All Chapters of His Fated is the Forbidden Heiress: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The final moments of the transformation hit like a tidal wave. My consciousness fragments, then reforms into something new, a blend of human thought and wolf instinct that feels both foreign and deeply familiar. When the pain finally subsides, I'm looking at the world through entirely different eyes. Everything is sharper, clearer, filled with scents and sounds I never knew existed. I can smell Clint's emotions, his relief, his pride, his desire. I can hear heartbeats from the main house, distinguishing between friend and foe without understanding how I know the difference. I look down at where my hands should be and see paws instead, white paws with hints of silver and gold in the fur. I try to speak Clint's name, and a soft whine emerges instead. "You're beautiful," he whispers, and I fee

I press my muzzle against his chest, needing the comfort of his touch, his scent. He wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my fur. "I'm so sorry I couldn't get here faster," he whispers. "They had the path blocked. I had to fight through three of them." I make a soft whining sound, trying to convey that it's okay, that I understand. Through our bond, I push feelings of reassurance, hoping he can sense them as clearly as I feel his emotions. He pulls back slightly to look at me, his green eyes intense. "You killed him," he says, glancing at the rogue's body. "Your first shift, and you took down a seasoned rogue." There's a note of amazement in his voice. "Do you have any idea how extraordinary that is?" 

"How long will she stay like this?" Mom asks Clint, her voice tight with worry as she kneels beside me, her hand gently stroking my fur. "First shifts usually last several hours," he explains, setting the borrowed clothes on the coffee table. "But Tiffany's different. The dual bloodlines, the mate bond, everything about her is accelerated. It could be minutes or hours." I rest my head on my paws, letting my eyes drift closed as the conversation continues around me. Clint explains more about werewolf physiology to my parents, about how the first shift is always the hardest, how subsequent transformations will become easier and less painful with practice. "And the... the person she..." Dad can't seem to finish the sentence. "The rogue

"For now," I say as Clint helps me to the couch. "But she's going to want answers tomorrow." "We'll figure something out," Dad says, settling into his recliner with a heavy sigh. "Right now, you need to eat and rest." I devour the food with an appetite that surprises even me, barely pausing to chew. The protein helps immediately, giving my exhausted body fuel to continue healing and adjusting to the changes. "Better?" Clint asks, and I realise he's been watching me eat with fascination. "Much." I set the empty plate aside, already feeling more stable. "Though I think I could eat three more servings." He chuckles. "That's normal for the first few

"Stay," I whisper, not ready to break contact yet. "Just a little longer." He settles back against the couch, and I nestle against his side, my head resting on his shoulder. His warmth and scent surround me, calming both my human anxiety and my wolf's restlessness. "What was it like?" I ask softly. "Your first shift?" His fingers trace idle patterns on my arm as he considers the question. "Painful," he says finally. "I was thirteen, early for a male wolf. My father had to chain me down because I fought it so hard." "Thirteen?" I lift my head to look at him. "That's so young." "Alpha bloodlines often shift earlier. It's why I wasn't surprised when yours accelerated." He looks