Wulfric’s scent wrapped around me—pine, snow, heat, mate. He was spinning in the drifts ahead, pausing when he noticed the change in the air.
I lifted one paw.
Dark grey fur shimmered beneath the moonlight.
Madadh didn’t hesitate.
She launched us forward—down the short steps, snow spraying as we half-landed, half-collided with him. He went down with a surprised huff, then sprang back up immediately, circling me, nose pressed to my flank, my neck, my face.
Madadh didn't appreciate the sentiment, and neither did I.
I snapped my teeth at him—sharp, instinctive.
He froze.
Then lowered his head.
He pressed his face beneath my jaw, rubbing there slowly, reverently, scenting me back just as thoroughly. The contact sent a tremor through me so deep it felt like it reached my bones.
Love.
Possession.
Something ancient and unbreakable settling into place.
He pulled back suddenly, eyes flashing gold, then ran.
I didn’t think.
I followed.
Snow blurred beneath us as we tore along the loch’s edge, muscles singing, lungs burning with joy instead of pain. He glanced back once—just once—to be sure I was there.
I was.
We ran until the night itself seemed to open for us, until the ache in my body turned to exhilaration, until there was nothing left but motion and bond and moonlight.
We stopped together.
Heads lifted.
And we howled—two voices braided into one—rising into the cold sky beneath the watching moon.
Together.
At last.
Epilogue
Thaddeus
Waking to my naked wife’s swollen belly beneath my palm never failed to make me smile. And her scent—changed. Wulfric knew it instantly. She had taken to her first heat.
It was deeper now. More floral, threaded with earth. I brushed my thumb gently over the small swell of her belly, where our pup rested—still tiny, easily hidden beneath her dresses.
The day would come when we would have to tell her family. Any progress made with Ranald over the last three months would likely vanish in an instant.
Perhaps he would soften when he became Uncle Ranald.
