He held my gaze for another moment, then lowered his head in what seemed like a nod. And then it began.
The transformation was both beautiful and terrible to witness. His body contorted, fur receding, limbs elongating, the very structure of his skeleton visibly shifting beneath his skin.He made sounds that were neither human nor wolf—grunts and growls of pain that made my heart ache.
I wanted to go to him, to offer comfort, but I remembered his rule about staying put. So I watched, bearing witness to this most vulnerable moment, understanding now why he had initially hidden it from me.
The process seemed to take forever but was probably less than a minute. And then Mason—human Mason—was kneeling on the forest floor, naked and panting, his head bowed as he recovered from the ordeal.
“Mason,” I said softly, no longer able to stay put. I slid off the log and approached him slowly, giving him time to adjust.
He looked up as I neared, his eyes still more gold than amber, a wildness lingering in his gaze that spoke of the wolf still close to the surface. “Julian,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re still here.”
“Of course I am,” I said, kneeling in front of him. “Where else would I be?”
He reached for me, his hand trembling slightly. “You weren’t afraid. Even when you saw… everything.”
“No,” I confirmed, taking his hand. “I wasn’t afraid. I’m still not.”
He searched my face, looking for any sign of deception or hidden fear. Finding none, he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t understand you.”
“What’s to understand? I love you. All of you.”
“Most people would run screaming if they saw what you just saw,” he said, still seeming unable to believe my reaction.
“I’m not most people,” I reminded him with a small smile. “And you’re not most boyfriends. We’re extraordinary together, Mason. When are you going to accept that?”
A laugh, slightly disbelieving but genuine, escaped him. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” I said lightly, then sobered. “So are we done with this self-imposed exile? Because I really miss sleeping in the same bed as you.”
He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me in a fierce embrace. “Yes,” he said into my hair. “God, yes. I’ve been miserable without you.”
“Good,” I said, returning his embrace. “Because I’ve been miserable too. And life is too short for needless misery.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other in the gathering darkness of the forest. Then Mason pulled back slightly, a realization dawning on his face.
“I should probably put some clothes on,” he said, glancing down at his naked form.
I laughed, the sound breaking the last of the tension between us. “Probably. Though I’m not complaining about the view.”
He rolled his eyes but smiled, rising to his feet and offering me a hand up. “I have spare clothes in the truck. Always do, in case of unexpected shifts.”
As we walked back to the truck, hand in hand, I felt a profound sense of rightness settle over me. We had faced one of Mason’s deepest fears together, and we had emerged stronger for it.
There would be challenges ahead, I knew. Mason’s wolf was a fundamental part of him, and learning to fully integrate it into our life together would take time and patience. There might be more scratches, more moments of lost control, more adjustments needed.
But tonight had proven what I’d known all along: we were stronger together than apart. And no amount of fur, fangs, or primal instinct could change the simple truth that we belonged to each other, wholly and completely.
As Mason dressed and we prepared to head home—our home—I made a silent promise to both of us. I would never letfear—his or mine—separate us again. Whatever came next, we would face it together, human and wolf, bound by a love that transcended ordinary definitions.
And that, I decided as Mason pulled me close for a kiss that held both tenderness and a hint of that wild possessiveness I was coming to cherish, was worth any risk.
Epilogue
Six months later
“Are you sure about this?” Mason asked for approximately the hundredth time since we’d left the cabin this morning. “We can still change plans, do something more… normal for our anniversary.”
I rolled my eyes, adjusting my backpack as we hiked up the narrow mountain trail. “For the last time, yes, I’m sure. It was my idea, remember?”
