First Touch Part 3

"Here," I said, stopping before an ornate door that gleamed with fresh polish. "These will be your chambers."

Your chambers. The words felt like a lie even as I spoke them. Because in my mind, these weren't guest quarters or temporary accommodation. They were her rooms in our home, the space where she would sleep and wake and slowly come to understand that she belonged here.

I reached past her to open the door, and the movement brought me close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Close enough that her scent filled my senses completely, making the wolf pace with barely contained hunger.

So close, it whispered. Just lower your head, press your face to her throat, breathe her in properly.

The urge was almost overwhelming. She smelled like everything I'd been missing, everything I'd been denied during decades of isolation. Like home and comfort and the possibility of finally, finally not being alone.

But more than that, she smelled like mine.

"It's beautiful," Catherine said softly, stepping into the suite of rooms I'd had prepared for her arrival.

I'd spared no expense—silk hangings in deep blue that complemented her coloring, furniture that had been crafted by masters centuries dead, windows that overlooked the rose gardens I tended with my own hands. Everything designed to welcome, to comfort, to make her feel valued rather than imprisoned.

To make her want to stay.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval," I said, following her into the sitting room. "If anything is lacking, you need only ask."

Anything. Books, music, clothes, jewelry—whatever her heart desired, I would provide. I had the resources of centuries at my disposal, wealth that could purchase comfort beyond imagining.

But what I wanted to give her couldn't be bought. What I wanted was her trust, her acceptance, eventually her love. The kind of freely given affection that might have the power to break curses and restore what had been lost.

She moved through the rooms with careful grace, examining details that spoke of the care I'd taken in their preparation. Her fingers trailed over silk upholstery, fine woodwork, the leather bindings of books I'd selected specifically for her education and interests.

She's pleased, I realized with satisfaction. Surprised, perhaps, by the luxury, but pleased nonetheless.

"This is... generous," she said finally, turning to face me across the expanse of the sitting room. "More than generous. I'm not certain what I've done to deserve such consideration."

You exist, I wanted to say. You're here, you're real, you're everything I've been waiting for without knowing I was waiting.

"You've left everything familiar to honor your family's obligations," I said instead. "That deserves recognition."

Honor your family's obligations. Such a diplomatic way to describe being traded like currency to settle debts. But Catherine seemed to appreciate the courtesy, the way I was choosing to frame her situation in terms of duty rather than desperation.

"Still," she said, "this seems... excessive for what amounts to companionship."

Companionship. The word hung between us like a challenge, loaded with implications neither of us was quite ready to address directly. Because we both knew this arrangement went deeper than simple conversation and shared meals.

"I've been alone for a very long time," I said quietly. "Perhaps I've forgotten the appropriate scale of... appreciation for human company."

Alone for a very long time. Twenty-seven years, to be precise. Twenty-seven years of isolation broken only by the pack bonds that connected me to creatures who shared my curse but couldn't fill the void where human connection should have lived.

She studied my face with unsettling perception, as if she could read truths I wasn't ready to voice. "How long?" she asked softly.

Since before you were born, I thought. Since before your parents met, since before your grandparents drew breath.

"Long enough to value what I've been missing," I said instead.

Something shifted in her expression then—a softening that might have been sympathy or understanding or simply the recognition of shared loneliness. Because she'd been isolated too, in her own way. Cut off from her former life by financial ruin, separated from friends by circumstances beyond her control.

We're both refugees, I realized. Both seeking something we've lost.

The insight created an unexpected moment of connection, a bridge across the gulf of supernatural secrets and unspoken arrangements. For just an instant, we were simply two people who'd found themselves thrown together by forces beyond their control.

Then she swayed again, fatigue finally overwhelming her determination to maintain composure, and instinct overrode everything else.

I caught her before she could fall, my hands closing around her waist with careful strength. The contact sent fire racing through my veins—her warmth, her softness, the way she fit against my palms as if she'd been made for my touch.

Perfect, the wolf sighed. She's absolutely perfect.

But it was more than physical compatibility that made holding her feel like coming home. It was the way she didn't immediately pull away, the way her breathing seemed to settle when I touched her, the complete absence of the fear I'd expected her to show.

She trusts me, I realized with wonder. Impossibly, inexplicably, she trusts me.

The heat of her skin was almost unbearable—not just temperature, but the sheer life and vitality that radiated from her like sunlight. My hands wanted to explore, to map every curve and hollow, to discover all the ways she was different from the cold solitude I'd known for so long.

Mine, the wolf whispered urgently. Mark her. Claim her. Make sure she understands what she is to us.

The urge was overwhelming—to press my face to her throat, to scent-mark her with my presence, to leave no doubt about who she belonged to now. My control wavered, claws threatening to push through human fingernails as the beast surged closer to the surface.

Control, I reminded myself desperately. She's not ready for that revelation.

But holding her, feeling her pulse race beneath my hands, breathing in her intoxicating scent—it was testing every limit I possessed.

I forced myself to step back before I could do something that would terrify her, though my hands lingered at her waist for perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary.

"Rest," I said, my voice rougher than I'd intended. "Dinner will be served in a few hours."

Rest, while I fought to regain control over instincts that wanted to claim what was mine by right of prophecy and desperate need.

But as I moved toward the door, the claws I'd been fighting finally pushed through, just for an instant, before I managed to force them back beneath human skin.

Soon, the wolf promised. Soon she'll understand what she truly is to us.

Soon she'll be ours completely.