Chapter 46: Werwolf Reunion
1707 Words
Her movement surprised me—not because I didn’t want her, but because I felt how intentional it was.
When she straddled me, it wasn’t hunger alone. It was trust.
My wolf’s low growl rolled through my chest before I could stop it, a sound of approval, of recognition, of mine—but I forced him down immediately. This wasn’t about claiming. This was about choosing.
I placed my hands on her hips, firm but steady, grounding both of us.
“Bunny,” I murmured, my voice rougher now, honest. “You don’t owe me closeness to prove anything. Not love. Not trust. Not healing.”
Her forehead rested against mine, her breath warm, uneven.
“I want you,” I admitted quietly, because she deserved truth, not restraint disguised as virtue. “But I want you whole more than I want you now.”
She stilled at that.
“You’ve been controlled. Directed. Used as a tool in someone else’s fantasy,” I continued, brushing my thumb along her spine in slow, soothing lines. “I won’t be another man who takes from you because you’re hurting.”
My wolf pressed against my ribs, restless, aching—but obedient. He knew this mattered.
“If you stay here like this,” I said softly, “it’s because you want to. Not because my scent pulls you. Not because your bond tugs you. Not because you think you should.”
Her eyes met mine, glossy but clear.
“You don’t have to be brave for me,” I whispered. “You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to be ready.”
I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder instead—deliberately not her mouth.
“You just have to be safe.”
Slowly, carefully, I guided her to rest against my chest instead, one arm wrapping fully around her, the other cradling her head. My heartbeat was strong beneath her ear—steady, present.
“And if all you can do tonight,” I said, lowering my voice as the clock ticked closer to the meeting, “is sit in my arms while the world waits… then that’s enough.”
I felt her relax then—not surrendering, but settling.
And in that moment, I knew:
this was how I would love her.
Not as a fairytale hero.
Not as a beast driven by instinct.
But as a man who chose her—
again and again—
even when it hurt.
Her annoyance didn’t scare me.
What scared me was how aware she suddenly was.
She wasn’t confused anymore—she was thinking. Processing. And that meant she was stronger than she realized.
I loosened my hold immediately, not letting go, but giving her space within my arms. Letting her know she wasn’t trapped here. That she never would be with me.
“You have every right to be angry,” I said quietly. “I dropped too much on you at once, and I didn’t stop to ask if you were ready to hear it.”
She didn’t look away, didn’t soften either. Her spine straightened slightly, and I felt the woman inside her step forward—the one Mario had tried to bury.
“I don’t want you to protect me by hiding things,” she said firmly. “I want to understand what’s happening to me. To us.”
The word us hit harder than any accusation ever could.
I nodded slowly. “Then we do this your way.”
I shifted just enough so we were face to face, still close, still warm, but now equals.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “Mario isn’t human. Not in the way you and I mean it. But you’re also right that he wore the mask well enough to fool you—and that isn’t your shame to carry.”
My thumb brushed her knuckles, grounding her, grounding myself.
“In my world,” I continued, choosing each word carefully, “vampires don’t just feed on blood. They feed on control. On dependency. On rewriting truth until their version is the only one left standing.”
Her jaw tightened.
“And werewolves?” she asked.
I didn’t smile. Not yet.
“We bond,” I said simply. “Not because we have to—but because we choose to. A pack isn’t obedience. It’s responsibility. It’s protection given freely, not demanded.”
Her eyes searched my face, like she was testing whether I believed my own words.
“That’s why I won’t drag you into a reunion you don’t understand,” I added. “And I won’t parade you as Luna just because others expect it.”
I leaned my forehead against hers.
“You’re not Luna because of a title. You’re Luna because you are. And if you need time to learn what that means, then my pack will wait.”
Silence stretched between us—thick, heavy—but not uncomfortable.
Then she sighed, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.
“You talk like someone who expects me to leave,” she said softly.
The truth rose in my chest, painful and necessary.
“I talk like someone who loves you enough to survive it if you do,” I answered. “But hopes every day you won’t.”
Her breath hitched.
“And if I stay?” she whispered.
My wolf stirred—not demanding, not possessive—hopeful.
“Then I’ll teach you everything,” I promised. “Slowly. Safely. On your terms.”
I brushed a kiss to her temple, light and reverent.
“No more monsters hiding behind pretty words. No more secrets that hurt you.”
She didn’t pull away.
And in that moment, I knew—
whatever came next,
we would face it together.
Her words were soft, curious—but the way her lips brushed mine was anything but innocent.
It wasn’t a kiss meant to claim.
It was a question.
And that question shattered the last thread of restraint I had left.
My breath hitched as I looked up away from her, I wanted to really looked at her—at the woman who had been broken, silenced, controlled, and was now choosing to step forward instead of shrinking back.
“You’re wrong,” I murmured, my voice low, rough with everything I’d been holding back. “And I’ll show you why.”
Before doubt could return to her eyes, before fear could crawl back in, I moved—swift, decisive—but never cruel.
I guided her down onto the sofa, my body shielding hers, not trapping it. My hands braced on either side of her head, my weight careful, controlled. The small blush blooming across her cheeks and the way her lips curved into that shy, daring smile nearly undid me.
That smile wasn’t fear.
It was trust.
I lowered my head and kissed her—not like a man asking permission, but like a wolf claiming shelter around what was precious. Slow. Deep. Devouring, yes—but reverent.
Not taking.
Honoring.
My wolf surged, not in hunger, but in recognition. In relief.
This was the difference.
Not control—but choice.
Not fear—but desire.
Not obedience—but want.
When I finally pulled back, resting my forehead against hers, my breathing was heavy but steady.
“This,” I said softly, brushing my nose against hers, “is what I mean. Vampires take until there’s nothing left. Werewolves protect until there’s nothing but you.”
My thumb traced her jaw, grounding us both.
“And I will never take from you what you don’t freely give.”
Her eyes shone—not with confusion this time, but understanding.
And in that moment, pinned beneath me not by force but by connection, she wasn’t lost anymore.
She was choosing.
And so was I.
Thumper’s hesitation was gentle, not fearful—and that alone made me pause.
Her words were soft, careful, but honest, and I respected them more than she probably realized.
“As tempting as this is,” she said timidly, eyes lifting to mine, “and I’m not gonna lie, I really want to see where this goes… we have a reunion soon. Think we could start getting ready?”
A low growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it—not in anger, but in frustration at my own wolf. He didn’t want distance. He wanted now. Wanted her.
But she wasn’t pulling away because she was scared.
She was choosing responsibility.
And that mattered.
I straightened, forcing control back into my body as she slipped from beneath my hands. She walked toward her room, and even with the space between us, her scent followed—warm, alive, undeniably affected by what we had just shared.
My wolf paced inside me, restless and impatient, doing absolutely nothing to help my composure.
After a short while, she returned.
And damn.
She wore jeans that fit her just right, a long-sleeved blue shirt that mirrored my own color choice without even realizing it. Her boots were neat, a little fancy—like she was trying to feel put together without overthinking it.
We looked… matched.
Balanced.
When she reached me, our fingers found each other naturally, as if they’d always belonged that way. We didn’t speak as we left the pack house, the quiet between us comfortable, grounding.
Walking hand in hand felt normal in a way that startled me.
Like something restored.
As we reached the apartment complex office, Thumper slowed, her grip tightening slightly. She looked up at me with an odd expression—not fear, not doubt—but something deeper.
Recognition.
“This place…” she murmured. “I feel like I’ve been here before. Like just visited. Do you think I will belong here?”
I squeezed her hand gently, anchoring her.
“You did,” I said softly. “And you still do.”
Her gaze lingered on the building, then drifted back to me—searching, trusting, trying.
Whatever waited for us inside, whatever truths were about to surface, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She wasn’t walking into it alone.
Not anymore.
- Writer
