Page 34 of Love, Clumsily
And then I saw him.
Mason emerged from the trees, but not the Mason I knew. This wolf was larger, wilder, more primal than the one I’d seen during full moons with the pack. His fur was midnight black, bristling along his spine, his shoulders massive and powerful. But it was his eyes that captured me—golden, glowing in the twilight, fixed on me with an intensity that stole my breath.
He paused at the edge of the clearing, watching me, his posture alert but not threatening. I could see the muscles rippling beneath his fur as he held himself in check, waiting for my reaction.
“Mason,” I said softly, knowing he could hear me perfectly. “You’re beautiful.”
His ears pricked forward, head tilting slightly in a gesture so canine it almost made me smile despite the tension of the moment.
“Can you come closer?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even. “Slowly, so I can see you better.”
He hesitated, then began to approach, each step deliberate and measured. As he drew nearer, I could appreciate just how large he was in this form—easily reaching my chest if he stood on his hind legs, his paws the size of my spread hand.
He stopped about ten feet away, still watching me intently, nostrils flaring as he scented the air between us.
“This is what you were afraid to show me?” I asked, keeping my tone conversational. “This is what you thought would send me running?”
A low rumble came from his chest—not quite a growl, more like a questioning sound.
“You’re magnificent,” I told him honestly. “Powerful, yes. Dangerous, maybe. But still you, Mason. Still my mate.”
The word ‘mate’ triggered a visible reaction—a slight softening of his posture, a deepening of that rumbling sound. Hetook another step closer, then another, until he was just a few feet away.
“Can I touch you?” I asked, remembering his rule about not moving from my spot.
He seemed to consider the question, then moved forward until he was directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Slowly, telegraphing my movements, I extended my hand, palm up, offering rather than reaching. He watched my hand, then looked at my face, as if gauging my sincerity.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “I’m not afraid.”
And I wasn’t. Despite the wildness before me, despite the gleaming teeth and powerful jaws that could end me in seconds, I felt no fear. This was Mason—my Mason—in his truest form.
With a deliberate movement, he lowered his head and pressed his muzzle into my palm. The fur was softer than I expected, the nose cool and wet against my skin. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“See?” I said softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
Emboldened by his acceptance, I reached with my other hand to stroke the thick fur of his neck. He allowed this, leaning slightly into my touch in a way that was achingly familiar despite his altered form.
We stayed like that for several minutes—me sitting on the log, gently petting him, him standing patient under my hands. The tension gradually drained from his posture, replaced by something almost like contentment.
“This is what you’ve been hiding from me,” I said, my fingers tracing the contours of his lupine face. “This wildness, this power. But it’s not something to fear, Mason. It’s something to embrace. It’s part of what makes you, you.”
His eyes, still fixed on my face, seemed to hold a depth of understanding that transcended his animal form. He made asoft sound, almost a whine, and pressed closer, his massive head now resting against my knee.
“I love all of you,” I continued, needing him to understand. “The human and the wolf. The gentle and the wild. I chose you—all of you—with open eyes and an open heart.”
He shifted position, moving to sit beside the log, his warm bulk pressing against my legs. It was a protective posture, possessive but not threatening. I continued to stroke his fur, marveling at the surreal nature of the moment—having a heart-to-heart conversation with my boyfriend while he was in wolf form.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him firmly. “No matter how many scratches, no matter how many full moons, no matter how wild you get. I’m yours, and you’re mine. That’s not negotiable.”
He made that rumbling sound again, deeper this time, and I felt it vibrate through me where our bodies touched. Then, with a movement that surprised me, he stood and backed away several paces.
For a moment, I thought I’d said something wrong. Then I realized what was happening—he was going to shift back. I braced myself, remembering the sounds I’d heard earlier.
But instead of retreating into the trees as he had before, Mason remained in the clearing, watching me with those intelligent golden eyes. A question, I realized. He was asking permission to shift in front of me.
“It’s okay,” I said, understanding his intent. “I want to see. All of you, remember?”
