The direct flight to New Jersey took about eight hours, and by the time they made it back to Delia’s childhood home, she was more than ready to collapse into bed with Arran.
They’d spent the last three weeks traveling through the Scottish highlands together. He showed her all his favorite places and childhood haunts. The Highland herd had wisely left them alone, and Arran had explained the politics of Coos to her.
She could not believe mated males had the choice to just leave, but understood it would never do for too many dominant males to occupy one group. There would be too much infighting.
“Bulls rarely find mates, instead they service breeding Coos, and everyone helps raise the calves,” he’d explained with more than a little embarrassment.
But Delia understood. Some Shifter groups operated that way to ensure their survival. It made sense in a clinical way, though she thought never finding a mate must take a terrible toll on some.
She sighed happily, amazed at her good fortune. Somewhere over the past few weeks, Delia had fallen in love. Like really in love, not just the physical mating fever side of finding her fated mate kind of love.
Arran was amazing. A scholar, though he likened himself to a geek. He was funny, interesting, brilliant, and his writing was superb. Sometimes at night he’d read to her in that deep baritone of his and her insides would melt at the first sound of his delicious brogue.
He was her perfect mate. When she explained about her pansexual nature, he’d listened without judgement.
“I dinnae worry who or what or how many you dated before me, mo chridhe, as long as you are with me now.”
“I am with you now, Arran. Only you. Forever you.”
“Aye. That’s it for me, then.”
Goddess, she loved him. Everything about him, actually. His deep appreciation for the written word. His limitless patience. His insatiable appetite.
He took her to the best little bookstores across Scotland. Listened to her dreams of writing and encouraged her to go at her pace. He even carried her bags as they went from town to town, with Delia purchasing dozens of tomes for Crescent Moon Books.
She’d had them shipped direct and wondered what if any of the packages had started to arrive. She would call Clara later. After they had settled.
“Are you hungry, mo chridhe?” Arran asked, holding their luggage as she unlocked the door.
“Yeah. We can order in,” she replied, smiling saucily.
“Sounds perfect,” he replied, placing their suitcases inside the door, and pulling her into his arms.
As always, she melted into his embrace, opening for his kiss. Delia took everything Arran freely offered, giving everything she had inside her in return.
“Delia? Are you here?” someone screamed her name, banging on the front door just as they closed it behind them.
Arran broke off their kiss, turned around, his Bull in his eyes. He opened the door to reveal an out of breath Kurt.
“Kurt?” she asked, but the idiot Wolf was grabbing her hand and pulling her.
“Where the fuck have you been? I have been calling all day—”
That was all he got out before Arran seized him by the collar and tossed him on the floor.
“Get yer feckin’ hands off her, man,” growled her geeky sexy Bull, and she giggled.
“Wait. It’s okay,” she started.
“It’s not okay if this bawbag thinks he can manhandle my mate—”
“Wait. What? Did you say mate? Who are you?” Kurt asked from the floor.
“Arran Balloch. Who are you?”
“I’m Kurt. Delia’s brother-in-law. Holy shit, Del, Clara is going to be so pissed you didn’t tell her!”
“Well, it was a surprise!” she shouted when Arran snorted and shook his head, offering Kurt a hand.
“Delia, you could have told me who he was before I tossed him out the door,” Arran murmured, but she was too busy laughing.
“What are you doing here?” she asked her brother-in-law when she could breathe again.
“I came to get you. Clara had the baby, she’s at Macconwood Memorial—”
“The baby? When?”
“She went into labor last night after you messaged you were coming home. I think she was trying to wait for you to get back. Anyway, the baby came an hour ago. They are both doing fine.”
“Come on,” Delia said, grabbing Arran’s hand.
They arrived at the hospital where Clara was feeding her newborn. Delia wept openly at the sight her sister and new nephew made.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Arran,” Clara said.
“And you both. Congratulations on the wee bairn.”
“Thanks, man,” Kurt said, his arm around Clara as he smiled at the baby.
“Clara, he is perfect.”
“I can see that, Delia, but you could have called about him,” her sister said, ignoring Kurt’s annoyed growl.
“OMG, Clara! I meant the baby!” Delia gasped, and Arran blushed bright crimson at the unexpected compliment.
“Oh, well, yeah, him too,” Clara said with a shrug.
Later that night, as Delia and Arran tried to catch their breath, her mate turned to face her. Arran’s eyes glittered at her in the dimly lit room, and she cupped his face in her hands, loving the scruff he’d allowed to grow there.
“I know it's too soon, but looking at your sister and her family today got me thinking,” he began.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Look, I love you, Delia. We’re mated and all that, but I wanna marry you. I wanna claim you in every way possible.”
“You do?” she asked, tears of joy pricking her eyes.
“Aye. What do you say? Marry me?”
“Oh, yes, I will marry you.”
“You will?” he whooped, jumping on the bed, and lifting her up in the process. Delia laughed out loud as he swung her around, kissing her soundly before plopping them back on the mattress.
“I love you, too,” Delia said, reveling in his heated, possessive stare.
“Good, mate. Now show me,” he demanded, and Delia was more than happy to comply.
For her Scottish Geek, she would do damn near anything. Love did that to a woman, she supposed, and Delia sighed as she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him some more.
It took a long time for Delia to figure out where she belonged and who with, but she had Arran now. Together, they would build a life full of love, laughter, travel, and good books.
What could be better?
Nothing, as far as she was concerned. Her big Highland Bull had stolen her heart, captured her imagination, and staked his claim, and she could not picture a better mate for herself. He was it for her. For life.
Arran was always meant to be hers, and Delia knew without a doubt she was meant for him. As she fell into a peaceful slumber beside him, the last thing she saw was her Wolf in her mind’s eye and beside her furry beast, was Arran’s great big, shaggy Bull.
Powerful, strong, and hers. So hers.
An American Werewolf and her Scottish geek. That is what we are. Arran and Delia, for better or worse. Definitely better together than we were alone. Both stronger for saying yes to love.
“What’s going on in that sweet head of yours, mate?” Arran asked with his Bull peeking out through blue eyes.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have found you.”
“Och, I’m the lucky one, lass.”
“I see. So, grateful then that I came to Scotland?”
“Definitely, mate. Come here, and I’ll show you how grateful I am.”
Delia giggled as she stepped into Arran’s arms, loving the feel of his big, strong body as he encompassed her. Body, heart, and soul, that was how deep her love ran for this one man.
He nuzzled her nose, his lips tilted in a smile as he brushed one, then two kisses across her willing mouth.
“I love you.”
“Good, because I love you right back.”
The end.
Thank you for reading! You can get more Macconwood Pack Tales by C.D. Gorri, USA Today bestselling author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy by visiting https://