MasukHappy New Year, lovelies 💜✨ Thank you for your patience—updates will be consistent from here on. I promise 🌷📖
~NYRA~ “What took you this long—” The words never make it out. They die the second the window slides open, and I’m hit by a strong wave of earth and smoke. Him. Not Aaron. Bare skin meets the dawn’s cold—his chest pale in the low blue light, hair tousled like sleep tried and failed to claim him. Yet his eyes are sharp. Too focused. Awake in a way that has nothing to do with morning. The ledge beneath my boots is cold, slick with early dew. I don’t move. Can’t. One wrong shift and I’d slip—down the stone, into the quiet below. Or closer. The wind cuts through me, threading under my jacket, raising goosebumps along my arms. It smells like pine, damp earth, and—unmistakably—him. My fingers curl instinctively against the stone. My pulse stutters, loud in my ears, racing down my spine and into my hands. For a breathless second, the world narrows to the space between us—the open window, the cold air, the thin line of control I’m gripping like the edge of the ledge itself. And I
~ETHAN~ “So… you two will be sleeping together?” “No!” “Never!” Her voice cuts over mine—sharp, absolute, leaving no room for negotiation. For a split second, her eyes snap to me. And then they’re gone again. She’s been doing that. Looking—then retreating. Like eye contact itself is a line she refuses to cross twice. Aaron lets out a nervous laugh, the kind people make when they don’t know what else to do. One look from her shuts him down instantly. His mouth snaps closed. His shoulders stiffen. Why does he fear her? She’s just a woman. A dangerous one—sure. Too fast. Too sure of herself. But still just a woman. I’ve watched him take down five men without hesitation. He's strong. So why does one look from her freeze him where he stands? “Then he’ll sleep on the couch,” Aaron says. “Or—the rug. We can’t let him sleep on the floor.” “There’s no need,” she says, tone final. Not raised. Not harsh. Just decided. Just her. “He’ll stay here… with you.” “Wh
~NYRA~ He leans in… closing the only gap between us. And then I feel him — hard, undeniable. The world slams still. A jolt surges through me — heat, anger, hunger — all at once. My breath stutters. My instinct roars. I wrench free, twisting out of his grip with force and fury, stumbling as my back hits the shower wall. I need this distance to breathe again. Without looking at him, I snatch the towel, wrap it around myself, and step away—putting inches, air, sanity between us. Only then do I look back. Ethan stands there, chest heaving, hair dripping into eyes that are dark and reckless and still hungry with something he doesn’t understand. Steam coils around him like it’s trying to drag him back toward me. I shut that possibility down with a single breath. “Don’t try that again.” My voice is crisp, steady, unshaken despite everything burning under my skin. And I walk out, leaving him in the heat, in the chokehold of almost, in the moment neither of us will
~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
~NYRA~ “I don’t feel anything,” he cuts in. A clean fact, it slices through me—even though I never asked for this bond, the truth still lands like a bruise under my ribs. “Good,” I snap. “Maybe that’ll make this easier.” His eyes narrow. “Easier for what?” “To use this bond,” I lean forward until the air between us tightens, “and then break it.” His nostrils flare. He steps closer, slow, deliberate, until heat rolls between us. “You wolves,” he murmurs, face inches from mine, “are absolutely insane.” “You haven’t seen my insanity,” I say, quiet as death. “If I didn’t need you to become Alpha, I’d have killed you and ended this shit show already.” His brows twitch. “Alpha?” he echoes, eyes flicking toward Aaron like he’s piecing together a language he’s never heard. Understanding snaps into place: He’s human. A clueless, infuriating, fragile human. He knows nothing. Absolutely nothing. "You know nothing." I say. His jaw hardens. “Not everyone grows up as a mo
~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







