Jenna's world spun faster. Her sun shown brighter. Her books sat unread. Her story progressed.

The supplies went much faster than she'd planned, but she didn't mind. She'd have given them all for the chance she was receiving. Things had gotten serious. Each day was a dream. She took care of him. She knew his favorite foods, even what he liked to talk about, and it was almost as if she could understand him.

All day long, Jenna spoke with him. Childhood stories. Old jokes. She played him all her favorite songs and danced along, circling him and sashaying across the living room.

He followed her every move, fascinated, fixated, urging her on.

She'd never felt more desired. It was just like Clay and Fern. He'd been injured, and she'd taken him home with her. Granted, Clay had changed back into a man before she could even patch him, but that was fiction. Jenna was sure, in real life, it would be too difficult to change with a gunshot wound.

No. He'd need time to heal, so that was what she did. She healed him. It was her only focus; her only goal. Day after day, she cleaned the wound, checked the stitches and redressed the bandage, and night after night, she laid beside him, dreaming of the day he would be able to hold her.

As the time passed, her dream was slowly realized. First, he was able to lift his head all the way and shift onto his stomach. Lately, he'd even began to walk a bit, if only a few stumbling steps before he'd give up and lay back down. Each time he winced, Jenna felt the pain echo through herself. She hated his suffering. If she could take the wound away from him—absorb it into herself—she would.

When the wound was healed enough to remove the stitches, Jenna realized what a big baby her wolf was. So bad in fact, she had to tie a sheet around his arms and legs to ensure he couldn't move away from her. The wolf hadn't liked that any better than he did her administrations. He whined and growled, voicing his complaints as she gently removed each thread. She laughed. "The worst is over, now, but I'm happy to see you aren't afraid to cry over your boo-boo."

He snapped at her over that comment, which made her laugh harder.

When it was all done and over, she gave him time to calm, removed the restraints, then sat crossed-legged beside him on the floor. "It's all over now," she reassured.

They returned to their new normal; eating, talking, and learning each other. The blizzard had long gone, but the snow up on the mountains was still too deep for a delivery. "I'm all out of meat," she admitted sadly as she offered him the last bit on a plate. "Thankfully, you should be well enough to be back on your feet soon. We'll just have to make due for a little while." He hadn't complained, to which she was grateful. Jenna wasn't a hunter, and even if she was, she doubted she'd find anything in the deep snow outside. "If worse comes to worse, I should be able to get a delivery out in another week or so."

On the three week anniversary of their meeting, Jenna shyly took her spot beside him and held up her favorite book. "This one is my favorite," she admitted, cheeks burning. "Now, more than ever. This is the one I was reading just before I found you." Her stomach churned as if a dozen fish were fighting to swim up into her chest and escape. "I can read you some, if you'd like."

She waited, holding his gaze, wishing he could speak.

After a long silence, Jenna cleared her throat, opened the book to the first page, and reread the pages she'd enjoyed so many times before. It felt different this time—more personal. Her skin grew hotter. Her heart raced faster. All the scenes she'd enjoyed in private left her feeling raw and exposed as she shared them with him. Her wolf's attention never wavered. He stared at her with intense eyes and occasionally licked his jaw.

Then, it came. Her favorite scene. The scene she'd been reading just before she went off to find him. The scene fate had placed before her. Her breaths grew ragged and sharp. Her fingers trembled on the page.

"The steady rhythm of her pulse was too much for him to resist. She was his, and he needed to mark her as so."

The wolf shifted, startling her overly-aware attention. With much effort, he pushed himself up onto unsteady legs, then—torturously slow—moved closer to her.

Jenna couldn't move. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. She remained locked into those golden eyes, entranced, scorched. He melted her from the core outwards, and she could do nothing but burn. It was her dream, her fantasy, finally coming to life. Her forever after was real. He was her forever. She could feel it vibrating through every memory, cell, fiber and atom that made up her being.

His gaze shifted to her neck, and he licked his lips again.

The steady rhythm of her pulse was too much for him to resist. She was his, and he needed to mark her as so.

Jenna leaned back as his paw reached the spot just beside her knee. "I..." she started to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

His lips pulled back, exposing powerful rows of teeth. He would mark her as his. He needed to mark her as his. She'd belong to him forever. He'd be hers for all eternity.

Then, with a snarl, the wolf lunged forward, latching onto the place where Jenna's pulse beat so frantically.

She was his.

Forever.

How much does everyone absolutely hate me? 😂😂💀💀
This whole story started as a sarcastic answer to one of those silly questions asked in the Writers' Group on Facebook. 'Can someone give me an idea for a story about a girl and a wolf?'
I decided to give one completely realistic, vs the millions of already existing werewolf romance cliches. Then, by the time I finished typing out my answer, I wanted to write it out 😂 If anyone wants me to make it up to them, feel free to check out Bayou. I promise, the love interests are real in that one lol