissed her forehead.
"Scottland, I didn't want you because of your heat."
He cupped her cheek, careful not to crowd her.
"I wanted you the moment I saw you standing in that clearing. When your eyes met mine and everything else went quiet."
She blinked.
"I'll want you when you're furious. When you're sick. When you're eighty with gray hair and a cane."
She laughed, breathy and disbelieving.
"I'll want you," he said, "because you're you."
Scottland – After
Her heat passed like a storm.
Slowly, gently, her body cooled. The need settled. Her wolf curled up, purring.
And through all of it, Grant never once took advantage. He never demanded. Never pushed.
He just stayed.
The bond between them, though unmarked, glowed like moonlight between their hearts.
And when she woke that final morning, sweat-damp and quiet, Grant was still beside her—his hand tucked into hers, head leaned back against the headboard.
Watching over her.
Loving her.
Without a word.
Final Scene – The Unspoken Bond
Later, after a shower and fresh clothes, Scottland stepped out onto the porch. The sky was pale blue. Birds chirped in the trees. Somewhere, a river whispered through the hills.
Grant joined her, handing her a cup of tea.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Good."
They sat in silence for a while, watching the world turn slowly.
Then she turned to him.
"I think I want to stay."
Grant looked at her, something soft and fierce flickering in his eyes.
"I hoped you would."
And though no mark had been made, no bond sealed with teeth—
She was his.
And he was hers.
The rest would come with time.