The Female Alpha's Human Mate

~NYRA~ “Mate?” “Yes!” Nina exclaims. “He’s our mate, Nyra.” “No. He’s a human. He can’t—” My words cut short when the barrel of his gun slammed into my cheek. Pain exploded across my face, metallic tang of blood coating my tongue as I toppled sideways, dirt grinding into my skin. I was still reeling—shock pounding harder than the hit itself—when I saw the rogues launch at him. All three at once. Nina’s growl ripped out of me, raw and primal. My claws elongated, piercing the black wolf’s throat in one clean motion. His warm blood sprayed across my fur as Nina yanked, tearing him apart. Gunfire cracked through the woods, sharp and deafening. “Nina, calm down!” I tried, my voice echoing through the bond. But the instinct was too strong—the need to protect our mate pulsed like wildfire through her veins. Two rogues broke away, one staggering, riddled with bullets, before darkness swallowed them whole. I turned back, chest heaving, only to find him again—my supposed mate—just a fo

~NYRA~ “Nyra! Nyra!” I woke to a sharp tug through the mind link. “Yes,” I answered groggily. “Wake up, Nyra. There’s an intruder.” Aaron’s voice sharpened my senses, every nerve sparking awake. “An intruder?” “Yes. Come down soon.” The link cut off. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. Hot water stung against my skin, my shoulder wound—once raw—was gone, leaving only a faint scar. Good thing no one knew. Yanking on a black tank top and track pants, I raced downstairs, heart thudding. Aaron and Knox were waiting, tense. “What happened?” I demanded, joining them. “A man attacked our patrols at night,” Knox said as we headed toward the grounds. “Why didn’t they kill him?” “He’s human,” Aaron muttered with disdain. Human. My pulse spiked. “Then why the trial? Uncle can just command him,” I pressed. “That’s the problem.” Knox’s tone was grave. “Alpha command didn’t work on him.” “What?” My steps faltered. That was…impossible. Humans bent instantly under A

~ETHAN~ “But if you cooperate with me,” she says, voice calm but edged with steel, “I promise you protection. And everything you’ll need.” Protection. From what—her? The thought almost drags a laugh out of me, bitter and dry. Her hands — the same ones that were ready to end me moments ago — rise. Fingers brush the split on my lip, cold against bruised skin. Her eyes shift, liquid green swallowing the brown, faintly glowing in the half-dark. My breath catches. I should pull away. I should move. But I don’t. I can’t. How’s she doing that? My pulse hammers against the bruises on my neck. Every instinct screams to run, but my body refuses to obey. For a second, her gaze feels like gravity itself — fierce, inescapable. Then she exhales, breaks the spell, and turns for the door. The faint scrape of her boots echoes off the damp walls, each step peeling away the haze she left behind. And without her influence, I snap back into myself. I can’t stay here. No chance I’ll escape

~NYRA~ Satisfaction hums beneath my skin as I walk out of the dungeon, the cold stone still clinging to my clothes, the metallic scent of blood and rust trailing behind me. His defiance cracked. Not fully—just enough to show the fracture beneath. And that—goddess help me—felt good. 'It wasn’t', Nina growls, low and disapproving. 'Don’t hurt mate.' 'Mate or not', I huff back, 'this is what we need. What the pack needs.' She wails at that, but doesn’t fight me. Not on this. “Nyra!” Aaron’s voice cuts through the hallway, sharp as a blade. I turn. He strides toward me, the afternoon light slicing across his features—brows drawn, shoulders tense. It makes him look older, more Alpha than he’ll ever admit. “So?” he asks quietly. “What happens now?” 'Not here. My office', I mind-link. His jaw twitches, but he nods and leads the way. The office door shuts with a soft thud behind us—still too small, too cramped, smelling faintly of old paper and the lemon cleanser the

~NYRA~ “Ethan.” His name leaves me like a blade—sharp, clean, meant to cut. Steam coils around us in thick, rolling waves, turning the shower into something small and suffocating. A cage. A battlefield. The water beats down my back, hot and merciless, and every drop that hits my skin feels like, somehow, it echoes inside him too. He stands in front of me—drenched, cornered, rigid with rage he doesn’t have space to put down. His chest rises against my forearm—slow, deliberate—like a test of how far I can go before I snap. And the worst part? I am hyper aware of everything. Every pulse thundering under his skin. Every stutter in his breath. Every wrong, impossible thread of the bond humming beneath my ribs, sharpening my senses until the entire world narrows down to a single focus. Him. His eyes lock on mine—bright, fevered, defiant. “Why the fuck are you attacking me?” he rasps, voice cracked and unsteady. My grip tightens on instinct—then slips, fractionally, like even m