Updated Jan 5, 2026 • ~5 min read
POV: Rory
The bond became impossible to ignore after learning about Selene.
Every time I tried to leave the forest, pain lanced through my chest. Every hour away from Fen felt like suffocation. The mate bond demanding proximity. Demanding I choose.
“You’re spending every night in the forest now,” Morgana observed. “That’s new.”
“The bond is intensifying. Being apart hurts.”
“How much does it hurt?”
“Like my chest is being crushed. Like I can’t breathe properly. Like I’m missing a limb.” I looked at her. “How do I choose someone when the choice isn’t really free? When the bond is forcing me toward him?”
“Maybe the bond isn’t forcing. Maybe it’s just revealing what you already want but are afraid to admit.”
“I barely know him.”
“You know he’s been protecting you for twenty-six years. You know he killed his first mate rather than let her suffer. You know he’s carrying three hundred years of guilt and loneliness. That’s more than most people know about their partners after years of dating.”
She had a point. But it didn’t make the choice easier.
That night, the bond pulled so hard I couldn’t resist. Drove to the forest. Found Fen waiting at the cabin like he’d known I’d come.
“It’s getting worse,” he said. “The bond demanding completion. I’m sorry. I’m trying to shield, to give you space, but it’s—”
“Overwhelming. I know. I feel it too.” I sat on his porch steps. “How long until it becomes unbearable?”
“For me? It already is. For you? Days. Maybe a week. Then the pain will be constant. Unlivable.” He sat beside me. Careful not to touch. “We don’t have to complete the bond sexually. But we do need to be close. Physically. The bond needs contact. Proximity. Reassurance that we’re together.”
“So what, we cuddle until the bond calms down?”
“Essentially. Yes. It’s called bond-soothing. Physical closeness that satisfies the mate instinct without requiring sex.” He finally looked at me. “I know it’s not ideal. Forcing intimacy you’re not ready for. But the alternative is both of us in agony.”
“Show me.”
He held out his hand. I took it. The bond immediately calmed. The crushing pressure in my chest eased. Just from touching him.
“It works better with more contact,” Fen said quietly. “But this is a start.”
We sat on the porch holding hands like awkward teenagers. And for the first time in days, I could breathe properly.
“Tell me about the rogue community,” I said. “The map mentioned others living here.”
“There are twelve of us. Rogues cast out by different packs. We’ve built a life here. Hidden. Safe. The forest protects us in exchange for maintaining the curse.”
“The forest is sentient?”
“Old magic. Tied to the land. It made a deal with me three hundred years ago. I maintain the boundaries, keep pack wolves out, protect the outcasts who find their way here. In exchange, it sustains us. Provides shelter. Keeps us hidden from those who’d kill us.”
“And if I break the curse?”
“Then I’m free to leave. But the others—they’re still rogues. Still outcasts. Still need protection.” He squeezed my hand. “I won’t abandon them. Even if breaking the curse means I can finally walk beyond these trees.”
“So we’d stay here. In the forest.”
“Unless you wanted to leave. Then we’d figure something out. Together.” He met my eyes. “Rory, I’ve waited three hundred years. I can wait longer. Can adapt to whatever you need. I’m not going to force you into a life you don’t want.”
The bond purred at his words. At the promise to put me first.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “Part of me wants to run. Back to my normal life. Pretend none of this happened. But another part—”
“Knows you can’t go back. That you’ve changed. That your wolf is awake and refusing to be suppressed again.”
“Yes.”
“That’s normal. Grieving the life you thought you’d have while accepting the one you actually do.” He was quiet for a moment. “I grieved too. When I was cursed. Grieved my pack. My freedom. My first mate. Took decades before I could accept what I’d become. What my life would be.”
“And now?”
“Now I have hope. For the first time in centuries. Because you’re here. And maybe—maybe—that hope will be enough.”
We sat in comfortable silence. Hand in hand. The bond settling.
It wasn’t love. Not yet. But it was partnership forming. Trust building. The foundation of something that could become love if I let it.
Around midnight, exhaustion claimed me. I leaned against Fen without thinking. Let myself rest against his shoulder.
“Stay,” he said quietly. “Tonight. No expectations. No pressure. Just—stay. So we can both sleep without the bond tearing us apart.”
I should have said no. Should have maintained boundaries. Should have protected myself from getting too close too fast.
But the bond hummed with rightness. And I was so tired of fighting.
“Okay.”
He carried me inside. Laid me in his bed with gentleness that surprised me. Covered me with blankets. Turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“Couch. You get the bed.”
“Fen. The bond isn’t going to let you sleep on the couch. We both know that.”
He hesitated. Then: “I can sleep on the floor. Next to the bed. Close enough to satisfy the bond but not—”
“Get in the bed. We’re both adults. We can share a bed without it being sexual.”
He did. Carefully. Stayed on his side. But the bond sighed in relief at the proximity.
I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. The warmth of another person nearby. The feeling of safety I hadn’t known I was missing.
And dreamed of running through forests. Not alone. Never alone again.
With my mate beside me. Where I belonged.
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