POV Blake
Another day slips by, dragging the weight of silence. But now, as twilight spills across the sky, Matthias turns to me with a quiet spark in his eyes.
"Want to run?"
Three words that shouldn't make my heart do backflips, but here we are. Matthias stands by our bedroom window, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of goodbye, and my wolf is already pacing like a kid outside Disneyland.
‘Yes, yes, YES,’ she chants in my head. ‘Run with mate. Run now. Why are we still standing here with only two legs like idiots?’
"Easy there, killer," I mutter, but I'm already stripping.
Matthias grins. "Your wolf's that eager?"
"She's been imprisoned for years. She's making up for lost time with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated squirrel."
The shift comes easier now—still hurts like a bitch, but it's a familiar pain. Like an old friend who greets you by punching you in the face.
My bones rearrange themselves with slightly less protest, and then I'm on four legs, shaking out my fur.
‘Better,’ my wolf sighs. ‘So much better.’
Matthias shifts beside me, all silver grace and Alpha power, and my wolf practically swoons. ‘Our mate is magnificent!’
‘Down, girl. We're supposed to be running, not ogling.’
‘We can multitask.’
The first step into the forest feels like coming home. Pine needles soft under our paws, evening air carrying a thousand stories in scent form, the whole world suddenly bigger and smaller at once.
Then Matthias takes off, and it's on.
We tear through the territory like we're racing our own shadows. My wolf is living her best life—leaping fallen logs, weaving between trees, pushing our new body to limits I didn't know existed.
The mind-link crackles to life between us, intimate as a whisper, loud as a shout.
‘You're fast,’ Matthias observes, approval warming his mental voice.
‘Years of repressed wolf energy. I'm basically a supernatural battery.’
His mental laugh feels like sunshine. ‘Want to see the eastern border? It's beautiful at this time.’
We run together, sometimes side by side, sometimes playing chase like oversized puppies. My wolf provides running commentary that ranges from helpful "Sharp turn ahead", to horny "Look at his haunches!", to philosophical "Trees are just very slow wolves, think about it".
When we finally pause at a creek to drink, Matthias's thoughts turn softer.
‘I've been thinking about the future.’
‘Dangerous pastime.’
‘About us. Our family.’
Mental images flow through the link—little wolves tumbling in the yard, bedtime stories, first shifts.
‘Three pups? Maybe four?’
My heart simultaneously explodes and implodes. ‘Four? What are we, rabbits?’
‘Says the woman who called me 'insatiable' last night.’
‘That was a compliment, not a breeding plan.’
But he's already painting pictures with thoughts—a little girl with my stubbornness and his strategic mind, twin boys with mischievous grins, a baby with his eyes and my laugh.
The images are so vivid, so achingly possible, that I forget how to breathe.
‘They'd be terrors,’ I manage, playing along even as my chest constricts. ‘Your leadership genes mixed with my chaos? The pack wouldn't survive.’
‘They'd be perfect.’ His mental voice goes tender. ‘Strong like their mother. Wise like their father.’
‘You got those backwards, buddy.’
We debate names as we trot toward the next marker—traditional versus modern, family names versus starting fresh.
He likes Aubrey for a girl. I counter with something less princess-y.
He suggests naming a boy after his father. I suggest therapy for the kid's future complex.
It's domestic as fuck. It's everything I never dared dream of. It's borrowed happiness I'm stealing with both hands.
Because in two days, my parents will arrive. In two days, this fantasy shatters like spun glass.
In two days, I might lose everything.
‘You okay?’ Matthias catches my mood shift through the bond. ‘Your thoughts went dark.’
‘Just overwhelmed. Good overwhelmed.’ The lie tastes bitter even in mind-speak. ‘Never thought I'd have this.’
‘You have it. You have me. Always.’
We reach a clearing as the moon rises, and it's stupidly romantic.
Silver light on grass, stars beginning their nightly show, the whole Disney movie setup. We shift back to human, and suddenly I'm in his arms, skin to skin under constellation witnesses.
"Tomorrow we finalize security," he murmurs against my hair. "Zack's got the patrol schedules locked down. Helen's preparing diplomatic tea. Everything's ready."
Ready. Right.
Ready for my parents to arrive and destroy this perfect life I've built on lies.
"Thank you," I whisper, clinging tighter. "For all of it. For wanting me. For the future we talked about."
"Hey." He pulls back, studying my face in the moonlight. "Why does that sound like goodbye?"
"It's not." Another lie. I'm getting good at them. "I'm just... emotional. The wolf thing. The parent thing. The ‘you’ thing."
"The ‘me’ thing?"
"You know. Being disgustingly perfect and making me feel feelings."
He laughs, but his eyes stay serious. "I love you, Blake Henderson. Whatever comes next, that doesn't change."
I kiss him instead of answering, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. Memorizing the taste of him, the feel of his hands in my hair, the way his heart beats against mine. Storing it all away like a squirrel hoarding for winter.
If this is my last night of happiness, I'm going to be greedy.
I'm going to take everything.