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jjungkooksthighs · 21 days ago

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (17)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 10.6k (Listen we don't have consistency here but we do have quality alr)

Summary:

With his mate in his arms, the Pack Alpha brings her home.

Warnings: MINOR CHARACTER DEATH (parents), mentions of taking one's life (I promise most of this is fluff and fun), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, marking, manhandling, omega in heat

Author's Note: Hello again, lovelies! I apparently am really bad at following schedules if you didn't notice, so I apologize (again) for really long periods between updates on this story. Rest assured that the next chapter will be the long awaited mating between our two soulmates, which will be the final installment to this saga that I have now been writing for five years.

Crazy how fast time flies.

Anyway, I felt like it had been too long since the last update to just...have them go at it in this one. I had had plans to make this shorter, but somehow 20 pages were written between this week and last and...yeah. Here we are.

I dedicate this chapter to @h-g-bts and @jeonwiixard, because without your support, encourage, and love, this chapter would never have happened. I have never seen such contagious enthusiasm and excitement that you two always are jumping at the chance to share with me, and I adore you two for all of the wonderful rambles we have about this story amidst all of our other shenanigans.

I hope that those who read this chapter–especially you two– enjoy it to the fullest. I always worry I won't do justice to the ideas in my head or even to the existing story I've written, so please share your thoughts and love for this story if you like it. I have discovered that I write faster if I am inundated with praise and love for my work. :)

That's enough from me for now. I now give to you the seventeenth chapter of COC!

Series Masterlist Previous Chapter

The scraunch of grass under his feet surrenders to the steady song of your heart while he carries you, your smaller form tucked snugly against his chest while you sleep peacefully in his arms.

Slumber had welcomed you happily after you’d lost so much blood to the beast of greed that lived inside him, and as his still human body moves on instinct through the night with the moon as his witness, that beast only clutches closer at the covetousness of his savior–of this mortal goddess– who had come to save him.

Many still had been milling about when he’d departed with her from the bathhouse, the interested eyes and ears of alphas and omegas alike all trying to confirm the undeniable truth of his choice in you and yours in him.

That he had been awake and of the conscious world astounded them enough as he’d walked through them, their widened eyes and gasps enough to indicate that. The irrefutable proof of your maturing bond was present in the serene, calm expression that the beautiful creature held against him had amidst the two new reddened, raised punctures he’d left on her wrist that fell gracefully by his side while he, who should have been without operation of one arm and restricted to a bed, was well and amble.

Namjoon had been there, Yoongi’s dried blood still dirtying hands and arms, but his loyalty to his alpha–his friend– mattered more than any odorous stench that Yoongi the deceiver could concoct.

He’d shared one look with Namjoon, and it was one that needed no words between it. There had been a silent nod from his second-in-command, a lowering of his chin out of respect for his strength in combat before his fist had come upon his left breast in a sign of acceptance and recognition for the choice his Pack Alpha had made in his chosen mate, and the action had brought with it the parroting of all males–all alphas–who had been in the audience.

Not one male failed to mimic the action, the Pack Alpha’s absence of injuries and state of near death that he had administered to his enemies all that they needed to recall.

Seokjin, a taller male who just managed to reach Namjoon’s high height, had been standing dutifully by the other male’s side, the reaction of his mate one echoed in sentiment as he’d crossed each of his hands over each other between both breasts and bowed, the gesture one of approval and approbation of she who would become highest in rank and power over all omegas; of she who would lead them and guide the Omegean dynamic–of she who would become the Pack Omega.

Niva, a long-time companion of yours who was a rather short woman, had mirrored the motion with tears in her eyes out of the happiness she felt for the female that the Pack Alpha held with such affection lighting the golden discs of his own as he stared warmly at her, not a fractal of the cold from before when he’d been in the ring with the males who tried to win her from him.

Deference to them both had had each wolf stepping aside like parting ferns as the Pack Alpha had stepped between them, the dense cluster of all wolves in the compound bending to their knee as he passed.

No one had asked where he was going. Such was common knowledge– the only thing left now was to seal the bond between two fated souls and fulfill the vow he had made to you in the remnants of their shared blood that had been left clinging to your flesh.

In the present, he proceeds with purpose through the forest, your soft breaths coaxing him toward his destination amidst the symphony of crickets chirping in celebration and owls calling excitedly to each other while the flowers and fallen leaves offer their embrace in support to his ankles as he steps through them.

It is impossible not to let the music of nature return him to when he’d first heard it years ago, when he’d first stepped foot in the greenery of the woodland.

He had been in a much smaller body, his paws much tinier while he’d been running through the forest, his father’s stern, unamused shouts lost to him while the colors of the earth ran past him in streaks of brown, black, and green.

There had been a wonderful, pleasurable burn in his lungs while he’d pushed his haunches to keep going, to dash to freedom from the asphyxiating restrictions of training for responsibilities he had no concept of yet, the wind racing through his fur and whistling through his ears while his claws upended the soil in clouds of dark plumes as they raked through it.

He’d not known where he was going–only that he was chasing something he could never reach, no matter how hard he tried.

Inevitably, his little furry body could only handle so much, and upon slowing to a stop in the middle of a clearing that held its own town of daffodils, lilies, roses, wisteria, gardenia, marigold, and tulips, each swaying with the wind he’d brought with him. The myriad of colors had been pleasing to his eye, and when he’d let their vibrant scents blossom under his nose, their coalescence had been an aroma sweeter than the finest sugar.

But then…then he’d heard a voice, a voice that was daintier than any flower. A voice that harvested something in him he’d not known a name for yet.

Curiosity had carried him toward the origin of that voice, his wolf refusing to ignore the soft melody as it sang a nursery tale of two lost souls helplessly drawn to each other no matter how many times the earth tried to tear them apart.

“Alone he ran, alone he remained, seeking that which was forbidden-”

He had been quiet as a mouse while he neared the curtain of vines and climbing plants that had grown along the expanse of the rocky wall toward the forest’s edge, the voice that reached for him behind it too pretty to resist. He’d never ventured here thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything behind it. And yet…

“Forbidden it was, he longed for respite from the rivalries and revelries that were but a curse of his kin-”

His paws drew him forward, the clink of his claws against the rock drowned by the spring ahead of him, the crystalline water that streamed over the larger slabs of rock each stacked around each other enough to silence it to the female who stood on two hairless legs with her back to him in the watery pool ahead of them that was deep enough to cover her to the waist. On the other side of the rocks there fell clear water from one pool to another, a smaller pond sat surrounded by smaller stones of colors he had no names for in their darker and lighter hues.

“Onward he journeyed toward the unknown who took a form fascinating to him, a form of long, flowing hair and kind, gentle orbs for eyes that the moon sculpted after herself in their color. For the moon had longed for many years to bring forth a child of flesh and blood as she grew lonely in the dark skies after mother nature had birthed her own child of hair and blood -”

Like invisible force had been urging him on, he continued, helpless to the pull that began from his heart and tugged him toward this fair creature who wore but a frock that was a halo of gilded white, silver, and gold around her in its long length and trailing sleeves that left a high neckline across her front and back.

She floated there, in the middle of the water, as she moved with a grace no ordinary child could ever hope to have with a tune only she could hear. Transfixed, he could not force himself to look away if he tried. He had to know who this goddess with a voice light as the stars was.

“She wept, and she wept, and she wept in her solitude, and from those tears that fell to the earth, she molded her daughter from mist, cloud, stars, and her light. From the earth there came her offspring who was molded into a girl with all of the knowledge poured into her from her mother, her body no younger than eight winters, but no older than ten-”

Something deep in his chest had begun to pound at that sight, and when the young girl before him turned toward him in a sweep of her arms through the air, that had been when he’d been unable to move any longer, amazement forcing the oxygen from his lungs as he’d beheld her.

Her beautiful hair, which flowed with the wind that breezed through it, had been bound only by the gardenias that had been strewn down its wisps framing a face that was unlike anything he’d ever gazed upon before. Her cheekbones were high, nose straighter than a line yet cuter than any button, her lips pink as any chrysanthemum. And her eyes? They were closed while she was lost to the words she spoke.

“With no one but herself in the world, the moon’s daughter cried and wept, her own loneliness a curse even her own mother could not make her forget from so high a place in the sky’s throne. The earth took pity on the young girl of flesh and bone, so it sent her its son, who was of the same time on land. The two, recognizing kindred spirits in one another, were inseparable-”

As if his limbs had been captured by whatever had begun to wind him around this goddess’s hand, his haunches lowered so he sat on the rock by the creek, his shadow reaching toward the girl in the water before him.

“The earth’s son and moon’s daughter spent many moons together, their hearts irrevocably becoming entwined in the other’s, and upon their eighteenth winter together, the earth became jealous of her son, wishing with her entire being that she could reach her lover that the clouds kept imprisoned within them yet never being able to except for when the skies cried, releasing him so he could be with his lover.”

The birds had stopped chirping as she’d turned her face down toward her feet, the darkness claiming her features so he could no longer admire them while sadness clogged her throat and watered tears from the corner of her eyes that remained closed to him.

Though he had heard the tale uttered from many mothers before, somehow, when this creature before him chanted it, it struck the chords of something he would not know a name for for many years after. He’d never really listened nor cared for it before. Not until now. Not until this female who breathed every syllable with emotion that none had mustered before.

“The earth became vengeful watching her son love the woman that he took for his one and only love, so she trapped him, just as her own lover had been, deep within the confines of rock and soil. The daughter of the moon, just like her mother, wept, wept, and wept for the other half of her heart that she had given to her lover, and the moon, out of love for her daughter, begged the skies to release to the earth her beloved.”

The goddess in white had raised her hands toward the large orb in the sky almost as if to welcome its pain.

Why he had felt a need to rid her of it before it could reach her, he didn’t know. All that he did know was that the very thought of her receiving any harm, of something swallowing away her radiance, was unbearable, his chest panging at the idea of her light being snuffed out. Watching and listening to her…it was like stepping into a sea of warmth and luminescence, the darkness of everything else falling away into nothingness.

“Disgusted at the earth’s selfishness, the sky refused, but the moon begged, the sad tears and pained wails of her daughter over her lover’s absence making her mother sad and doleful. Her daughter’s siblings in the sky grew dim in their own pity for their sister, and too did their mother. The tides began to become restless, the seasons did not obey their call, and darkness began to eat away at the mother of the daughter who roamed restlessly, longingly, and devotedly in her search for her other half.”

Like the tide, the girl let her body sway with the water’s ripples as she spun around on her heels thrice, each rotation bringing her closer to him and yet, not close enough.

“Unable to cage the chaos that had taken hold of her body, the earth asked the moon to share her light with the world once more, but she could not. Not until her daughter’s lover had been returned to her. The skies, seeing that the world would soon turn to ruin, decided to offer a bargain: The earth’s beloved would be granted to her only during the rain showers of the skies tears that the moon would permit, and in return, the earth would relinquish her son to one who truly cared for him.”

The deity in front of him, unseeing of the world around him and now at the water’s edge, let her hands fall back to her sides until the cloth of her trailing, billowing sleeves covered them from sight once more. The darkness had receded to only one side of her face, the other receiving the tender light of the moon.

The wind blew gently around them, his scent continually swept away by it so that he could remain undetected by her even in this close vicinity.

“The earth accepted, but not before the daughter of the moon had collapsed from exhaustion on the ground before the cave that mother nature, the earth, had trapped the one she’d been searching for in. The daughter of the moon’s body had grown weak, the life inside it that they had made together stealing what little of her energy remained.”

His heart now hammering in his chest at her closeness, he could only hold his breath as he watched her, mesmerized by the ethereal glow that seemed to shine underneath her rosy cheeks.

“The earth’s son revoked his mother upon seeing the shaking shell of his lover, and on his back he carried her to the highest mountain before the widest plane where even the clouds shielded him from his mother’s vengeful eyes. There, the moon and sun fashioned a healing tonic flowing from the sun’s rays themselves, and with it, the son of the earth nursed his love back to health, their child soon born days later.”

As if the goddess before him could sense him, she delicately fell to her knees, hands folding in her lap as her chin rose toward the sky with eyes that still did not see nature before her. Had it not been for the cascading water from the little waterfall behind her, there is no way she would have missed the thundering whims of the muscle nestled under his ribs.

“The earth was resentful, and so she too became pregnant with more like her son when her lover was released to her through the rain. To her three sons came, each growing faster with the meats she fed them, and it was not long before they were sent to end the life of her first-born, each of them deformed by their hatred with a mind bent on revenge and wishing to rid their brother of his son and take what he held dearest–his beloved bride– for themselves. None were successful, but the largest of these monsters, after 10,001 nights, nearly was.”

She had paused, a silver streak of wetness falling down her cheek. An irrational desire to wipe it away had been quick to take him, his paw reaching out toward her. That tear did not belong here. Before he could make it there, the female who had sat on her knees only inches from him used her sleeve to clear it away, yet the redness around her eyes lingered as more tears fell and her chant descended in its lovely pitch almost as if life itself had been fading away from her.

“His brothers had wounded him, scarred him, hurt him in their many battles of blood, but the second eldest had been cunning. He’d waited until the female who had mated the eldest had gone into heat, her vulnerable state easy to trick her in when he’d covered himself in the blood of her mate. It had been easy to capture her and secure her to the nearest boulder at the cliff’s edge while he’d waited for her mate to return, and upon seeing her wrists and feet bound and their only son dead at her feet while the young pup’s lifeless heart was in the maw of his brother, he’d seen red, the thunder piercing air while rain had pelted them hard as lightning flashed.”

Each word had stirred a hole inside him that could not be filled except with the mellifluous sound of her voice, its mournful melody making him lower his own head in how heavy it suddenly felt. Her own hands had since opened and turned upward, palms facing upward as if to beseech something–anything– to comfort her. Again his paw had moved of its own accord, pads of them just a hair’s length above hers.

“Taking advantage of his brother’s anger, the second-eldest had almost managed to rip his brother’s head from his shoulders–if not for the moon’s daughter, who had seen through the second-eldest’s plans and warned him before it was too late. As a strike of lightning that had arced across the sky, the first son of the earth blinded the second-eldest with his claws before tearing his jawbone off of him and sending him howling off of the cliff to his death. This was not before he himself had been fatally injured, his brother’s teeth sinking deep into his nape and skull. Just enough strength he had had to loose the bindings on his lover before collapsing on the ground next to their lifeless son, his life draining away from him with the river of blood he lost.”

The female in white paused, shaking her head as if trying to will the image of it away, and her brows had reached toward each other as if to seek comfort while her small fingers had curled in on themselves. Still he holds his paw above hers, fearing that if he touches her, the trance will be broken. That this moment of respite he had found in this alluring creature that unknowingly welcomed him as her listener will come to an abrupt end.

When she had spoken again, there, in the back of each word, had been the inklings of hope, of the same brilliance she seemed to shine with under each of those long lashes of hers.

“The moon and sun, having observed the wicked earth from above, took pity on the sky-shattering screams of the lone female that had been left behind, her beloved’s dying breath that he wished he could have held her in his arms one more time while he told her that his love for her would never die. The moon and sun took pity on the two, reshaping and reforming their bodies yet housing their souls in them just the same, bestowing upon the lone female a gift– the gift to heal and restore with the same lips that had drank the life-giving tonic her beloved had fed to her through his kiss.”

Somehow, the tale had elicited images–remnants of another time– that he’d never thought about before. It was like uncovering something long buried, but it was fleeting. Gone before he could really process it as it buried itself again in the dirt of memory he would not recall for many years later. And in the face of her staggering divine beauty that no other girl her age should have possessed, it was easy to forget.

“The two found themselves together in each other’s arms in bodies that were of human craft, the ability to shift from their previous lupine,werewolf self to that of a human bestowed to them by the mercy of the gods above who soon created their likenesses, in different forms, sizes, and shapes, and populated the earth with them. Mother Nature corrupted some, but not all, and those that were not corrupted followed the first-born son of earth and the daughter of the moon, who mourned the loss of their son every moon until they were blessed with another, many moons later.”

Their shadows, now one, had melded together while she had sung the words as if they were a blessing. She had been at peace in the finality of the tale, her brows releasing from the tense position they’d been in, and where her lips had thinned where she had pulled them together, they had parted in their fullness, a strange impulse to touch where she had spoken so charmingly from fixing itself in him.

“Such is the tale of the Lupine Antiquis, the first of our kind. They were each other's heart and soul–fated by the moon and sun– by our gods above. May their tale always bring light in the darkness of lone wanderers in the night.”

Such ethereal sounds departed her lips that she breathed such life into, and he’d been so sure he had been enchanted by them, by her, his paw summoned by them to hers in the urge to dispel her own loneliness that loomed behind her like a penumbra even through all the luminousness of the moon’s silvery streams around them from the moon above.

The moment they’d touched, her eyes had opened, a look of surprise slowly transforming her once serene, relaxed features while he stared, drawn hopelessly to the glimmering, shining rings of silver that orbited her orbs for eyes. They were brilliant–she was brilliant– and instantly he had felt gravity somewhere in his chest shift, something flipping and turning upside down while he’d continued to gape, pulled immediately into the infinite space of compassion and curiosity that coursed through each of her eyes.

“Who…who are you? How did you find me?” She had asked the words so entreatingly, no inkling of fear in them. Even her questions compelled him to answer, for the young wolf deep inside him wanted her to hear him, to see him, to know him.

It had been that creature inside him that had made his bones move and change him from waist to head, his black fur falling away from him hair by hair while the young maiden’s eyes had widened larger than any planetary system.

“My name,” he had found himself answering honestly, “is Jungkook. I was wandering through the forest. I heard you singing.”

For no one else had he ever spoken so openly. There were few with whom his father would allow him to talk to, but this female… he felt like the walls he’d been taught to put up crumbled to mere specks under the endless expanse of her gentle gaze.

“You are,” she started in astonishment, “a boy. I’ve never met a boy before.”

Where his black paw had been resting over her upturned hands in her lap, there had since morphed from it a human hand, his baser being wanting–needing– a connection that he could not explain.

“Is that because you are a goddess sent from the stars?” The question had come out before his mind had even caught up with his lips, and the most ariose music of laughter that he’d ever heard had been performed for him by the female whose eyes had shone brighter than any light above them.

“I am mortal, Jungkook of the Forest. Why do you ask me this?” There was a soft rhythm even in her small movements, each of the pads of her fingertips tapping at his as if to tune her understanding of him into her mind.

There had been no hesitance in his answer, the song of her word and instrument of her beauty easily moving him.

“No siren nor angel has a voice like yours. No witch could harness the moon and shower themselves in its dust and light as you shine with its favor.” He had let her experimentally turn his hand over in her lap, both of her hands taking his between them and holding him there while he let his tongue loose the thoughts that made his heart race like an imp under his ribs at her touch that felt so impossibly right when he knew it shouldn’t have. “You sing of lone wanderers and finding someone that will end the torment of that inescapable loneliness when you are alone here–under the moon–in the middle of night. Like a fallen goddess.”

She had gone still under the staggering admissions of the boy from the wood, for he had seen in seconds what no other had.

That she was lonely. That she was searching for the end of that horrid, cold hell.

And the hand she held between hers? Not even the sun could burn that away, but his…it did. Somehow, holding him was like touching the purest of summer rays. It was… it was wonderful.

Perhaps that was why her own answer had spilled from her mouth to his eager ears. “No one that knows my name calls me by that term, Jungkook of the Wood. But you have earned a favor because of your perceptive eyes that have seen more to me than even those who birthed me are willing to acknowledge. Name it, and it will be yours.”

Greed had not been a concept known to him yet. But when he looked at her, its wings had unfurled, the promise of more making his hopes high and a selfish need soar.

He had to see her again. Had to hear her sweet voice again. Had to have her nearby and around him again.

In his mind, the subtle, dainty movements of a dance she’d done for the silver disk hanging above them had played, the shadings of his desire forming.

“I would ask that you grant my wish to meet here, in this creek, when the moon is full just as it is now.”

A smile had bounded across her lips, and she’d giggled to herself at his rather demanding request,“You are a strange boy to ask for my presence alone. Still,” she closed her eyes, cupping his hand in both of her own before bringing it against her chest where her heart kept trying to leap toward him. ”Let this be my promise to you, then, Jungkook of the Wood. We shall meet here, with the moon as our witness, when she is full on a night like this one. Allow me to sing for you to seal this vow.”

As if the atmosphere itself wanted to be her orchestra, the wind shook the branches and leaves, their chimes the perfect backdrop for the springing water behind and around them as she chanted to the gods in bits and pieces of a language not yet mastered, yet one that had been largely lost to time’s hand.

He had not understood a word of it, but somehow, her euphonious crescendos and trills that carried through the air like a feather had been enough to lull him into a most peaceful sleep after they’d both lain down beside each other along the soft bed of grass by the creek.

Dreams of her frolicking through a field of wheat with him tailing behind her while she’d had an angelic, carefree smile on her face were all that found him that night. And many, many after.

When he’d woken, the goddess he had been sure he’d met had disappeared, the only trace of her left behind in his hand being two gardenias that looked as if they’d been frozen in time at the pinnacle of their bloom.

Just as she had promised, she had found him in their meeting place under the mother of the stars when she became full. The female’s luminous laughter joined with his on those nights when he made it his mission to show her the joys of childhood that adults could never understand.

From the games of tag to making dandelions fly, their exploits were as infinite as the sky above, and inevitably, the sun would steal away the night–and her– from him when she would sing him to sleep with her dulcet songs while she stroked his hair from where his head had rested atop her lap from where she sat by the creek after they’d exchanged stories only innocence could conjure.

Each meeting brought them closer, an unexplainable union forging between two souls so alone yet so yearning for a companion that they were soon not willing to be apart from each other without their dreams interfering.

Years passed, but one cold, dark winter night, she did not appear to him again.

Devastation had stolen his joy from him, and for many moons he visited that creek, hoping that he would encounter his goddess once again.

When it became clear to him that his son had been afflicted by a sickness of the heart, his father had forced him out of the forest and down to the milling compound of wood and wolves like him for a supply drop at the forge that his father alone manned and trained him the arts of metal, crafting, and woodworking in. He hadn’t wanted to go, the little muscle in his chest aching and hurting as if stuck with thousands of needles in the absence of the goddess-turned-muse that he’d found in the wood.

He’d hardly been there a minute before he’d meandered from his father’s side, his nose catching a whiff of a pleasant, heavenly scent he had come to have a liking for where everything else was wretched and disgusting.

There, laying in the middle of a flowery field with an aged leather tome far too big for her hands, sat the figure of the only girl who could harness his attention to her. He’d called out to her instantly, but when she turned to him, the eyes that once looked at him like he was something so special had changed to ones of unfamiliarity. She’d cocked her head curiously at him, her usual light there in her orbs, but it was as if the lack of recognition refracted the usual rays of it that reflected her warmth straight to his core.

It had not taken his father long to pull him away from her, the young girl’s own mother dragging her away from him in a flourish of silks.

When her mother had informed the young girl’s father of Jungkook’s interest in her, the door to his home in the woods had been shattered to splinters by that father.

He had answered the older man’s call, a rigidness to the lines stiffening the older man’s face when he admonished Jungkook for coming too close to his precious daughter knowing that, as Jungkook was a pureblood, his urges and impulses would be much more uncontrollable, dangerous, and powerful.

That Jungkook’s father had bested this man in combat and taken from him the rank of Pack Alpha had only founded a dislike and disapproval of him even deeper.

Jungkook had not felt an ounce of fear, the thought of you, his glimmering goddess of flesh and bone, bespeckling him in intent. Intent that refused to let itself be snuffed out.

He had gone to his knee that night, bowing his head as a sign of respect when he’d told the young girl’s father about all that they’d done and promised under the moon, asking if there was a way her father would allow him to remain by her side even though she had forgotten him.

Her father had responded to his question with a challenge: injure him in combat, and he would accept Jungkook as his daughter’s silent protector and guardian in exchange for the chance to be near her, but absent from her everyday life until he could prove himself to be stronger than him.

He’d accepted the challenge without a second thought, and though he still had not been full grown at the time, he’d known enough from training with his father, who had been the Pack Alpha before him, to leave a scar on the man’s arm when he’d foolishly rushed toward him thinking speed would be enough to best him when he was more agile than any wolf the pack had ever had.

One thing he knew for certain had always been that the very thought of you brought music and color to an otherwise bland, dull world.

And if you could not remember him, he would rebuild anew. As many times as it took, he would start if you were at the finish.

What began as childish selfishness soon became adolescent fixation, and as the years passed and he grew taller, stronger, and older, that fixation morphed to a quiet obsession for the female that he’d discovered was, like him, a werewolf.

Her life, he had also discovered, had been one absent of the light and warmth she carried in her eyes.

For her whole life, she had been raised to be the Keeper of the Scrolls (one who attended to, studied, and taught all of the sacred knowledge and texts as well as enforced the traditions of the lupine antiquis) second only to being groomed to become the next Pack Omega, the highest ranked position an omega could hold, which was a position that afforded its bearer to preside over and have authority over all omegas in the pack.

She'd had to sacrifice her childhood for aged parchments and leather bindings of books older than her, the duty of nurturing and instructing the pack's litters of pups falling to her when the previous aged omega became too sick and frail to even leave her bed.

His lover's parents, thinking only of another shiny acumen to add to their perfect daughter that they hoped would attract the next Pack Alpha, had not given her a choice to take that role over. It had been a mandate.

And because her nose had always been buried in a book or scroll either in her chambers or in the archives, she had had very few to talk to. Those that did only did so out of the hopes that one day, she would grant them favors.

He knew this because he heard those insipid, manipulative creatures spin their cruelties in their speech behind his beloved's back when they believed she was out of earshot.

He'd taken the liberty of handling them, making sure that any vile words spoken about his female were never spoken aloud again with threats of exposing their own dirty secrets that so easily slipped from their lips when he gave them even the slightest bit of attention.

Such was easy when all of the females in the pack fancied him to the point that they would all but throw themselves at him when he took over the forge that his father had alone been running.

But sometimes, even he could not silence all of the toxic whispers of female jealousy. It was like a disease, and though he had done his best to cure it, there inevitably would be an outlier that slipped under his nose.

On those nights, his love wept alone in her chambers, her face buried in the mound of pillows on her bed that could not satisfy the need for another's companionship in the bitter solidarity that her parents had caused with their suffocating projection of their own will over her own.

Those were the nights he wandered closer than he should have and left you notes on your windowsill, wishing with everything in his being that he could be by her side, that he could do more than just be your besotted guardian phantom.

Your mother had become sick with an incurable illness your thirteenth winter when she had ventured too far in the forest and been pricked by a nature spirit’s curse that made her see things that were not there, her mind twisted by apparitions that made her forget all but her mate–even her own daughter. Your father, too, had been afflicted by his feelings for her mother that all but consumed him, and when she’d fallen into a sleep that had stopped her organs in your fifteenth year, her soul had joined those of their ancestors.

Unable to live without his mate, your father had gone, too, so that he could be reunited with his love in the after.

In his final moments, he’d sent for Jungkook, and he’d damned Jungkook such that, for many moons after, he would wish he could be rid of that night from his mind.

The dying man, who held tight to the blade in his chest that he had put there, had revealed to him that he had traded your memories with Jungkook in exchange for a release from your mother’s torment. With his last shred of life he had ordered Jungkook to protect you from a distance until his daughter came of age–until you were ready to give yourself to the next Pack Alpha.

You had not even been able to mourn them in peace, the duties your parents had bound unto you too tight to escape, and for three years you wore smiles during the day that never reached your eyes when the elders, like owls, had swooped down over you to caw at you to do more, more, more for the litters of pups you had to teach as the sole Schoolmistress, to be more firmer on the edicts and laws you were to enforce as Keeper of the Scrolls.

For years he had been your shadow and had kept to your father’s dying wish, and he had been content in simply being in your presence. Just seeing you had been enough to quiet the rampant thoughts that roamed his head when he closed them at night.

But when the heavy weight of it all became too much for you, it was no longer enough for him to linger by your window.

It was why, when the firelight had died and you laid on your bed in a deep sleep, he entered your chambers from the window you’d left open and stoked that fire so that the cold of loneliness did not find you. For a long time, he'd just sit there, watching your beautiful expressions while you slept with the flames licking at his back.

How he had longed to embrace you, but doing so would leave his scent on you. So instead, he did the only thing he could do for you.

He sang for you. Sang the very song he'd first heard you sing in the creek when they had been but children. And when the creases between your eyes would disappear, peace falling over your expression, that's when he'd confess his feelings for you and pour his very heart out to your unknowing form while you whispered his name as if you heard him. As if to beckon him to your dreams.

You’d had the cutest habit of rolling around and somehow twisting the sheets around your body in something akin to a cocoon. On the draftier nights that left a shoulder or leg exposed, he could sooner resist tucking you in than a leaf staying still when the wind blew. He’d kiss the space right next to where your hand was, the silky material of your bedding a poor excuse to the soft flesh of your hand or cheek.

Your mouth had always been off limits to him, but there were nights that you called so sweetly for him, your mind begging you to remember what had been taken from you.

Everytime he thought to wake you and tell you everything, it came just as soon as it retreated, the image of your father’s pallid form drenched in his own blood forcing itself upon him while he’d spurted the words of warning:

“She must never be told her memories were taken. If you do, the dark spirit that hurt her mother will steal away whatever memories she has left and she will wake every day with no anamnesis of you. As the only pureblooded female directly descended from the Lupine Antiquis, she presents a threat to their power that they wish to destroy. If you truly wish to be her shield, you will heed that, boy.”

He’d lost count of how many suns had risen with that warning pervading his mind like venom. Always looming over his head, he had never managed to cure himself of it.

Relief only came when he watched her, from behind the cover of foliage, and she ran through the fields, her hair unbound and free, with a smile that did find its way all the way into her irises. It seemed to glow brighter than the candlelight she’d leave by her bedside when she read through the letters he’d leave on her windowsill. He swore that from her perch on her bed, those orbs were impossibly more luminous.

That same luminescence stayed there only when she spoke to her grandmother or close friend, Niva, of her mysterious suitor from the paper left on her window. When she found him, inevitably, in their dreams that, for years, she had thought only to be a fabrication of her mind’s whims.

He moves toward the same rocky wall, walking through the curtain of vines and greenery without pause toward his destination.

He’s careful as he parts the strands of nature’s green hair, not wanting it to touch you and disturb your rest.

The rustling sound of the grass beneath his feet is quieted by the same flowing water that had greeted him when he was a child all of those years ago, the proud creek she’d made her refuge when home became asphyxiating from the demands of elders children that asked much of her.

The water sparkles now like thousands of diamonds atop of it, the green of the grass surrounding the bank of the pool emeraldine in color before the rocks bordering the pool of water. Even the trees stand at attention, devoted to shielding them from the rest of the world with boughs that contained leaves of every color that rivaled the precious stones he had fashioned into jewelry for her.

So much had happened since he’d first stepped foot here. And though your memories of him from before had been stolen, you’d never forgotten this place.

And neither had he.

His feet continue on past that creek, past the long basin of water that flows toward the smaller crevices in the earth, the thick forest around opening up to a meadow of lilies, lilacs, and lavender, the soft breaths of his slumbering beloved easing him while he carries you in his arms toward the large house of wood and glass in the distance.

You’d always loved the color purple, your hands lingering a little too long on fabric of the shade or flowers with petals of the hue as if you wished the entire world could be painted in it.

Purple like area around his wound had been when he’d come across her in the forest one night so many years ago and when they’d rendezvoused under the moon.

Not wanting to disturb her while she sang, he’d forgotten about the prick lodged in one of them when he tried to back up, only for him to have made a sound of pain.

It had been enough to make the human figure before him finally turn, familiar kindness in those eyes of hers dispelling the dark of his doubts and troubles.

She’d noticed right away the source of his discomfort, offering her gentle hands to him without a second thought.

He’d been taught his entire existence never to show weakness to anyone, but this creature–this goddess with a voice tuned and tailored by the gods– she had him quickly lain on his belly and his head on her lap within minutes, the melodies of feelings that could neither be seen nor understood streaming from her lips while she quickly, effortlessly, and painlessly pulled the thorn out before wrapping his injured paw in a bandage of leaves and moss.

He wonders if, somewhere in there, she’d been holding on and grasping for those little reminders of their time together even if she could not recall them fully. Like trying to grab for hay that kept disappearing no matter how many times one tried to get to it.

Still he walks on to the place he had built for her—a home he had crafted with his own hands, each beam and stone chosen with care.

The cabin stood there like something from the dreams he’d shared with her, its dark gray stonework grounding it firmly to the earth, while the warm, golden hues of the wood siding seemed to beckon the fading sunlight, blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the forest. A towering stone chimney rose from one side, smoke curling lazily into the sky.

But it was the windows that had taken him the longest to craft—the massive, sweeping wall of glass that spanned the entire second story. It framed the forest like a living painting, offering an uninterrupted view of the wild landscape beyond. The black frames around the windows gave the structure contrasted with the light brown of the main paneling composing the main frame of the house, while a glass-railed balcony stretched across the upper floor, inviting the master bedroom’s inhabitants to step out and drink in the vastness of the wilderness.

The soft glow of light spilling from the lower floor's windows added a warmth to the cabin, making it feel like a sanctuary tucked away in the forest's embrace. And the deck, broad and covered, stretched out beneath the overhang of the second story that was lined with the same bevy of vines from the curtain of it that veiled away her little creek. It offered a perfect space to sit and listen to the whisper of the trees in the wind that he knew she liked to hear.

He treads board over the porch, the flickering flames that burn from their bronze sconces casting an inviting welcome upon the lower walls of stacked grey stone around them.

He’d placed each stone by hand, fashioned every fixture and wood paneling, and been the sole architect and builder of this place from the ground up since he was a child.

All for her.

And as he opens the double doors of glass, she is all he sees, his one hand tucking some of her fine hairs behind her ear.

He looks not at the rugs of earthly colors he’d woven himself, nor the tables, chairs, or other pieces of furniture he’d built here, in this space, that decorate the main foyer that opens to the left to a grand kitchen, and to the right a spacious dining room. He doesn’t glance at the main den with its impressive stone chimney past the kitchen that, like the front of the house, has tall windows for walls that leave a grand view of the surrounding forest and valley beyond.

In the back of that den are two doors opposite to each other on either side of the space–one a library full of books he’d spent years procuring from traders and adventuring merchants.

And the other was a study complete with her writing desk, her writing utensils, her favorite velvet-lined lounge chair.

All for her.

He doesn’t spare a second of attention on any of that as he climbs the spiraling staircase around the chimney, the dark metal rail complementing the wood of the steps as he holds the greatest of his treasures in his arms while the candles he’d left lit in their bronze candelabras sitting on the end tables and countered nooks flitter about, his shadow and his beloved’s joining together behind them.

When he arrives at the top of the staircase, his footfalls are light over the floor in effort not to awaken his lover’s rest, her dark lashes fluttering minutely when he deposits her on the nest of white and black pelts blanketing the bed. Its four wooden posters hold a curtain of grey fabric that, in the moonlight, looks like it is speckled with moondust.

Still he lovingly gazes upon you as he sits beside you, his fingers tenderly carding their way through your hair as he whispers, “When you wake, my love, I will be waiting for you. Until then, rest. May your dreams be sweet and your slumber peaceful.”

He pulls the cord from around one post of the bed and then the other, not looking away from your beautiful form for a moment. It is because of this that he notices one of your hands, even while your eyes are still closed, reach toward him, his name tumbling from your lips when his weight disappears from next to you.

That thing palpitating in his chest becomes fuller with the blood of his love for you at that, and he is quick to return to you after throwing another log into the stone fireplace built into one half-wall so that the chill of the night will not discomfort you even though the pillar candles he’d set into brass holders fan their warmth over to you.

When he lies beside you once more with the pelt he’d retrieved from the chest of birch wood at the foot of the bed, he gently covers you with it before slowly, tentatively guiding you toward him until your head rests on the pillow of his chest, a purring sound melting him when he hears it from your still figure.

Still fast asleep, you rub your cheek into the solid plane of his pectoral, the pheromones of his that that wafts around comforting you as you lay one of your palms over his heart, its steady rhythm reaching for you even in dormancy.

You nestle closer and closer until your front is somehow lain over his, your nose nudging up against his neck as you breathe in the black vanilla that only grew in the mountainside, the gardenia that you liked to grow in your garden, and pear that you liked to pick from the pear trees. It culminated into a heath of the scent of your love, his quiet breathing warming you more than any blanket could.

When your purr is drawn down into a breath shaped around his name once more, your voice summons his mouth to your temple as he turns his head to leave a kiss there, strong arms wrapping around you to keep you close.

“I’m right here, my love. I always have, and I always will be.” He utters against your hairline, lips finding a spot at the top of your head to leave yet another of his kisses–this one softer than the last.

With the love of his life secure in his embrace, he watches the way your lashes dance while you dream with unseeing eyes, wishing he could meet you in them.

The sight of you so at peace makes his own lids grow heavy, and soon, he too is carried off into the realm of dreams.

It is not until the wax of the candles on the bedside tables has begun to drip into the small bronze beds below them and the moon has risen to her throne in the night sky that the female in his arms is roused from her slumber.

Your lids are still groggy with sleep as you blink at the view of your mate who lies beneath you, a serene expression tenderizing his features into one more youthful and absent of lines that mark the obstacles of maturity.

Your wolf, now awake at the sight of your alpha, does not let you rest until you have satisfied the sudden need to touch him–to make sure this is real.

That he’s real and finally, finally yours.

So you sit up a little, using the hand you have on his chest to support you, the pads of your fingers on your other nimbly dragging across the area under one of his eyes. He doesn’t stir, and so you let your digits slide down the side of his cheek before they glide under his lower lip.

His breaths are even as they billow against your finger when your thumb glides over the plush cushion of his lip, and when his eyes open to reveal those golden discs of the sun in them, it takes your breath away in how they are incandescent as the candlelight around him.

“Good evening to you, too, my love,” his hand is there, wrapping itself around your wrist so he can bring your finger to his lips, both of them converging so he can present the proper attention to your digit as the pillows of both reach for you. “How are you feeling?”

Not even five seconds spent outside of sleep, and his first concern was you.

The fact makes that emotion from before envelop you, and when you try to press yourself more against him, that’s when you realize you’ve been encased in furs around your lower half. You don’t remember those from before. The last thing you could recall was the bathhouse where you’d fallen into his arms from blood loss.

As you ogle the bedroom around you, the air itself has been claimed completely by your alpha, his pleasing scent everywhere at once.

Why was it getting hotter the longer that enticing aroma swirled under your nostrils? Why did it emanate your mate’s very name everywhere you looked?

The answer comes when your mate releases you from his hold, both arms bending under him so he can lean back on them while the muscles scaling his arms jump at the motion and a loud, sharp whine fills the chamber.

Your skin feels clammy, but you know that the cold would be nipping at you if you were outside.

You only realize you’re whimpering when one of his large hands settles on your hip and he croons, “It’s okay, my love. I brought you home. You can do whatever you wish here. This place is all for you.”

Words seem insufficient now, but even if you could voice them, what comes out is: “Hot…I-I…I’m hot.”

“I know, my love. Your scent shifted as you slept.” He helps you kick off the blanket, for it fails to offer the warmth he did as you succumb to the insistent itch to be nearer, closer, nigher to him before you climb onto his lap while he lets you.

“Why?” Your breath comes out short, like a pant, your dress suddenly feeling too heavy and constricting on your body. You try to pull at one of the sleeves, and when he watches that, the pink of his tongue slipping over his bottom lip, the answer becomes evident in the slick that rolls down your thigh onto the edge of his bare waist from where you straddle him.

The hand he doesn’t hold you with curls into a fist in effort to control himself, his teeth biting into the flesh of his cheek as he tells you, “Your heat, my love. You are in heat.”

The answer has your thighs closing themselves around him persistently, unwilling to let him go. As if your mind has been filled with water, it is difficult to breach for clear thought, your body acting for you even though your thoughts are leagues behind.

It’s too hot here, under these heavy layers of your dress. You need to get out of it.

“H-hot…alpha…please,” You whimper meekly, your fingers fumbling for the v-lined neckline of your gown in effort to get it off while your hips roll into his, the hardness your bare sex rubs against obvious in his want for you.

His irises scintillate from where watches you above him, the hand he has on your hip squeezing strongly around you while the fingernails of his other leave crescents in the meat of his palm. By their nature, when an omega was in heat, they became vulnerable, losing most if not all of their rationale and reason over the impulse of their instincts. Instincts that demanded an omega to be bred by an alpha.

While your mind is clearly addled under the sweltering waves of heat, you can hardly say anything but the name of the only male your very soul yearned for.

“Jungkook, n-need…w-want-”

Those are the words that he needs to hear, the nagging worry that had begun to set in expelled at the call of his name. An omega that was able to speak was one that was not too far gone into their urges such that they were unaware of their actions and incapable of deciding whether they wanted to be mounted or not by an alpha.

“I want to take care of you, my love. I want to help you so badly.” He sits up, his other hand sidling up your lower back, your spine, and finally along your nape where he cups the back of your neck so he can bring you to his waiting lips. “But you have to use your voice for me, my love. I need to make sure that it isn’t your heat that makes the choice for you. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes…a-alpha,” You let him affix his mouth to yours, the wet warmth of him making you moan into his mouth while you continue to tug at your neckline in how tight it has become. He makes no move to deepen the kiss, simply content to breathe in your air and feel you against him while your hips undulate against him.

There is no room for embarrassment when all you can think about is him. And he treats you as if you are a shy spirit that could run from him if your sudden boldness catches up to you.

You fight the eddies of your heat that make thoughts want to sink before they can make it to the surface of your mind, but his words and restraint had been the anchor that you needed to make it there for a momentary breach of lucidity.

The mist of desire that had settled over your eyes clears when you open them for him, and there he sees the clarity of your decision that is unmistakable as the stars in the sky when you reach out for him through the invisible bond tying you together.

I want this, alpha. Please, help me. I…I need you.

He dives into the depths of your eyes, plunging forth to unearth any unsurety in you.

He finds none.

His other hand scales up your side, fingers slipping under one of the thin straps of your gown that hides you from him. There they stay until you disconnect your lips from his, a string of saliva lengthening between you until it breaks.

“Are you sure, my love?” He checks one more time, needing your assurance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else, alpha,” you earnestly encourage, covering his hand with yours and coaxing one of strap over and down your shoulder.

Slowly, the long train of your sleeve pools at your waist, one half of your chest now free from the prison of its fabric binding.

His mouth waters at the exposed skin you have granted him the gift of seeing, the larger and calloused pads of his fingers tracing around your breast while you let out a sigh of satisfaction at the feeling.

“You are so beautiful, my love. So, so beautiful.” He adulates while his fingers wander downwards toward your navel as your cheeks burn at the praise. Heat simmers under wherever he touches, and when the fabric of your bodice hinders him from going any lower, his digits ascend toward the other side of your chest. This time, you let your arm fall back toward your side, waiting patiently for him to unfetter your other breast from its confines.

He tugs it down as if uncovering a prized jewel, your skin all but glittering in the moonlight and candlelight that convalesce against you.

Little by little he undresses you atop of him, your hands falling over each of his shoulders when both of his arms wind around your back to untie and loosen the strings of your bodice one by one. You swallow his breaths like they are all the sustenance you could ever need, and he greedily sups yours when he doesn’t have his mouth latched to yours.

When the last of the lacings are undone and your bodice and sleeves, like your skirts, lie in a heap around your waist, he pulls away and your breathless pants entice his eyes down where old blood, dried spit, and half-moon shapes made by his teeth mark you from navel to neck.

He looks at you like you’re a goddess without wings, and that avid attention makes your heart take flight in your chest as he takes one of your breasts into his hand, holding you there while you make a sound of need that, to him, is a delicate song.

“I had my fantasies of you, but nothing I could have ever tried to picture could ever have been as good as this.” He husks, his other hand cradling your other breast before each of his thumbs curve inward, the pads of them rubbing along that pink bud of your nipples. “Your tits are so fucking pretty. So fucking perfect in my hands. Just like the rest of you.”

The stimulation makes a rush of arousal flood your body, your eyes misting over once again while you plunge back under the haze of your heat as you cry out for him, your hips, to their own tune, rutting into his in search of friction. When he squeezes, massaging and kneading his fingers into your tits, it only has your hips working harder against him while you moan for him.

He captures your mouth with his, flipping you both over after releasing your tits so he cushions your head with one of them and brace himself with his other, a smirk playing at his lips when you reach both arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him down toward your waiting lips.

“I used to think about how I was going to mount you for the first time, pretty girl,” the rings of gold in his eyes beckon your attention as he nudges his knee between yours so that you have something to rut your hips into, for he hadn’t missed the subtle sway of them when you’d been atop of him earlier. “This is exactly what I imagined. You, bare and waiting for me, on the bed I made with my own hands just for you. In the den I built just for you.”

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