Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOGAN
The fire pops and shifts, sending shadows dancing across Mira's tear-stained face. She's still holding herself carefully apart from me, but I can smell how much the distance costs her. Her wolf wants comfort - my wolf needs to give it - but her mind isn't ready to accept what that means.
"You should sleep," I say quietly, keeping my voice neutral despite how much I want to pull her close. "It's been a long day."
"I should document the emotional impact of prolonged exposure," she mutters, but her hands shake slightly as she reaches for her notebook. "The psychological effects of isolation during fever progression..."
"Mira." I catch her hand before she can grab the notebook. "Rest first. Science later."
"But-"
"Doctor's orders." I risk brushing my thumb across her knuckles. "And since you're the doctor..."
Her laugh is watery but real. "That's a terrible attempt at manipulation."
"Is it working?"
She looks down at our joined hands, and I see the moment exhaustion starts winning over scientific dedication. "Maybe. But only because my observations would be compromised by current cognitive fatigue."
"Of course." I hide my smile at her clinical phrasing. "Purely scientific reasoning."
The wind howls outside, driving snow against the windows, and she shivers despite the fire's warmth. My wolf paces beneath my skin, desperate to care for her, to build her a proper den. Instead, I settle for gathering the softest blankets I own.
"What are you doing?" She watches me through heavy eyes as I arrange them near the hearth.
"Ensuring optimal conditions for rest and recovery." I mirror her formal tone, rewarded by another small laugh. "Unless you'd prefer to document that too?"
"I should at least note the time," she says, but her voice is getting softer, heavy with exhaustion. "For data consistency."
"It's just past midnight." I lay out another blanket, creating a nest she probably doesn't even realize she's gravitating toward. "Hour twenty-seven, if you're keeping track."
"Always keeping track." But she's swaying slightly where she sits, and her usual sharp focus is dulled by emotional and physical fatigue. Her wolf is closer to the surface than I've seen yet - evident in the way she's unconsciously arranging the blankets I set down, making them just so.
I pretend not to notice this distinctly wolf behavior. Instead, I add another log to the fire, letting her natural instincts work without scientific observation to make her self-conscious.
The storm rattles the windows, and she startles slightly at a particularly loud gust. Before I can move to comfort her, she's already shifted closer to me, an unconscious seeking of pack protection that makes my wolf preen.
"The temperature's dropping," she murmurs, though she's not shivering anymore. If anything, she's radiating heat like any healthy wolf should. Another change she hasn't documented yet. "We should monitor the effects on..."
"Sleep," I say gently, risking reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. "Your research will wait."
She leans into my touch before she can catch herself, eyes already heavy. "Just for a minute. Need to..." She yawns, and it's probably the most unguarded I've seen her. "Need to document the..."
"Shh." I guide her down onto the blankets, and she goes willingly, her body curling naturally toward mine. "Rest."
"Logan?" Her voice is barely a whisper as sleep starts to claim her.
"Mm?"
"Don't..." She fights to keep her eyes open. "Don't let me sleep through anything important."
My chest tightens at her words - at how even now, she's trying to maintain her scientific observer status. "I won't. Promise."
She makes a soft sound of acknowledgment and finally surrenders to exhaustion. I wait until her breathing evens out before allowing myself to really look at her; to catalog the changes she's been too afraid to acknowledge.
Her scent has shifted subtly in the past few hours - still uniquely her, but warmer somehow. More wolf. The claiming mark stands out darker against her pale throat, and even in sleep, she keeps tilting her head to display it. My wolf rumbles with satisfaction at the unconscious submission.
The fire needs tending, but I'm reluctant to move. She's pressed against my side now, one hand fisted in my shirt, face tucked into my neck in a distinctly wolf gesture of trust. Every protective instinct I have is singing with contentment.
Outside, the storm continues to build. The wind drives snow against the windows in waves, but in here everything is warm, safe. The contrast only heightens my need to guard, to keep, to claim. My wolf paces beneath my skin, not with fever-fury but with quiet determination.
I catch myself scanning the cabin, mentally cataloging what needs to be done to make it proper den space. The impulse is pure alpha-mate instinct - wanting to prove I can provide, can keep her safe and comfortable. It's exactly the kind of behavior she'd want to document and analyze.
But there's no scientific explanation for the way her wolf reaches for mine even in sleep. No research notes that can capture how right she feels in my arms, how perfectly she fits against me. How even now, hours after her tears dried, my wolf bristles at the memory of her calling herself broken.
A log shifts in the fire, sending up sparks, and Mira makes a small sound in her sleep. She burrows closer, seeking warmth, and that's when I feel it - the first stirring of fever. Different from before. Slower, warmer, more... intentional.
Her body responds immediately, even unconscious. Her skin heats slightly, her scent sweetening, and she practically purrs when I run my hand down her spine. Pure wolf reaction, with none of her human doubts to hold it back.
This isn't like the desperate waves of fever from before. This feels more like... recognition. Like her wolf finally accepting what mine has known since she first walked into my territory with her notebooks and her science and her carefully constructed walls.
I press my lips to her temple, breathe in our mingled scents, and try to prepare myself for what's coming. When she wakes, she'll feel this new fever. Will feel how it affects her too, not just me. All her careful research, her documented cases, none of them will explain this.
The claiming mark seems to pulse gently under my gaze, drawing my attention like a beacon. My wolf wants to renew it, to deepen the claim until there's no possibility of it fading like she fears. But that's not what she needs right now.
What she needs is to discover this on her own terms. To feel how different this is without my influence. To trust her wolf's instincts without my alpha energy pushing her.
So, I hold her and wait, watching the fire paint gold across her skin, matching the wolf-gold I know I'll see in her eyes when she wakes.
The storm howls outside, but she sleeps peacefully, totally at ease in my den, in my arms. Every now and then she makes small sounds - soft rumbles that are pure wolf. Sounds she probably doesn't even know she can make.
The fever continues its slow build, and I feel the moment it reaches her. Her breathing changes slightly, becomes deeper. Her hand flexes in my shirt. Her wolf stretches beneath her skin, reaching for mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Logan?" Her voice is sleep-rough but wanting as her eyes flutter open. Gold bleeds into brown as she looks up at me, and I smell her confusion - not at the fever, but at her lack of fear.
"I'm here." I keep my voice soft, gentle. "How do you feel?"
She presses closer instead of answering, nose finding my throat in another instinctive wolf gesture. "Warm. But not... not like before. Different."
"Different how?"
She's quiet for a moment, and I can practically see her scientific mind trying to categorize the sensations. But then she does something that surprises us both - she deliberately presses her face into my neck and inhales deeply.
"Your scent," she murmurs against my skin. "It's... clearer somehow. Stronger. Like I can read every emotion, every..." She tenses suddenly, scientific awareness crashing back. "That's not possible. Enhanced olfactory sensitivity isn't documented in any of the cases. The fever shouldn't be affecting my wolf's dormant abilities."
"Mira." I run my hand down her spine, feeling how she fights not to arch into the touch. "Maybe it's time to stop comparing this to other cases."
"But the research-"
"Isn't accounting for what's happening right now." I gentle my voice despite how my wolf wants to growl at her retreat into science. "You can feel it, can't you? How different this fever is?"
She shivers, and I know it's not from cold. Her skin is hot under my palm, matching my own fever-warm temperature. "It's not just affecting you this time."
"No." I risk brushing my thumb over the claiming mark, rewarded by her sharp intake of breath. "It's not."
"That's not..." She swallows hard but doesn't pull away from my touch. "The previous cases never showed reciprocal fever response in non-shifting wolves. It shouldn't be possible for me to..."
"To what?" I press my lips to her temple, feel her pulse jump. "To feel the mate fever? To respond to it?"
"Don't." But there's no heat in her protest. If anything, she sounds afraid - not of me, but of hoping. "Please don't say that word."
"Which word?" I keep my voice soft even as the fever builds between us. "Mate?"
She makes a sound that's half whimper, half growl - a wolf sound she probably doesn't even realize she's capable of. "Logan..."
"Tell me what you're feeling." I cup her face, make her meet my eyes. "Not what the research says you should feel. Not what you think is possible. What are you actually feeling right now?"
The fire crackles in the silence as she struggles with herself. I can smell her conflict - the scientist wanting to analyze, the wolf wanting to submit to what's happening.
Finally, she whispers, "Everything."
The admission hangs between us, heavy with possibility. Her eyes are more gold than brown now, and she's not trying to hide it. Not trying to explain it away. Her wolf is right there, watching me through her gaze with an intensity that makes my fever spike higher.
"Everything?" I trace her cheekbone with my thumb, watching her pupils dilate. "Be more specific, doctor. For your research notes."
Her laugh is shaky but real. "You're teasing me."
"Always." I brush my lips across her forehead, feeling how she trembles. "But I still want to know what you're feeling."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I let her process, even though my wolf is straining toward her, desperate to close this final distance.
"Warm," she says finally. "Like my blood is singing. I can smell everything - the storm outside, the wood smoke, you..." Her voice catches. "Especially you. And my wolf, she's... she's never been this close to the surface. Never been this strong."
"What else?"
"I can feel your fever." Her hand slides up to rest over my heart. "Not like before, when I was just observing it. I can feel it in my own body, like it's calling to something in me. Making my wolf want to..." She cuts off, color flooding her cheeks.
"Want to what?"
Instead of answering, she tilts her head, baring her throat in a gesture that makes my wolf howl. The claiming mark stands out dark and vital against her pale skin.
"I shouldn't want this," she whispers. "Shouldn't want to submit, to let my wolf..."
"But you do want it." It's not a question. I can smell her need, her wolf's desperate desire to give in.
"Yes." The admission seems to cost her something. "God help me, I do."
The fever burns higher between us, and this time when she shivers, I feel it echo through my own body. Everything about this is different from the desperate waves before. This is slower, deeper, more...
"Intentional," she murmurs, like she's reading my thoughts. "Like the flowers knew exactly what they were doing."
"Like the flowers knew exactly what they were doing."
"Dangerous hypothesis, doctor." I trace the claiming mark with my thumb, feeling her pulse jump beneath the touch. "Suggesting plants have intent. Not very scientific of you."
"Nothing about this is scientific anymore." Her voice shakes slightly as the fever continues its slow build. "None of my research explains this. The enhanced senses, the reciprocal fever response, the way my wolf feels so... so..."
"Present?" I suggest when she trails off. "Strong?"
"Real." The word comes out almost desperate. "She's never felt this real before. Like she's actually part of me instead of just... just broken pieces that don't work right."
A growl builds in my chest at her choice of words, but before I can protest, she continues.
"And I know what you're going to say - that I'm not broken. But Logan..." She presses closer, seeking comfort even as she argues. "Non-shifting wolves don't suddenly develop enhanced senses. They don't experience reciprocal fever responses. They don't feel their wolves getting stronger instead of retreating. None of this follows established patterns."
"Good." I thread my fingers into her hair, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. "Maybe it's time for new patterns."
"That's not how science works."
"No?" I lean down, brush my lips across her forehead. "Then explain this. Explain how you can smell my emotions. Explain why your wolf is stronger by the hour. Explain why this fever feels like recognition instead of desperation."
She makes a soft sound that's pure wolf - wanting and afraid all at once. "I can't."
"Can't? Or won't?"
"Both." Her hands fist in my shirt as another wave of fever washes through us both. "Because if I admit this is different, if I let myself believe..."
"Believe what?"
"That this might be real." The words come out barely above a whisper. "That you might actually want..."
"You?" I cup her face in my hands, making her meet my eyes. "I've wanted you since you walked into my territory with your notebooks and your science and your wolf that calls to mine even when you try to deny it."
The fire crackles between us as she processes this, as the fever builds slow and inevitable in our blood. When she speaks again, her voice is small but certain.
"Show me."
That soft request changes everything. The fever surges between us, but it's not the desperate need from before. This is something deeper, something that makes both our wolves rise to the surface with purpose.
"Are you sure?" I need her to be certain, need her to choose this with full awareness. "Once I start, I won't be able to..."
"I know." She tilts her head, deliberately baring her throat, the claiming mark dark against her skin. "I can feel it. How different this is. How... right it feels."
My wolf howls in triumph, but I force myself to hold back, to give her one last chance to retreat into her scientific distance. "What about your research? Your documentation?"
Her laugh is shaky but real. "I think..." She presses closer, and the contact sends sparks through my blood. "I think some things need to be experienced rather than studied."
The admission breaks something loose in my chest. I gather her closer, nose at the claiming mark, breathe in our mingled scents. "Say it again."
"Which part?" But she knows, I can smell it on her.
"About experiencing rather than studying."
She turns her head, brings her lips to my ear. "Show me what the research can't explain."
My control snaps.
As I lower my mouth to hers, the storm howls outside and the fire crackles behind us, but all I can focus on is how she yields to me, how her wolf rises to meet mine without hesitation or fear.
For the first time since the flowers triggered this, there's no desperation in our need. No frantic edge to the fever. Just the slow, inevitable recognition of what we're becoming.
What we might already be. If she can accept it. If she can truly allow herself to believe it.