HIM 30. Mated
She lies down on some blankets on the ground, turning her back to us. I watch her, knowing she isn't asleep yet, but eventually her breathing calms and her heartbeat finally settles into a steady rhythm.
She's always afraid and nervous, her heartbeat racing constantly. I don't think I've heard her heart beat normally since I met her. She's becoming more confident, but I sense her insecurities, sometimes making it difficult for her to breathe.
I glance at the wolf again, almost finished patching him up. To my surprise, he doesn't comment on my obvious concern for her. He simply looks at me and shakes his head slightly, showing his distaste for my choice.
As if I had a choice.
Our eyes meet, and I notice his are almost turning white now—for wolves, a sign of weakness.
Wolves have different eye colors depending on the situation.
His eyes might be almost colored white, but his gaze remains strong.
I have no idea where he got all these other injuries—the old wounds I'm patching up now that have nothing to do with our fight.
But I can tell his will remains unbroken.There's something about the way he holds himself, even injured and beaten down. He's a leader. It radiates from him, even though he might not realize it yet.
Some wolves are born leaders; others learn to become one. But this wolf is strong. Despite his injuries, he fought me with everything he had left, and even after that, never submitted to me.
Just like my Communicator. She always tried to find compromise, but she never submitted.
My wolf stirs at the comparison, a low rumble of approval in my chest. He likes that about her—the fight in her, the refusal to break. Even if she doesn't have claws or fangs, she has that same stubborn strength.
"You know, in my whole life, I've never seen eyes turn blue," he whispers, pulling me from my thoughts. At first I don't answer, just finish my work on him before walking to her side and sitting down beside her.
He follows my movements, watching every step I take.
"Well, now you have."
He huffs at my words.
"I thought the mating bond was just one of those foolish stories they told us when we were children."
Mating bond. It's the first time someone has spoken it aloud.
The words hang in the air between us. I should be denying it, fighting against it. Part of me wants to. But hearing it said out loud, I can't. My wolf settles at the words, like something clicking into place. It's true, and we both know it.
"Well, as you can see, it's not."
He looks at me. "You're taking it exceptionally well," he comments.
"What do you expect? It's not relevant." Not like I'm ever going to tell her anyway.
She doesn't need to know what this bond means, what it's doing to me. She's already scared enough, always on edge. The last thing I want is to make her feel trapped or uncomfortable because of something she never asked for.
He shakes his head again. "If the stories are true, it's going to matter more than anything else in your life. I'm just disappointed that a powerful wolf like you could bond to this weak human."
Immediately, I feel the urge to fight him again, to defend her, but I calm myself, consciously trying to relax my muscles one by one.
"She isn't weak anymore," I tell him, looking him straight in the eyes. The rest goes unsaid, but we both know what the bond means. She owns me now in a way.
She just doesn't know it yet.
"Does it truly feel like that?" he asks, and for the first time, I can hear genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Yes, it does." I know exactly when something snapped inside me, pulling me toward her, connecting and tethering me to her heart. Everything changed after that.
The eye color is just a nuisance, but the rest—well, let's just say it's a huge inconvenience. I can no longer make decisions only for my pack; I must also consider her. It's almost like physical pain, seeing her hurt or sad.
My wolf hates it. He actually acts out so much that I have to keep my power in check constantly, fighting against releasing something uncontrollable. Something driven only by feelings.
The stories say you can be mated without feeling attracted to your mate. That it's just a bond, a connection of souls or whatever.
But that's not what this is.
Every time I look at her, I want her. Not just want—need. It's like being hungry all the time, this constant pull toward her.
The way she moves, the way she breathes, everything about her draws me in.
But I won't touch her, not unless she asks for it. She has to ask. Has to want it. I've seen how she flinches, how she startles at sudden movements. She's getting more comfortable around me, sure, but I can still feel those insecurities, still see her hesitate.
That's not enough. Not even close. The last thing I want is to see fear in her eyes when she looks at me.