Chapter One: Fat Wolfless Virgin

                 Nyra

His mouth found the curves in my neck, and every thought in my head shattered like sparks off the bonfire far outside.

He’d taken me all the way to the old barn at the farthest edge of the Hensley farm, where the noise barely reached us, just the faintest thud of bass through the ground, our own breathing syncing and quickening, moonlight seeping through the gaps in the roof above us.

Kyrell had me pressed back into the hay, his weight braced over mine, one hand splayed warm against my waist like he was trying to memorize the shape of me through my tube dress.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured against my skin, “none of it’s going to matter anymore.”

“Kyrell—”

“I mean it.” He pulled back just far enough to look at me, gold firelight catching the side of his face, and his amber eyes were so sure that I let myself believe him completely. “Whatever they say tomorrow. Whatever rank they give you. It doesn’t change anything for me. You’re still going to be my mate. Nobody’s taking that away from us.”

Thirteen years of being told what I wasn’t enough of. A wolfless disappointment of a daughter in a bloodline of Alphas, and here was Kyrell Ashkin, telling me none of it mattered. That whatever happened in that Hall tomorrow, I’d still get to keep this. Keep him.

We’d been together four months. My parents hated it. An Alpha bloodline with a mere Beta blood. I knew they’d never accept it, I had never truly had a mate, but tomorrow, that would change. If I could prove useful then maybe I would finally have a right to speak against them.. But right now, with his mouth on mine and his heartbeat under my palm, none of that felt like it could touch us.

He kissed me again, slower, warm and helpless and a little frightening, the kind that made you stop thinking in full sentences. I kissed him back with everything I had, both hands fisted in his shirt, all eighteen years of waiting to be chosen pouring into the two feet of space between us.

“I want you,” he breathed against my mouth. “I don’t care what anybody has to say about it. You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect to me.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called me that. I felt it land somewhere soft and unguarded in my chest, and I kissed him harder for it, half dizzy that this was actually mine.

His hands caught mine against his shirt, pinning them above his head while the other slid down, fingers catching the hem of my skirt, working it higher, and every good feeling in my chest went suddenly, sharply alert.

“Wait.” I scrambled one hand free. “Kyrell, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” He didn’t pull back, just went still, his mouth close enough that I felt him breathe the words against my jaw.

“I just — I’m not ready.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “I want it to be right. After tomorrow we won’t have a reason to hide. Once my classification changes, my parents won’t be able to stop us.”

“Nyra.” My name in his mouth was soft, coaxing. “I just want to be closer to you. I’ll be careful. Trust me.”

“I know. I just —” I pressed my palm flat against his chest, not quite pushing him off. “Please. Can we wait a little longer?”

For one second he didn’t move. Then he sat back so fast the hay rustled loud in the sudden quiet, dragging both hands through his hair, and when he exhaled it came out sharp and disbelieving.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

Heat crawled up the back of my neck, not the good kind. “Kyrell—”

“No, seriously.” He laughed, flat and ugly, an edge I’d never once heard from him in four months. “I just told you that you’re my mate no matter what rank they slap on you. And you’re, what, still worried about being perfect enough first?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.” He shoved to his feet, pacing a tight line through the hay, and when he turned back his face wasn’t soft anymore. I genuinely didn’t recognize it. “Do you have any idea what I just risked, saying that to you, the night before Classifications?”

“I didn’t ask you to say any of that.”

“No, you just wanted to hear it.” His mouth twisted, something cold sliding behind his eyes. “You wanted the whole speech. The promise. Something to make you feel whole. And now you’re going to sit there and make me wait? Like I haven’t already given you enough?”

The warmth in my chest curdled into something sick and cold. “Given me enough?”

“You really think tomorrow’s going to change something?” His voice dropped flat, bored, the way you’d explain something obvious to a child who wasn’t keeping up. “You think you’re going to walk in there and suddenly you’re Alpha blood? Do you have any idea how terrible it already looks, rejecting my mate and taking a fat wolfless girl instead?”

The bonfire smoke, the string lights, the whole golden promise of five minutes ago, all of it slid very far away.

I shook my head, refusing to believe the words were coming out of his mouth. My chest hurt so much I could barely breathe.

“I-I didn’t ask—”

“You didn’t have to.” He ran his hand through his hair, pouring out now like he’d been holding it back for months and finally found the crack. “Despite the family you come from, you still somehow manage to be utterly useless. I would give anything to have that.” His eyes were pure disgust. “This was never real. It was never about you. It was your family’s name, the one useful thing, with everything else wrong with you.”

“Stop. No. You don’t mean that.” Tears poured uncontrollably from my eyes. “You said you cared about me despite everything. You love me.”

“Well, I lied.” He snapped. “All of it. It was a lie. Are you out of your mind, I can’t love you, even your family doesn’t.” His face twisted in smug amusement. “You are hopeless Nyra. And tomorrow isn’t going to change that, I’m your last shot.”

He crouched down in front of me, closing the distance between us he had made earlier, two fingers stopping at my chin before wiping the tears that were falling from my eyes. 

He stepped slightly, his free hand reaching for his belt, he unbuckled it. “If I could just get you pregnant, then nobody would stop us. 

My eyes widened in shock at the realization. Did he?

He continued. “So you either take this as the big girl you are, or take it—“

I shoved his hand off my face and scrambled backward, back hitting a pile of hay, legs unsteady under me.

Something hot rose in my chest, the pain replaced with pure disgust. “You disgusting piece of shit.”

“No?” He laughed, short and disbelieving, standing as I did. “Suit yourself.”

The moment he reached for me, I threw a handful of hay straight into his eyes, enough to make him stumble backward and me enough to move past him and out of the barn.

The cold air hit me as I ran outside, the bonfire now just a distant echo, so far I was sure even a scream wouldn’t reach anyone.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice chased me across the grass, closer than I expected, footsteps pounding after mine. “I am doing you a favor. Do you think anyone is going to settle for a fat pig like yourself?”

Without a second thought I ran for the nearest forest, pushing through branches, heart hammering against my chest.

I didn’t dare look back. All I could think about was getting as far away as my legs could take me. Branches tore at my arms. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, and behind me I could still hear him — “Nyra! Get back here!” My dress caught and ripped on a low branch. My bare feet, heels long abandoned by the fence, bit against rocks and roots I couldn’t see in the dark.

My leg caught in something low to the ground, thick vines, snapping tight around my ankle, and the momentum of my own sprint yanked me down hard, knees slamming into the earth.

“No — no, no—” I clawed at the vine, and it only cinched tighter, biting into my skin.

“Where are you, you fat bitch!”

His voice was still out there, closer than I wanted, and pure animal panic took over anything resembling thought.

“Stupid legs, would you just work.” Tears blurred my vision as the spikes dug into my skin.

Closing my eyes, I braced for one final pull and yanked free with everything I had, the force throwing me face-first onto the hard ground, or something that felt like it.

Only it wasn’t the ground I hit.

Scrambling away, legs still aching, I stared at the figure covered in leaves. A man, face-down, unmoving, dirt and debris clinging to skin that hadn’t moved in hours.

“Oh my god.” My own voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

Was he dead?

He moved a moment later, a slow, groggy stir like someone waking from a long sleep. He rose in stages, one hand braced against a tree trunk like he had to relearn what standing even was, skin caked in mu

d and wet leaves.

My eyes raked over his frame until it stopped.

He was naked. Completely, utterly naked.