Page 97 of Knotting the Firefighters
Or not wait—doesn't matter anymore.
Because I'm not going.
Not leaving.
Not abandoning the woman who just claimed me in the most fundamental way possible.
My last conscious thought before sleep claims me completely is profound gratitude—not for the bond itself, though that's miraculous, but for the clarity it provides. No more agonizing over decisions, no more weighing impossible choices, no more torture of trying to determine which dream matters more.
She matters more.
Always has.
Just needed a biological imperative to override my stubborn insistence on maintaining independence.
Darkness pulls me under with gentle insistence, exhaustion finally winning the battle it's been waging since dawn. Aidric's voice fades completely, phone forgotten on sheets beside me, the world narrowing to just three things:
Wendy's weight against my chest.
Her heartbeat was steady against mine.
The bond humming between us like a live wire, permanent and irreversible.
My Omega.
My Wendolyn.
The possessive terminology doesn't feel presumptuous anymore—feels accurate, feels right, feels like truth I've been avoiding acknowledging until biology forced my hand.
Mine.
Forever mine.
Bonded, claimed, permanently connected in ways I don't fully understand but absolutely recognize as correct.
Sleep claims me completely, pulling me into darkness where dreams mix with reality, where relief outweighs confusion, where the future suddenly looks entirely different from what I'd been imagining.
My Wendolyn.
The words echo through fading consciousness like a mantra, promise, vow I'm making to a woman who can't hear but will understand when she wakes.
Wendolyn's bonded mate.
Her Alpha.
Her choice, her claim, her permanent connection.
The distinction matters—transforms identity from individual achievement to partnership, from solo ambition to shared future, from independence to belonging.
And I wouldn't change it.
Wouldn't undo what just happened even if I could.
Because she's worth more than any position, any badge, any professional recognition.
She's worth everything.
The woman who marked me, claimed me, made me hers while simultaneously becoming mine, in exchange that feels perfectly balanced, utterly right, fundamentally correct.
