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THE SUN ROSE to the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the scent of ground beans filling the air to signal that morning had woken. Dark liquid swirled into a white mug, a plume of steam coiling up to the ceiling that Adele breathed in, filling her lungs with the tantalising smell of Arabica. Eyes closed, she held the mug up to her nose and inhaled deeply, tucking her feet up under herself as she dropped down into the armchair with a heavy breath. Her home didn't feel like her own anymore.

For a few precious minutes, she was alone. There was no-one to bother her; no-one asking; no-one pressuring her to be anyone but herself. That was how she had lived for seven years and she wasn't ready to give up that life just yet: she was used to her own company. She wasn't used to everybody else's.

When she heard footsteps in the hallway, she kept her eyes closed until she felt a hand brush her shoulder, the lightest touch. Her skin tingled, heat spreading to her heart and down to her toes.

"Good morning," Caleb said. It had taken a little bit of explanation to get him to understand that it was just a standard greeting at the beginning of the day, regardless of how good the morning actually was.

"Morning," she said, opening her eyes at last, and she laughed. "Hey, you remembered to put pants on!"

"I did," he said. He looked down at the pot of coffee Adele had made and he dipped his finger into it, sharply pulling away when it burnt him. "Ainslie said it makes her uncomfortable if I don't wear clothes."

"I've been telling you for a week to wear clothes," Adele said, rolling her eyes. "How come you listen to Ainslie?"

"Because I don't want to make her uncomfortable," he said. "You never said why to wear clothes. You just said to do it."

Adele paused for a moment. "Ok, fair play to you," she said. "You can have some coffee if you want. Have you ever had it?"

He shook his head. She held out her mug to him.

"Want to give it a go?"

Tentatively taking the mug, Caleb sniffed it for a couple of seconds before he took a careful sip, holding it on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed. Then he took another mouthful, clutching the cup to his mouth with both hands.

"Ok, easy there, boy. There's a whole pot over there – you can have your own mug." She took the mug from him and nodded at the cupboard. "You know where the mugs are. I'm pretty sure I have at least one more."

He carefully calculated each movement he made, taking a chipped mug out of the cupboard and slowly filling it almost to the top with the fresh brew. Adele had run out of instant granules, but she had an emergency sack of whole beans in the pantry, grinding them up by hand with a pestle and mortar before she had boiled the grounds over the fire and pressed them through a fine sieve a couple of times. She would use the grounds again at least once, making the most out of everything she had, before she saved them in a compost bin for the garden once the snow melted.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, holding the mug carefully as he lowered himself to the floor, making himself comfortable on a cushion by the fire.

"Well, Ainslie's a kicker," she said, "so not much, and not great."

"I wouldn't kick you," he said. She gave him a look.

"We had this conversation last night, Caleb," she said. "Too much, too soon. You may have been looking for me for years but I've only known you for ... what, ten days? Just, ease up a bit."

"Sorry," he said. The solitary word sounded sincere. Adele couldn't stay too mad at him: as much as she was trying to get her head around him, he was trying to understand her too.

"It's fine," she said. She made an effort to smile at him. He almost always smiled right back. "We just need some boundaries, ok? Just until this makes a bit more sense. I'm dealing with a lot."

"I know."

She watched him as he blew on the coffee, his breath rippling the surface. "You know what?"

"That you're dealing with a lot," he said. "I can feel it."

"You can?"

"Mmhmm." He sipped the coffee. "Like a ... a kind of energy. I don't know the word. It's a feeling, what you're feeling ... I know it. I've felt it too."

"Overwhelmed," Adele said. "That's the feeling. That's the word for it."

"Overwhelmed," he repeated, rolling the word over his tongue.

"So you can feel what I feel, huh? Or you just know what I feel?" she asked. She had a feeling she would need more coffee, that she was in for yet another exhausting day. It had been a while since she had last felt so tired without doing any physical work: it was all in her head, the aching fatigue of trying to comprehend just how much her life had changed. And she had no control over it.

"It's like a smell, but in my head," he said, his eyes drinking her in as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "I can see how you feel, but I don't feel it too." He pulled a face. "I don't know how to say it."

"Saying it like that is fine. I think I get it," she said. "So that's how you knew about Angus yesterday? You sensed that I slept with him?"

Caleb's face fell, a darkness taking over his eyes. "I smelt him," he said. "You still smell like him."

"I've showered twice since then, Caleb. I don't smell like him."

"It's strong for me. It's annasach. I just know. Because of the bond."

"But you haven't marked me," she said. He shook his head.

"We're still bonded," he said. The words hung in the air for a moment. A chill crawled over Adele's skin. She shivered.

"What would happen if I rejected you?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Can I?"

His expression changed, sorrow sinking into his deep eyes. "Yes." He put down his mug, all of his attention on Adele. "Do you want to?"

She pondered it. As soon as the thought entered her head, she was struck with a heavy thud in her chest. It felt as though she had been hit, as though someone had thrown a punch at her heart. It jolted her and she jumped. "No," she said at last, confounded by the strike that had come out of nowhere. She couldn't bear the hurt on his face. When she had rescued him, it was to take away his pain, but she only seemed to be inflicting more.

"I know it's a lot," he said quietly. Adele was growing used to his voice, a comfort that had surprised her when she had first heard him speak. Somehow both soft and gruff, he rolled his Rs a little more than her tapped pronunciation, his accent far more distinct than she had expected.

"I ... I'll get used to it."

He smiled. She was trying. Finishing his coffee, he stood. "You need time," he said, as though reading the words that reeled through her mind. "I'm going to walk."

Adele stood too. "I don't know how safe that is," she said. "I'll come."

His face lifted. He pulled on a jumper that he had left by the fire; Adele passed him his coat, pulling on her own over her pyjamas and stuffing her feet into the winter boots she kept by the back door. "We need to talk anyway."

"We do," he agreed, fumbling with a pair of socks that she threw to him.

"Wait, what do you need to talk about?"

"I don't know," he said, "but there's something in your head. Something you want to say."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "It's a little bit weird when you do that, Caleb. I don't like that you're reading my thoughts."

"I'm not," he said. "Not really. It's just..."

"A feeling," she finished off. "Got it. Can you, like, turn it off?"

He shook his head.

"Even if I rejected you?"

"It would still be there. I'd still feel it," he said. "The bond is a string. It's two strings. From me to you, and from you to me. If you rejected me, there would still be one string."

"And you can't cut it," she said, buttoning her coat and winding a thick scarf around her neck. "Even if you wanted to?"

He shook his head again. "I have no control."

Adele pursed her lips. "Neither of us do," she said. "So who does?"

"Cinnidh."

"Please tell me that's a thing, not a person," she said with a grimace. She felt a little queasy at the thought alone that there was someone out there lining up her future, tying the strings of her life.

"It's in the stars," Caleb said.

"Ok. So it's fate," she said. She tugged on a pair of gloves. "I can deal with that."

Ainslie traipsed into the kitchen, her hair a mess and her pyjama bottoms scuffing on the floor. Adele wasn't particularly tall but Ainslie was shorter, small in every way. Her childish innocence shone in her blue eyes, her expression permanently a little dazed.

"Are you guys going somewhere?" she asked, yawning as she pushed her tangled hair off her face.

"We're just heading out for a walk," Adele said. "You can help yourself to breakfast if you want."

"Yeah, I will," she said, yawning. "Can I have a shower?"

"Go ahead. You know where everything is." She pulled her hat down over her ears. "We won't be long. Just don't burn the place down." Glancing down at the fire, she lifted her eyes back to Ainslie. "Careful."

"I will be," Ainslie said. "Have a fun walk!"

*

For the first ten minutes, neither Adele nor Caleb said a word until they reached the stream, trudging along the frozen bank. The water had stopped running a couple of days ago; it would be a while before it started up again.

"Tell me about you," Caleb said. He walked by her side, their elbows not quite touching.

"What about me?"

"I don't really know you," he said.

"You've lived in my house for over a week. You probably know more than I realise I've told you," she said.

"I don't know a lot," he said. "I was trying to find you and then I did. And then I was healing. And you haven't told me much about you." He paused, wringing his gloved hands together. "I know you have a sister you hate. I know she wants to kill me. I know you live alone and you're good with tools. I know you're my mate. And Ainslie's your friend."

"That just about sums me up," she said. Neither of them mentioned Angus. Caleb couldn't bring himself to say his name; Adele couldn't bring herself to hurt him with it. She watched her breath mist up in the air. "That's me."

"Who did you used to be?" he asked.

"Huh? Like, when I was younger?"

"Yes. When you were small," he said, pleased that she had understood him. "Your parents?"

"My parents are dead," she said. Snow crunched beneath her feet as she crushed it into the leaves. "They died when I was a baby."

"Oh."

Adele heaved a breath. She'd never had much reason to talk about her parents: she and Jade never spoke of them, their opinions too different to have a proper conversation, and she had no desire to get deep with Angus.

"I want to know," Caleb said.

"I don't remember them at all," she said. "Obviously. I was a few months old when they died. Jade was eight. They were in the Honour Guard, before they had either of us, and my mother took some time out of it after she had Jade, but she was right back hunting after I was born."

"Were they bad people? Your parents?"

"Yes," Adele said. "I think they were. All they wanted to do was kill werewolves. They didn't care about Jade and me. Well, not me, anyway. They went out on a hunt and they got themselves killed. They were hunting a pair of werewolves, and the wolves attack. They killed my parents. The wolves died too." She wrinkled her nose. She didn't like to talk about them. She hated that two people she had never met could make her feel so unbearably angry, the deepest sense of hatred and sadness that swirled together.

"I'm sorry," Caleb said.

"Not your fault."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry that you're sad. I'm sorry that you didn't know your parents."

"You didn't either, right? You said your parents died when you were little too," she said. When Caleb nodded, she added, "I guess we've got one thing in common."

"If your parents died ... who was your maighstir?"

"My what?"

"The leader of your pack," he said. "Your, um..."

"I've got you," she said with a dry laugh. "Who raised me, you mean?"

"Yes! Who raised you?"

"My grandmother," she said. A gust of wind blew out of nowhere, forcing her to catch her breath.

"You liked her?"

"I loved her," she said. "She's the only person I ever felt close to in my whole life. She taught me everything and she respected me, even when I was just a kid. Jade hated her." Her expression soured. "She thought nana was a bad person."

"Was she?" Caleb asked. He couldn't tear his eyes from Adele as she spoke, though she looked straight ahead as she walked with her hands in her pockets.

"No. She was wonderful," Adele said, a tinge of nostalgia in her voice.

"But she was a hunter."

"Not in the Honour Guard," she said. "She used to be. She left after my parents died. If they hadn't been in the Guard, they'd still be here. Everything would be different. She told me she realised something."

"What?"

Heaving a sigh, she held down a thorny branch with her foot before she stepped over it and waited to Caleb to join her again. His knuckles grazed the back of her hand; even through her gloves she felt the faintest tingle.

"That the werewolves were innocent. That you, you and your packs ... you don't attack. Not unless you're attacked. My parents were fucking idiots. The only reason they died was because the werewolves they attacked were protecting a cub: they should have been protecting me."

"We don't attack," Caleb said. "I would never attack. When Jade shot me, I ran. We ran from her. We didn't attack."

"I know," she said, softening her voice. It always got a little on edge when she talked about them. "Nana was a coibhneil after my parents died. She wanted to help. Jade hated that. They didn't get along. Now I'm nana's replacement, I guess."

"But she's not here," he said. "Your ... nana?"

"Nana. It's a nickname. It's short for grandmother," she said. "No, she's not here anymore. She died when I was ten. Twelve years ago."

"How?"

Adele barked a short laugh. "The Honour Guard," she said. "Creighton. He killed her."

"Creighton killed your grandmother? But he is ... he is with Jade?"

Adele pressed her lips into a thin line. "Yup."

"Why did he kill her? She was human."

Adele came to a stop. She kicked a snow pile and leant against the tree, sucking in a deep breath. Caleb stood in front of her, hardly a foot away. It was close, almost too close, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want to push him away. "He's evil," she said. "He is a heartless bastard. But nana was turned by a ... what did you call it, what turned Reed?"

"A saoghail," he said.

"Right. Well, one of them turned nana when she was trying to help. She hid it for a while. Nearly a year. Nobody knew. Just me and nana."

"And Jade?"

Adele shook her head. "She found out later," she said.

"Did she tell the Guard?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. I don't know why she would: she never wanted to look after me, and the only reason she had to was because the Guard found out nana was turned and they killed her. She didn't tell them," she said, shaking her head, "but she wasn't sad. She said that nana wasn't nana anymore, that she had evil inside her and she would have hurt us."

"Adele."

"Yes?"

"Why are you a coibhneil?" he asked. He tilted his head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. "If werewolves killed your parents and they turned your grandmother, and your whole family were hunters ... why aren't you?"

"Because hunting is what got them killed," she said. "The Honour Guard have lost sight of humanity. They've convinced themselves that werewolves are evil, but they're the evil ones. And Creighton's the worst of all." She curled her lips, clenching her jaw. "He's got Jade wrapped around his little finger. She thinks he's her saviour. He's brainwashed her, so she believes him when he says he had no choice but to kill our grandmother. She doesn't see that he's a murderer. They all are."

She zipped her coat up even higher, burying her chin in her scarf, and she pushed away from the tree. "If I was turned ... I don't think she'd have a problem with killing me. I bet she'd love to pull that trigger."

"She's not family," Caleb said. "Family doesn't hurt each other. She's in a different pack."

"She really is," Adele said. "There was a time, a few years ago, that I thought maybe we could salvage whatever we had, that all we had ever needed was space, but the second she started dating Creighton, I knew that would never happen. Now they're having a baby. She'll never leave him. She probably couldn't even if she wanted to."

"You don't need her," Caleb said. "Your pack is the people you need. The people you love. Your family."

"And that's you now, huh?" She looked up at him as she began to lead the way back home, looping in a circle. "I guess it is. You're my mate, after all."

"That's the first time you've really said it," he said. Adele shrugged.

"It's the truth."

They fell into quiet as they trudged back to the cabin. Adele's head felt a little clearer now, if only for having unloaded some of the stuff that had been packed in there for years, gathering dust when the only person she could vent to was herself.

"Adele," Caleb said when they neared the cabin.

"Mmm?"

"You wanted to talk," he said.

"We just did."

"Before we left. You said you wanted to talk to me."

She thought for a moment before she stopped in her tracks, suddenly remembering what had plagued her mind all night. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "Yes. I ... yes, we need to talk. I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"It's about Reed," she said. Caleb straightened his spine and pushed his shoulders back, gaining a couple of inches when he drew to his full height at the mention of his brother.

"You know something? Have you seen him? Did you hear something?"

"No," she said. "No, it's Ainslie."

"What about her?"

"She's Reed's cousin," she said. "She ... she's a coibhneil, Caleb. And he's her cousin. I think she should know that there's hope. He's out there somewhere. She's his family. She's kind of your sister, in a way." She paused, trying to find the right words. "She doesn't know yet. I didn't tell her. But she's hopeful, Caleb. She said she thinks he's a werewolf."

"But ... if she knows, she'll tell. She'll tell her family. And if she tells her family, they'll kill him." He shook his head. "She can't know."

"I think she should know."

"No."

"If I knew that Reed was ok, you would want me to tell you," she said. By the look on his face, she had forced him into a dilemma, tearing himself up as he thought through what she was saying. "You'd want to know. And you know Ainslie can be trusted. I don't think we should hide it from her."

He said nothing. He stood completely still. Then he walked forwards, towards the cabin. Adele tripped after him.

"Are you going to tell her?" she asked, jogging to catch up to his long stride.

"Not yet."

He pushed open the back door. She stumbled into the house after him. Both recoiled at the stench of burning.

"Ainslie!" Adele cried out, stunning the girl in the armchair, curled up with a book. "What the hell is that smell?"

"Um, I tried to make coffee," Ainslie said, putting the book down. "I dropped the pan in the fire, though, and it burnt the water and the grounds."

"Oh my God," Adele muttered. "I can't leave you alone, huh?" She pushed the door shut as the wind picked up, peeling off her layers. "Are you ok, though? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Ainslie pulled up her sleeve to reveal an angry red welt on her forearm where the flames had licked her skin. Her palm was burnt too, where she had lunged to grab the hot pan out of the fire. "Don't worry, I put ice on it," she said. "Well, I ran outside and stuck my arm in the snow. It's fine. Doesn't really hurt."

"Shit, Ains. Your mum's gonna kill me if you go about getting burnt on my watch. Sure you're ok?"

"Mmhmm," Ainslie said. "I had a shower and I made some toast. You should get a toaster, you know. It's a lot easier, and safer. I nearly set fire to the bread."

"Well, I'm actually impressed that you didn't," Adele said. She sat down on the edge of the arm next to Ainslie and she rested her hand on her shoulder. Ainslie looked up at her. Adele never initiated contact.

"How was your walk?" she asked, choosing not to comment on the hand on her shoulder in case mentioning it would scare Adele off.

"It was good," Adele said. She smiled. Her heart felt a little more free. She had someone to share with, someone who wanted to listen to her, someone who wouldn't shoot down her every opinion. Looking up at Caleb, she held his gaze for a moment, her hand still on Ainslie. Still holding his gaze she said, "I think I needed that."

He gazed at her, searching her soul with his dark eyes. "So did I." 

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annasach (an-az-uck): instinct
cinnidh (sinny): fate
maighstir (my-stir): master/leader; wise elder wolf

more than 1/3 through the book already, wow!  (30 chapters + prologue). i've been watching a bunch of scottish accent videos recently and considering almost half of my readers are in america, i feel like pointing out that these characters do of course have scottish accents! I do have vague accent reference videos for the characters from various youtube accent tags / scottish actors if that's something you'd be interested in

i also have two questions for you guys:

first of all: i see a lot of writers putting sequels/trilogies in the same book as otherwise they don't get read. this is something i'm rather loathe to do as i want to have all three books separately on my profile, but i guess it matters more what you guys think: if i post books 2 and 3 separately, will you guys still read them?

second question: purely out of interest as this is such a genre shift for me, i'm wondering how many of you are regular readers of mine/have read something before and for how many of you this is the first book of mine you've read - comment on the appropriate answer below! (you can say whatever you like but please keep it to one comment!)

i've read at least one of your works before!

this is the first story of yours i've read!