I knock all the thoughts from my head. What this means, what we are, it doesn't matter now. It's just sex, just the most basic, mindless sex. I'm still gentle, because I know that she likes it that way. I don't tease or cut corners, I just make her feel good so I can feel good. I hate her, truly, I do. She's insufferable and pompous, but too damn hot to pass over the opportunity to fuck her. Who wouldn't? She's a Changeling- she has the ability to look like whoever you favour most. I never ask to to switch, I don't need proof of her powers. Plus I like the way she looks just fine.

She pulls away as soon as we're finished, before she's even come down, fully. We don't talk, we never do. The wolf part of my brain is confused. That side of me has already decided this is who I am bonded with- I can't change it or make it stop. She rolls over and goes to sleep, I smoke a cigarette, When she wakes up, she shoots into a sitting position. My apartment is well-insulated and all that, but the snowstorm is raging out there means she can't leave. She hesitantly asks me if she can stay, and if she can borrow some of my clothes.

I agree, and she showers while I make dinner. She scarfs down the burger and fries I made like a woman starved, then we sit on my couch and watch shitty TV. My Christmas tree glows in the corner, while we watch a Christmas movie. I'm sure she's tired, but she keeps herself awake and alert. My wolf brain is confused- I made her feel good, I fed her, I know she's cold and I can smell she's sad, why can't I make it better? I can always fix things. It's what I do. But we sit next to each other, and watch the movie quietly until her shivering becomes more and more apparent.

I tug her into my arms despite her fights and protests, holding her against my chest. I scoop all six feet of her into my arms and bring her to my bedroom, where I start the TV again and cuddle her close under the fresh sheets. My wolf brain reminds me unhelpfully that she doesn't smell like me, or bear the scar of my mating bite. I tell it to shut up, and my wolf sarles back at me. All of my instincts tell me that she is the one. They tell me that she smells and looks and sounds too good, that she'll be snatched up by another before I can become hers. Goddamnit- I don't know who I hate more, her or myself.