Updated Jan 5, 2026 • ~6 min read
POV: Rory
The storm hit three days later. Massive. Unseasonable. The kind that turned roads into rivers and knocked out power for miles.
I’d driven to the forest for our nightly “bond-soothing” session. Now I was trapped. No way to get back to town. The forest road had flooded. Trees down everywhere.
“You’ll have to stay here,” Fen said, watching rain pound the windows. “Until the storm passes. Could be days.”
“Days? Trapped in a cabin with you?”
“Unless you want to walk through a hurricane. Your choice.”
The bond made the choice for me. Staying close to Fen felt safe. Leaving felt like tearing myself apart.
“Fine. But ground rules. Separate sleeping spaces when possible. No assuming proximity means anything more than bond maintenance. And—”
Thunder crashed. The cabin shook. Something hit the roof—tree branch, maybe.
“And we don’t die in a storm,” Fen finished. “Agreed.”
The cabin was small. One room serving as bedroom, living area, and kitchen. Bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. Everything he needed for survival. Nothing extra.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked.
“Built it seventy years ago. Before that, just camped. Caves. Temporary shelters. Finally decided if I was cursed to stay forever, I might as well be comfortable.”
Seventy years in this cabin. Two hundred and thirty before that wandering the forest. The loneliness was incomprehensible.
“Do the other rogues visit?”
“Sometimes. They have their own territories. Their own shelters. We gather monthly. Share news. Trade supplies. Help each other survive.” He pulled out blankets. Started making a bed on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“You get the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“Fen, we shared a bed last night. The bond isn’t going to suddenly accept you on the floor just because there’s a storm.”
“Last night was different. You chose to stay. Tonight you’re trapped. I won’t take advantage.”
“It’s not taking advantage if I’m offering. The bond is already screaming at the distance. Just—get in the bed. We’ll deal with our emotional complications tomorrow.”
He hesitated. Then nodded. “Okay.”
We settled in as the storm raged. Lightning illuminating the cabin. Thunder so loud conversation was impossible. Rain hammering like fists demanding entry.
The bond purred contentedly. Happy we were close. Together. Safe.
“Can I ask you something?” I said during a quiet moment.
“Anything.”
“Do you regret it? Saving Selene from torture? Choosing mercy?”
He was quiet for a long time. “I regret that she had to die. That the pack forced that choice. But the act itself? No. She begged me to do it. Begged me to spare her days of agony. Loving someone means honoring their wishes. Even when those wishes break you.”
“Three hundred years seems like excessive punishment for mercy.”
“The pack didn’t see it as mercy. Saw it as weakness. Disobedience. Rogues choosing love over pack law undermines their authority. So they made an example. Cursed me. Let every wolf know what happens when you refuse to kill your mate.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“That’s pack politics. Brutal. Unforgiving. Designed to maintain order through fear.” He turned to face me. “It’s why your mother ran. Why she hid you. She knew what they’d do if they found you. Knew they’d kill you just for existing.”
“And you’ve spent twenty-six years protecting someone you’d never met. Just because you promised a dying woman.”
“I protected you because you’re mine. The bond knew from the moment you were born. Fated mates recognize each other. Even as infants. Even when one of us was three hundred years older.” His hand found mine in the darkness. “I’ve loved you your entire life. Watched you grow. Wanted you every day. And hated myself for it because what kind of monster falls in love with a child?”
“You didn’t fall in love with a child. You recognized your fated mate. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? I watched you. Followed you. Knew everything about you while you knew nothing about me. That’s not love. That’s obsession.”
“It’s both,” I said. “And it’s terrifying. But Fen—I felt you. Last night. Through the bond. Your emotions. Your memories. Three hundred years of loneliness. And in all that time, you never hurt anyone who didn’t attack first. Never took advantage. Never became the monster they said you were.”
“I’ve killed, Rory. A lot. Pack wolves who came hunting. Humans who got too close to rogue territory. I’m not innocent.”
“You’re not evil either. You’re complicated. Like me. Like everyone trying to survive impossible circumstances.” I squeezed his hand. “And you protected me. For twenty-six years. Even when it meant staying cursed. Even when breaking free might have been easier if you’d just let me die.”
“I couldn’t. Won’t. You’re everything. The bond. The curse. The hope. All of it.” His voice cracked. “If I lose you—if you choose to walk away after all this—I don’t know what I’ll become. What I’ll do. Three hundred years of hope ending would break whatever’s left of my sanity.”
The vulnerability was devastating. This powerful, dangerous, cursed rogue admitting I had the power to destroy him.
“I’m not walking away,” I said. “I’m still figuring things out. Still processing. But Fen—I’m not walking away.”
He kissed me. Soft. Questioning. Giving me space to refuse.
I didn’t refuse. Kissed him back. Let myself feel it. The attraction. The bond. The terrifying certainty that this was right even though it was insane.
When we broke apart, the storm was still raging. But inside the cabin felt calm. Safe. Like we’d found shelter from more than just weather.
“This doesn’t mean I’ve decided everything,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m still scared. Still not sure if what I feel is real or just bond compulsion.”
“That’s fair.”
“But I’m also—I’m starting to care. About you. About this. About the possibility of us.”
His relief crashed through the bond. “That’s more than I deserve.”
“Probably. But you’re getting it anyway.”
We fell asleep tangled together. Storm outside. Peace inside. Both of us choosing to be there. To try.
And maybe that was enough.
For now.
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