Chapter Ten #2
Before I could say anything, Treat stepped forward with his offering. "I made this," he said, his voice gentle as he held out what I now recognized as a quilt. "Everyone needs something warm that belongs just to them."
As Liam accepted the quilt, it unfurled partially to reveal intricate patchwork in earthy tones—browns, greens, and amber that matched his lynx coloring. The craftsmanship was evident even to my untrained eye.
"Treat's been working on that for days," I explained to Liam. "Ever since I mentioned you might be staying."
Liam ran his fingers over the soft fabric, tracing the stitching with a look of absolute wonder. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and I worried for a moment that he might be overwhelmed. But he managed a small nod of thanks to Treat, who smiled in return.
Percy was last, hanging back until Treat nudged him forward. "I—I thought you might need these," he said so quietly I almost missed it, offering a leather-bound journal and a set of drawing pencils. "For when words are... difficult."
Liam froze, his eyes locking with Percy's in a moment of silent understanding. They were alike in many ways—both skittish, both traumatized, both struggling to communicate in a world that demanded words. But where Liam remained silent by choice or circumstance, Percy had found his voice.
The journal was beautiful—simple but elegant, with a sturdy cover and thick pages that would stand up to heavy use. The pencils were artist-grade, far better than the stub Liam had been using for his drawings.
Liam clutched all three gifts to his chest, his golden eyes suspiciously bright in the late afternoon light. He looked utterly overwhelmed, like someone who'd been dying of thirst suddenly offered an ocean.
"There's space on the shelf," I said gently, nodding toward my bookshelf. "If you want to put them somewhere safe."
He nodded, moving carefully to arrange his new possessions on an empty shelf. The lynx toy was positioned just so, the quilt folded neatly beside it, the journal and pencils placed with precision. His fingers lingered on each item, as if reassuring himself they were real.
The three omegas settled around my room—Bug cross-legged on the floor, Treat perched on the edge of my desk chair, and Percy standing with his back against the wall near the door. All of them kept a respectful distance from Liam, instinctively understanding his need for space.
I watched as Liam returned to his spot near me, still casting wondering glances at his gifts. A sudden inspiration struck me.
"I've been trying to explain to Liam about mates," I said, addressing the three omegas. "About what it means. But I think he might understand better hearing it from your perspective."
Bug clapped his hands, eyes lighting up. "Oh! Bug tell! Bug know about mates!"
Treat nodded thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea, actually. We've all had... different experiences finding our mates."
Percy remained silent, but his posture shifted slightly, a small nod indicating his willingness to participate.
"Would that be okay?" I asked Liam directly. "To hear what it's been like for them? Might help you understand better than my clumsy explanations."
Liam considered for a long moment, his eyes moving from one omega to the next. Finally, he gave a cautious nod.
"Who wants to go first?" I asked.
"Me! Me!" Bug raised his hand like an eager schoolchild. "Bug tell about Bear and mates and everything!"
I smiled, gesturing for him to proceed. "Go ahead, Bug. Just remember to give Liam space, okay?"
Bug nodded seriously, then scooted forward on the floor until he was about five feet from Liam—close enough for conversation, but far enough to respect his boundaries. He crossed his legs and settled his hands on his knees, his scarred face alight with enthusiasm.
"Bug tell story now," he announced, his fragmented speech taking on the cadence of a storyteller. "About Bear and Bug and how we became forever-people together."
Liam slid down the wall to sit on the floor, mirroring Bug's cross-legged position. His golden eyes were fixed intently on Bug's face, absorbing every word with the same careful attention he'd given my knife collection.
I settled back on my bed, hoping these three damaged souls who'd found healing through their mate bonds might succeed where I had failed—in helping Liam understand that being my mate didn't mean surrendering his hard-won freedom.
Bug rocked back and forth excitedly as he began his story, his fragmented speech painting a surprisingly clear picture of his claiming by Bear.
It was strange hearing such an intimate moment described in Bug's childlike vocabulary, but there was a raw honesty to his account that no polished storyteller could have matched.
I watched Liam's face carefully as Bug spoke, trying to gauge his reaction to this first account of what a claiming could be like when built on trust rather than fear.
"Bear found Bug hurt. Bad men chase Bug. Try hurt Bug more," he explained, gesturing to the faded scar that ran along his hairline. "Bear protect. Make safe place. Not touch Bug until Bug say okay."
He smiled at the memory, his scarred face transforming with genuine happiness. "Bug scared first. Many bad touches before. But Bear different. Bear wait. Bear gentle."
Liam leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes never leaving Bug's face. I recognized the intensity in his gaze—he was searching for deception, analyzing every word and expression for hidden meanings or dangers.
"When Bear bite Bug," Bug continued, touching his shoulder where his claiming mark would be hidden under his oversized shirt, "it not hurt much.
Just pinch! Then everything better. Like puzzle piece click.
" He made a satisfied snapping gesture with his hands.
"Bug know Bear always find. Always protect. Not scary anymore."
Bug's simplified explanation stripped the mate bond down to its essence—protection, belonging, security. His childlike perspective removed any hint of possession or control that might have frightened Liam.
"Bug not belong to Bear," he added, as if sensing Liam's unspoken concern. "Bug and Bear belong together. Different."
Liam blinked, his head tilting slightly as he absorbed this distinction. I saw his fingers brush unconsciously against his own shoulder, the spot where a claiming bite would someday go—if he ever chose to accept it.
Treat cleared his throat softly, drawing our attention. Unlike Bug's animated storytelling, Treat's demeanor was calm and measured, his voice steady as he picked up the narrative thread.
"My experience was a bit different," he said, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from his jeans. "I was running when Butch found me, protecting Doby. I'd been hunted for a long time because of what I am."
He didn't elaborate on his omega status—that explanation could wait for another day.
"I collapsed at Butch's feet, literally," Treat continued with a wry smile. "Wasn't exactly the dignified first meeting most mates dream about. I was terrified, exhausted, and I didn't trust anyone, especially not some massive bear shifter claiming I was his destined mate."
Liam's eyes widened slightly at this admission. Perhaps he'd assumed the others had accepted their mate bonds immediately, without hesitation.
"Butch didn't push," Treat said. "He gave me space, safety, time to heal.
But he was always there, this steady presence I could count on when everything else in my life had been chaos.
" His fingers unconsciously traced the outline of his claiming mark through his shirt.
"When we finally completed the bond, it wasn't about possession.
It was about connection. The bite itself was just..
. a physical manifestation of something that already existed between us. "
He leaned forward, his expression earnest as he addressed Liam directly. "The claiming bite doesn't trap you. It grounds you. I spent years running, always looking over my shoulder. Now I have somewhere—someone—to run to instead of from."
I watched understanding bloom in Liam's eyes, his rigid posture softening almost imperceptibly.
"It's different for everyone," Treat added, glancing at Percy. "Some of us need more time than others. And that's okay."
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Percy, who had remained nearly motionless against the wall. His gaze was fixed on his shoes, arms wrapped around himself in that self-protective gesture he often adopted when uncomfortable.
"You don't have to share if you don't want to," I told him gently.
Percy shook his head, then straightened his shoulders with visible effort. "No. It's important." His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet room, every word was clear. "Liam should hear... all our stories. Not just the easy ones."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "I grew up in a traditional fox skulk. Alpha Biggins—" His voice caught on the name. "He arranged for me to be mated to his son when I was fourteen. Forced mating. I wasn't given a choice."
Liam's entire body had gone rigid, his golden eyes wide with a recognition that made my stomach clench. Whatever Percy was describing, it clearly resonated with something in Liam's past.
"My father helped me escape," Percy continued, "but I spent years believing that's what mating was—something forced on the weak by the strong. When I met Gearhead..." He gave a small, humorless laugh. "I was terrified. Especially when he told me about the claiming bite."
Percy's eyes finally lifted, meeting Liam's directly. "I flinched every time he came near my neck. Panicked if he touched me unexpectedly. The thought of being bitten—being claimed—brought back every nightmare I'd been running from."
Liam nodded, a tiny movement that spoke volumes. Here was someone who understood his fear, who had lived with the same terror.
"Gearhead promised to wait," Percy said. "For as long as I needed. He said we were already mates in every way that mattered—the bite was just a formality. So he waited." His voice dropped even lower. "Six months. He waited six months while I worked through my fear."
Percy's hand moved to his collar, pulling it aside to reveal the edge of a claiming mark on his shoulder. Unlike the shame I might have expected, his expression held nothing but pride. "And when I was finally ready, it felt like coming home. Like the final piece falling into place."
I watched as Liam's eyes locked with Percy's in a moment of profound understanding. Whatever silent communication passed between them in that look, it seemed to reach Liam in a way nothing else had.
"It's not about ownership," Percy concluded simply. "It's about choice. Your choice. On your terms. In your time."
The room fell quiet as his words settled over us. Bug had stopped his rocking, sitting unusually still as he sensed the weight of the moment. Treat watched with quiet approval, his hand resting over his own claiming mark.
"We should go," Percy said finally, pushing himself away from the wall. "Bear said not to stay too long."
Bug bounced to his feet, his solemn mood evaporating as quickly as it had come. "Bug tell Bear about kitten gifts! Bear be happy!"
Treat rose more slowly, gathering himself with his usual composed dignity. "Remember what we said, Liam. Every claiming story is different. Yours will be your own—if and when you decide to write it."
As the three omegas moved toward the door, I stood to see them out, murmuring my thanks for their willingness to share such personal stories.
Bug hugged me impulsively, Treat clasped my shoulder with a knowing smile, and Percy gave me a slight nod that somehow conveyed more understanding than a thousand words could have.
When I turned back from closing the door, I found Liam standing by my bookshelf, his fingers gently touching the gifts he'd arranged there. The stuffed lynx, the handmade quilt, the leather-bound journal—tangible reminders that he belonged here, with us. With me.
I approached slowly, giving him plenty of time to retreat if he wished. But instead of backing away, he turned to face me. For a long moment, he simply stood there, studying my face as if searching for answers to questions he couldn't voice.
Then, with a deliberateness that made my heart ache, he extended his hand toward mine.
The gesture was small but monumental—perhaps the first time he'd initiated contact with anyone in years. His fingers trembled slightly in the space between us, uncertainty warring with determination in his golden eyes.
I kept my movements slow and gentle as I reached to meet him halfway, giving him every opportunity to pull back. When our fingers finally intertwined, the simple touch sent a jolt through me more powerful than any claiming bite could have been.
His golden eyes held mine, asking a question he couldn't speak aloud.
Not whether he would stay—that decision seemed made already.
But whether I truly meant what I'd said, what Percy had confirmed.
Whether I would be patient enough to wait until he was ready—days, months, years, however long it took.
I tightened my fingers around his, careful not to squeeze too hard, just enough to confirm the connection between us. "As long as it takes," I whispered, answering his unspoken question. "We have all the time in the world."
The corner of his mouth lifted in the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from him yet—a tiny, fragile thing, but genuine.
In that moment, I understood what Bug had tried to explain in his simple way: this wasn't about belonging to each other. It was about belonging together.
And for now, that was more than enough.