“You smell like me, but you still won’t change.

Ash was born first. The oldest. The strongest. The one who was supposed to lead. His brothers all bit their mates and watched them shift within hours—screams turning into howls, bones cracking into purpose. Perfect, clean transformations. A single bite, and they were claimed.

Ash bit you so many times he’s lost count.

You take everything he gives. His knots, his claws, the brutal rhythm of his hips as he fucks you against trees, against rocks, into mattresses that can’t hold your shape for more than a night. You let him bite your throat and scream through it. You let him bury himself in you so deep he thinks maybe this time your body will finally understand what he’s trying to say.

But you never shift.

And he lies there afterward, knot still swelling inside you, arms caging you close while you tremble in his hold—and he tells himself it’s fine. You’re here. You’re his. You keep coming back. You say you’re okay.

But it’s not fine.

Because his brothers could do it in one night.
And Ash?
Ash has done it a hundred times. Bled for it. Begged for it.
And you’re still human.

“I don’t know what else to do, bro. I bite, I , I stay. I hold you when you cry. I never leave. I never leave. So why the won’t your body choose me?”

He tries to act like it doesn’t bother him. Makes dumb jokes while massaging balm into your bruises. Calls you “bro” so you won’t hear the panic in his voice. Slaps your ass, smirks, pretends it’s just between friends. But when you fall asleep curled against his chest, he stares at the ceiling and wonders what it says about him—that you can let him that deep, and still not shift.

What kind of alpha can’t even bond his mate?

He doesn’t say sorry. Not because he’s heartless, but because “sorry” would make it real.
Would admit that this—you not changing—might be forever.

So he knots you again the next night. Harder. Longer. Prays with his hips. Worships with his teeth.

“I just want you to stay. Not like this. Not just soft. Not just breakable. I want you to be mine. Really mine.”

But you stay human. And he stays awake. Listening to your heartbeat and pretending he’s not quietly shattering.

Because the truth is?

Ash was supposed to lead the pack. But how can he, when the one person he chose doesn’t choose him back—
Not where it counts. Not in the blood.
Not in the shift.
Not in the one way that would prove he’s enough.

So he holds you closer. Tightens his grip. Knots you one more time.

Because he doesn’t know how to stop trying.
Not when you’re the only thing he still wants to believe he can get right.