Page 19 of Love, Clumsily (Fur Real Love #2)
Opening my eyes, I found Mason—still in wolf form—sitting at the edge of the clearing, watching me with those luminous eyes. There was something in his posture, an energy that seemed different from his usual post-run contentment.
“Mason?” I said, sitting up straighter. “Everything okay?”
He approached slowly, something in his jaws that I couldn’t immediately identify. As he drew closer, I realized it was a small leather pouch, carefully held between his teeth.
“What have you got there?” I asked, curious and slightly confused.
He dropped the pouch at my feet, then sat back on his haunches, watching me expectantly. I picked it up, noting that it was damp with his saliva but otherwise intact—whatever was inside had been carried with great care.
“Is this for me?” I asked, though the answer seemed obvious from his attentive posture.
He made a soft whining sound that I interpreted as encouragement to open it. Intrigued, I untied the leather cord that secured the pouch and tipped the contents into my palm.
A ring. A simple, beautiful band of what appeared to be silver (though I knew it couldn’t be—silver burned werewolf skin) inlaid with a strip of dark wood that spiraled around its circumference.
My breath caught in my throat as I understood the significance. “Mason,” I whispered, looking from the ring to his wolf eyes, which watched me with unmistakable anxiety. “Is this…?”
He whined again, shifting his weight in a gesture I recognized as nervousness. Then, with a visible effort of will, he began to shift back to human form—a rare choice during a full moon, when the wolf form was usually too pleasurable to relinquish until sunrise.
The transformation seemed faster this time, or perhaps I was too stunned by what was happening to notice its duration. Within moments, Mason knelt before me, naked and slightly breathless, his eyes still glowing gold in the firelight.
“I had a whole speech planned,” he said, his voice rough from the shift. “But then the moon rose, and my wolf couldn’t wait. Apparently, he’s more romantic than I am.”
I laughed, a sound of pure joy tinged with disbelief. “Your wolf proposed to me?”
“He wanted to,” Mason confirmed with a rueful smile. “But I thought you might prefer to hear the actual words from me, not just receive a ring from a wolf’s mouth.”
“I don’t know,” I teased, turning the ring in my fingers. “It was pretty dramatic and memorable this way.”
He took my hands in his, his expression growing serious.
“Julian Parker,” he said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes.
“This past year has been the most extraordinary of my life. You’ve accepted me—all of me—in ways I never thought possible.
You’ve taught me that I don’t have to choose between my human and wolf sides, that I can be whole and loved exactly as I am. ”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them back, wanting to see him clearly for this moment.
“I want to spend every full moon with you,” he continued. “Every ordinary Tuesday. Every moment, in between and beyond. I want to build a life with you, a family if you want that, a future that’s ours together.” He took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
The question hung in the air between us, though we both knew the answer. Had known it, perhaps, since that first collision in the park a year ago.
“Yes,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Of course, yes. As if there was ever any doubt.”
The smile that broke across his face was like the sunrise—brilliant, warm, full of promise. He took the ring from my palm and slid it onto my finger, where it fit perfectly.
“How did you know my size?” I asked, admiring the way the wood grain caught the firelight.
“Werewolf senses,” he said with a wink. “Plus I measured your finger while you were sleeping.”
I laughed, pulling him closer for a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened, fueled by the emotion of the moment and the energy of the full moon still pulsing around us.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, I rested my forehead against his. “I love you,” I said simply. “Human and wolf, claws and all.”
“I love you too,” he replied, his hands framing my face with infinite tenderness. “My mate. My fiancé.” The last word was said with wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real.
“Fiancé,” I repeated, testing the word and finding it perfect. “I like the sound of that.”
His smile turned wolfish, a reminder of the moon’s influence still strong within him. “You know what else sounds good?” he asked, his voice dropping to a seductive rumble. “Celebrating our engagement under the full moon.”
Heat coursed through me at his tone. “What did you have in mind?” I asked innocently, though we both knew exactly where this was heading.
In answer, he pulled me to my feet and toward the tent, his intentions clear in the hunger of his gaze and the possessive grip of his hands.
Inside, he undressed me with reverent efficiency, his touch both gentle and urgent as he laid me back on our sleeping bags. The moonlight filtered through the tent fabric, bathing us in a silvery glow that made his eyes shine even brighter gold.
“Mine,” he growled, his voice more wolf than human as he covered my body with his. “Forever.”
“Yours,” I agreed, pulling him closer. “Always.”
And there, beneath the full moon that had first revealed his secret to me, we sealed our promise in the most ancient and primal of ways—with bodies joined, hearts aligned, souls irrevocably intertwined.
Later, as we lay tangled together in the aftermath of passion, Mason’s warmth keeping the night’s chill at bay, I gazed at the ring on my finger and marveled at the journey that had brought us here.
From that first chaotic meeting in the park—pasta salad and all—to this moment of perfect contentment, it had been a path neither of us could have anticipated. There had been challenges, certainly. Adjustments and compromises and occasional misunderstandings.
But there had also been joy. Discovery. Growth. The profound pleasure of loving someone fully and being fully loved in return.
“What are you thinking about?” Mason murmured, his voice drowsy as he nuzzled against my neck.
“About us,” I said, tracing patterns on his chest. “About how lucky we are to have found each other.”
He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to the palm. “It wasn’t luck,” he said with quiet certainty. “It was fate. Written in the stars, howled to the moon. Inevitable.”
I smiled, touched by his romantic declaration. “The clumsy werewolf and the sarcastic human? That was fate’s grand design?”
“Absolutely,” he confirmed, pulling me closer. “The perfect match. You needed someone to crash into your life and shake things up. I needed someone who could see past the wolf to the man beneath—and love both equally.”
Put that way, it did seem like more than mere coincidence. “Well, if it was fate,” I said, kissing him softly, “then I’m very grateful to whatever cosmic force brought you tumbling into my lunch that day.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling pleasantly against my chest. “Me too,” he said. “Even if I did ruin your pasta salad.”
“Best ruined lunch ever,” I assured him.
We fell silent then, content to simply be together under the moon’s watchful eye.
Tomorrow we would return to the cabin—our cabin—and share our news with the pack.
There would be celebrations and planning, questions about dates and venues and whether we wanted a human ceremony or a werewolf bonding ritual or both.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight was just for us—the human and the werewolf, the mate and his mate, bound by love and choice and now the promise of a shared future.
As Mason’s breathing deepened into sleep, I remained awake a little longer, listening to the night sounds and feeling the weight of the ring on my finger—a tangible symbol of our extraordinary connection.
Life with a werewolf was never going to be simple or conventional. There would always be full moons and pack dynamics, the occasional claw mark on the furniture, the need for privacy during shifts, the constant negotiation between human convenience and werewolf instinct.
But as I drifted toward sleep in the arms of the man I loved—this beautiful, complicated, sometimes furry man who had chosen me as completely as I had chosen him—I knew with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After all, normal was overrated. And howling at the moon with your werewolf fiancé? That was the kind of forever I could enthusiastically embrace.
Claws, awkward silences, full moons and all.