chapter 15

She was beautiful. Not in the polished, rehearsed way most she-wolves were trained to be, but in a raw, unfiltered kind of way that made it impossible for Knox to look anywhere else.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at him. The way her lips had tasted just moments ago. Even now, when she pulled back slightly, her breath brushing his skin, he couldn't let go. Her presence clung to his senses, intoxicating and consuming.

Something had changed between them.

Even after hearing her story about Circe—her missing wolf, her broken bond—he didn’t pull away. He had promised to help her, to stand by her. But the promise wasn’t just duty anymore. It was desire. It was something deeper. Something primal.

Lydia’s eyes locked on his, searching, questioning, maybe even scared. But she didn’t flinch. Her gaze didn’t waver.

Knox didn’t know what to do. His heart was racing, pounding like war drums in his chest. The air between them had thickened with tension. It reeked of lust—his, unmistakably. And he saw something flicker in her face too. A blush rising. Her lips parting. She noticed.

She felt it too.

He wanted more than just a kiss. More than a grateful look or whispered thank you. He knew she wasn’t his fated mate. The bond didn’t hum with fate’s magic. But right now, he didn’t care.

He wanted her.

He leaned in and captured her lips once more, this time with all the longing and hunger he had kept buried for too long. He kissed her like a man starved—desperate, rough, aching.

To his surprise—and relief—Lydia didn’t resist.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer as her lips molded to his. Their tongues tangled in rhythm, both searching, both claiming. There was no space between them anymore. Just breathless heat and unsaid emotions.

Knox’s hand moved down her back, sliding over her curves until he reached the round swell of her ass. He gave it a hard squeeze, and Lydia moaned into his mouth, her body arching toward him in response.

That sound did something to him. It broke whatever fragile control he still had.

He growled low in his throat and slipped his arm under her, lifting her with one hand as though she weighed nothing. She gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pulled her into his lap.

Now, she was straddling him.

Now, she could feel just how much he wanted her.

His erection pressed against her center, the hard ridge obvious even through his pants. Lydia groaned softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as her hips shifted, brushing against him.

“Lydia…” he whispered against her lips, voice strained, body trembling from restraint.

She opened her eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire. “I know.”

Knox’s breath was warm against Lydia’s neck. The silk of her bathrobe slipped easily beneath his fingers, the knot already undone. With a slow, deliberate motion, he tugged the fabric off her shoulder, exposing the smooth line of her collarbone to the dim glow of the moonlight seeping through the curtains.

His eyes locked on hers—stormy gray meeting ember gold.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, gravelly, trembling with restraint.

Lydia swallowed, her heart beating furiously inside her chest. “Yes,” she whispered, sliding her fingers into his thick dark hair. “I want this. I want you.”

That was all he needed.

His lips crashed onto hers in a feverish kiss—hot, urgent, and consuming. She moaned softly into his mouth as their tongues tangled, the taste of him dizzying her senses. His hands slipped under the robe, palms wide and warm against her waist, then climbing higher, skimming over the clasp of her bra.

The moment he unhooked it, he broke the kiss and looked at her—really looked. Her breath caught as he peeled the straps away, revealing the swell of her breasts, her nipples already pebbled from his touch.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, then dipped his head.

Lydia arched as his lips brushed across her skin, lingering, exploring. When his mouth found her nipple, she gasped, her fingers gripping his shoulders as a wave of sensation swept through her. He teased her first, grazing his teeth against her, then soothed the ache with the heat of his tongue. Her moan was soft at first, then deeper when he suckled harder, his other hand gently squeezing the curve of her breast.

She could feel how much he wanted her, pressed hard against her thigh beneath his clothes. And gods, she wanted him too—every fierce, protective, complicated inch of him.

“Knox…” she breathed, her voice half a plea.

His hand slid lower, drawing her hips closer into his. “Lie back for me,” he said huskily, guiding her onto the mattress. The robe slipped off entirely as she reclined, hair fanned out like a halo across the pillow. She reached for him, hungry, aching.

He removed his shirt slowly, letting her eyes drink in the planes of his chest, the strength in his arms, the scars that told stories she hadn’t heard yet. She reached out and touched one near his ribs, then dragged her fingers down his abdomen.

“You’re staring,” he said, a wicked smile on his lips.

She looked away.

He growled low in his throat and joined her on the bed, his body sliding over hers, his mouth claiming her again. The kiss deepened, turning molten. Every part of her was alive, aching, electric under his touch.

He worshipped her with his hands and mouth, lips trailing down her stomach, pausing at her hipbone to leave a kiss there—then another, and another. She whimpered, hips rising, needing more.

When he finally shed the rest of his clothes and pressed himself fully against her, skin to skin, Lydia gasped at the heat of him, the way their bodies aligned so perfectly. He held still for a moment, breathing hard against her throat.

“This isn’t just passion, Lydia,” he said against her ear, voice thick with emotion. “ I have wanted you the first time I saw you”

Her heart twisted. She turned her head, finding his eyes. “Then show me.”

He did.

Slowly, gently at first, he entered her, and they both cried out—hers a broken gasp, his a ragged groan. The world narrowed to the rhythm of their bodies, the press of his mouth to her skin, the way he whispered her name like a sacred prayer.

She clung to him, nails dragging down his back as he moved within her, setting a pace that built heat and pressure and raw need. Their moans filled the room, soft and desperate, laced with everything they couldn’t say out loud.

Lydia wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and he responded with a growl that made her toes curl. “Lydia—” he choked out, “you feel like… stars, you feel like home.”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes from the intensity of it all—the pleasure, yes, but also the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing keeping him sane.

Their bodies moved faster now, heat building like wildfire. She tilted her hips, and the new angle made her cry out, clutching him tighter. “Knox!”

“I’ve got you,” he groaned, holding her closer, losing himself in her.

It was a dance of passion and surrender. Every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word pushed them higher until the pressure inside her broke. Her body tensed, back arching off the bed as she shattered with a moan that echoed through the room.

Knox followed moments later, his release pulled from him with a feral groan as he buried his face in her neck, trembling with the force of it. They clung to each other, breathless, sweat-slicked, hearts thudding wildly against their ribs.

He didn’t move, didn’t let her go. His arms stayed wrapped around her, grounding them both.

When the room fell quiet again, filled only with the soft sounds of their breathing and the rustle of sheets, Lydia touched his jaw and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

He pulled back to look at her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “Neither have I.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, Lydia knew something had shifted between them—something deeper than desire.

Lydia rested against his chest, panting, her breath warm and uneven, like soft gusts of wind on his skin. Her fingers were limp over his abdomen, her legs tangled with his. The silk sheets barely covered their bodies, the scent of passion still lingering in the room—thick, warm, intoxicating.

Knox let out a low, primal growl that rumbled through his chest. He cupped the back of her head, holding her gently like she was something fragile he’d spent a lifetime yearning for.

“I don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and raw against her hair. “Lydia, I—”

She said nothing, her eyes distant and unfocused as she stared at the ceiling. Her expression was unreadable—part peace, part something heavier. Knox noticed the subtle tension in her jaw and how her chest gradually rose and fell as her breath slowed.

Then, quietly, she closed her eyes. The memory of Circe—the dream she had earlier—drifted across her mind. Seeing her wolf calm and whole again, Knox beside her, had given her a strange sense of comfort. A feeling she didn’t want to question too deeply.

Knox felt her breathing deepen. A faint sigh left her lips as she drifted off, her body relaxing completely against his. He looked down, brushing her hair away from her face. The moonlight slipping through the window lit the strands like silver threads.

“She’s asleep,” he whispered to himself.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb her. But the pack link buzzed in his head like a persistent knock on a door.

Brian.

Alpha, please come to the first floor, his beta's voice cut through, sounding urgent—panicked even.

Knox’s brows furrowed instantly. Brian didn’t panic. Not unless it was something serious.

He looked back at Lydia, her body curled slightly now, hand clutching the edge of the pillow.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

As he slid from the bed, the scent of her clung to him—her skin, her moans, their shared heat. He bent down to retrieve his pants, but paused when he realized how strong the smell of sex lingered on him. He smelled like her. Like them. No way could he go downstairs like this. Brian would never let him live it down.

Knox chuckled under his breath and shook his head.

“I need a damn shower.”

He moved quietly, careful not to wake Lydia as he padded into his bathroom. The shower was quick, but cold—he didn’t have time for comfort. He scrubbed off the scent, not because he was ashamed of it, but because it would distract him. And right now, he needed focus.

Minutes later, Knox walked briskly down the stairs, fully dressed in a simple black tee and joggers, his damp hair slicked back. The chill of the late night wrapped around him as he reached the foyer.

Brian was by the pack house’s main entrance, looking pale beneath the overhead light. Standing beside him was a tall, bearded man. Knox’s steps slowed.

The man turned toward him.

Knox froze.

“…Jay?”

His voice cracked at the name.

The man’s weathered face softened with recognition. “Hey, kid.”

Knox didn’t wait. He closed the distance in three long strides and threw his arms around the man, hugging him tightly. The scent of pine and worn leather filled his senses—Jay hadn’t changed.

Jay was older, maybe mid-forties now, but built like a wall. Six-foot-six, with the same deep green eyes Knox had inherited from his mother. His beard was peppered with gray, and his arms still bore old battle scars.

“Uncle,” Knox said, pulling back just slightly. “I thought you were gone for good.”

Jay smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. I came back. Business.”

Knox's brows drew together. “What kind of business?”

Jay’s eyes flickered toward Brian, then back to Knox. His face darkened. “It’s about your mom.”

Knox blinked.

“What about Mom?” he asked, chest tightening. “You told me she was in the North. That she was with you. Safe.”

“She was,” Jay said, his voice rough. “Until a few days ago.”

Brian remained quiet, but his stance shifted, shoulders tensing. He didn’t know the full story, but the energy in the room had changed—he could feel the weight in the air.

“We were attacked,” Jay continued. “Our pack. The northern border. At first, we thought it was just rogues. But… it wasn’t.”

Knox’s heart beat louder. “Not rogues? Then who—?”

“They were skilled,” Jay said tightly. “Military tactics. Precision. Like trained wolves… or assassins.”

Knox took a step back, shaking his head slowly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“They came out of nowhere. Swift. Deadly. We fought back, but they weren’t after all of us. They wanted one thing.”

He paused, his gaze steady.

“Aurelia.”

Knox’s throat clenched. “What happened?”

Jay looked away, just for a second.

“She held them off. Told us to retreat. Said she could buy us time.”

“So what happened?” Knox growled Kai surfacing.

“She is dead Knox they killed her”