**The night Ethan Blackwood first heard Megan Kelly’s voice, the forest held its breath.** He had been running in his wolf form, the weight of his pack’s future heavy on his shoulders, when the sound stopped him mid-stride—a soft, lilting hum drifting through the trees. It was warm, unhurried, the kind of sound that belonged to someone who didn’t yet know the world could be cruel. Cautious, he followed it to the edge of the woods, where a small house stood bathed in golden porch light. And there she was—**Megan**, curled on a swing with a cup of tea steaming in her hands, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders like autumn leaves. Ethan stayed hidden, watching. Night after night, he returned, drawn by the quiet rhythm of her presence. Then, one evening, he found her crying. The scent of her tears hit him like a physical blow, and a low, protective growl rumbled in his chest before he could stop it. Megan gasped, her blue eyes locking onto his emerald ones in the shadows. But instead of fear, he saw **curiosity**. **Trust**, even. Slowly, he stepped forward, settling on his haunches to show her he meant no harm. After that, their routine began. She’d sit on the porch steps; he’d linger at the edge of the light, listening as she spoke—about her children, her fears, her quiet longing to be **taken care of** for once. One exhausted night, she even fell asleep against him, her body nestled into the warmth of his fur. He didn’t move until dawn. But secrets have a way of unraveling. After a month, Ethan could no longer bear the lie. The night he shifted into his human form on her porch, Megan’s breath caught—but she didn’t run. He stood before her, towering yet vulnerable, and spoke the truth: **"My name is Ethan. And I’ve been yours since the first night I heard you sing."** *(2,999 characters including spaces.)*