Updated Jan 5, 2026 • ~6 min read
POV: Rory
The dreams changed after my first shift.
Before, they’d been fragmented. Confusing. Running through forests with no context. Blood and hunting I didn’t understand.
Now they were vivid. Explicit. Terrifying in their intensity.
I dreamed of running beside Fen. Our wolves moving in perfect sync. Hunting together. The thrill of the chase. The satisfaction of the kill.
Then the dreams shifted.
Mating.
Not human. Wolf. Primal. Instinctive. His larger form covering mine. Claiming. Possessing. The bond screaming rightness while my human mind recoiled.
I woke gasping. Sheets tangled. Body aching for something I’d never wanted consciously.
The bond was affecting me. Making me want him. Crave him. Need him in ways that terrified me.
Because I barely knew him. Didn’t trust him. Was furious he’d been watching me my entire life without consent.
But my wolf didn’t care about consent or logic or rational thought.
She wanted her mate. And she was making that very clear.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. Too wound up. Too aware of my own body’s betrayal.
At 3 AM, I went to the kitchen. Made tea I wouldn’t drink. Tried not to think about the dreams.
My phone buzzed. Text from Fen:
I feel what you’re dreaming. The bond shares everything. I’m sorry. I’ll try to shield better.
Heat flooded my face. He’d felt the dreams. The wanting. The explicit wolf-mating my subconscious had conjured.
I typed back: Can you turn it off? The bond?
No. It’s permanent. But I can learn to filter what gets through. Give you privacy.
Please.
For what it’s worth, I’m having the same dreams. Have been for years. Knowing you were mine but couldn’t claim you. It’s torture.
I stared at the message. Years of this. Of wanting someone he couldn’t have. Waiting for me to awaken so the bond could complete.
That explained the obsession. The stalking. Still didn’t make it okay.
But it made it comprehensible.
We need to talk, I typed. About boundaries. About what this bond means. About expectations.
Tomorrow. After training. We’ll talk about everything.
The next day, Fen taught me to shift at will.
It hurt less each time. My body learning the process. Bones and muscles understanding the transformation.
By the tenth shift, I could do it in under a minute. By the twentieth, it barely hurt at all.
“Good,” Fen said, watching me shift back to human. “You’re learning fast. Natural talent. Your mother was the same.”
“You knew her well?”
“Well enough. She was brave. Fierce. Loved your father with everything she had.” He handed me clothes—he’d started bringing spare sets after I kept ending up naked. “She wanted you to be free. To live without pack politics and bloodline prejudice. She died for that dream.”
“And now I’m living it. Sort of.”
“You’re surviving it. There’s a difference.” He sat on a fallen log. Gestured for me to join him. “We need to talk about the bond.”
“Yes, we do.”
“It’s going to keep intensifying. The dreams will get worse. The need to be close will become overwhelming. Eventually, we’ll have to—” He stopped. Started again. “The bond demands completion. Physical. To fully seal it.”
“You mean sex.”
“Yes. But not yet. Not until you’re ready. Not until you choose it freely. The curse requires that. Requires you to accept me knowing everything. Not just because the bond compels you.”
“What happens if we don’t? Complete it?”
“Pain. For both of us. The bond will keep pushing. Keep demanding. Until it’s unbearable.” He looked away. “I’ve lived with it for twenty-six years. I can handle more. But you—you’re new to this. It’ll be harder for you.”
“So I either sleep with you or suffer?”
“Or we find a middle ground. Spend time together. Let the bond settle. Build trust before anything physical.” He met my eyes. “Rory, I don’t want to force you into anything. The curse already stole your choice about the bond. I won’t steal your choice about this too.”
The honesty surprised me. “You really mean that.”
“I’ve waited three hundred years. I can wait longer. Until you’re ready. Until you want me not because the bond says to, but because you choose to.”
Something in my chest softened. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for basic decency.”
We trained for hours more. Shifting. Fighting in wolf form. Learning to use teeth and claws. Fen was patient. Encouraging. Never pushing too hard.
By sunset, I was exhausted. Covered in dirt. Completely spent.
“You’re good,” Fen said. “Better than most wolves twice your age. Your hybrid nature gives you advantages. Faster healing. More strength. Better senses than pure wolves or pure humans.”
“Advantages won’t matter if the pack sends twenty hunters.”
“No. But they’ll help you survive long enough for me to kill the hunters.” He said it so casually. Like murder was just a fact. “I won’t let them take you. Won’t let anyone hurt you. That’s a promise.”
“Why?” The question burst out. “Why do you care so much? The bond explains attraction. But this—this protectiveness, this obsession—that’s not just the bond.”
He was quiet for a long time. Then: “Because I failed your mother. I promised to protect her. To keep her safe. And I failed. Watched her die. Watched the pack tear her apart while I was too late to save her.” His voice was raw. “You’re her daughter. Her legacy. And you’re my fated mate. If I fail you too—if I let the pack kill you—then my entire existence is worthless. Three hundred years of curse. Three hundred years of waiting. All for nothing.”
“I’m not your redemption.”
“No. You’re my purpose. There’s a difference.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. To the weight of three hundred years of waiting. Of guilt. Of hope pinned entirely on me.
That night, the dreams came again.
But different this time.
Softer. Fen’s wolf beside mine. Not mating. Just… close. Touching. Comfortable. His presence soothing instead of demanding.
And when I woke, the bond was quieter. Less insistent.
Like he’d heard me. Understood. Was trying to give me space even in dreams.
For a stalker, he was surprisingly respectful.
Which made everything more confusing.
Because part of me was starting to want him. Not just the bond. Not just wolf instinct.
Me. Human Rory. Starting to care about the cursed rogue who’d spent his life protecting me.
And that was terrifying.
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