เข้าสู่ระบบ“You're the best healer I've seen in a decade. You'll serve as my pack's primary doctor.” He smiled.
She just looked at the crazy mind that lay before her. Her fingers danced round his chest, ‘it had gotten into his head,’ she thought. ‘He must have lost his mind.’ The look on her face told she wasn't planning to accept being his pack's doctor. She felt he was just bluffing. “You're beautiful.” He never stopped teasing her as she massaged his wounds with her glowing blue eyes fixed on him. But she wasn't enjoying it, or so she thought. “That's enough. I'm not your mate. I'm not your servant. Don't confuse this with loyalty.” She warned, feigning a stern look. Frowning around him was very difficult, he was too funny to have her frown. His expression was calm, and charming and she fought hard to hide it but it always found its way out. Love can't be caged, no matter how hard you try. “I don't.” He smiled, caressing her hands softly. “But I reward skill.” He kissed her arms warmly, spreading heat all over her skin. She almost moaned, but she quickly got a grip on it again and yanked her hand away. “No touching. No kissing. Let me do the touching.” They giggled together. He brought out a silver emblem from his drawer. It had the pack's medic sign inscribed on it and he reached for her hand. She tried to hesitate but he wasn't asking, he put it on her hands firmly. “It's yours now.” “Well then, you better not die under my care,” she chuckled softly, her hands tingling softly on his side. “That would be embarrassing,” he smiled as their eyes met, the beauty of their held back romance and emotions glittered, she still didn't want it. “Then don't let me…” Days pass and she's been tending to him, morning and night. Replacing bandages, massaging and cleaning wounds. It was overwhelming and tiring but she never missed a day, she always enjoyed her time with him. A day without him felt like living with Evander. Most times, he's shirtless, those strong muscles staring right in her face. Always, she tries not to look, she struggles to hold back, but always fails. Her eyes can't seem to get off from his sexy body, even though her mind fought hard to. “You know you could at least pretend to be less distracting,” she grumbled. He was magnetic and she always wondered how she'll be able to keep up with this without crossing the line one day. He raised an eyebrow at her, his warm hands caressing hers. “You're the one touching me,” his voice was soothing, it always drove her crazy and made her keep touching. That was his charm. “Unfortunately…” she rolled her eyes at him. “Oh come on.” He wouldn't let her go. This was the quarrel everyday; don't go. She checked his vitals once again, but the burning emotions wouldn't let her do her job well. All she did was look at him, seeing clearly that he wanted her, they wanted themselves, she just wouldn't let it. One of the nights they were together, she finally asked him. The question had been troubling her ever since and she couldn't hold it anymore. “You have no mate?” It was funny and strange how an Alpha King would have no mate. Whereas, Evander had thousands that he disposed of at will, just like her. “Yep. Is that a problem?” He raised his eyes, looking deep into her mind. He knew what she was driving at. It seemed like he had access to her mind without my permission. “You're the Alpha King?” “So what?” “So what? Man, there should be a line,” she frowned. He enjoys pissing her. To her, having a mate was very important, most especially with someone of his caliber but he didn't take it seriously as she did, instead, he just smiled and shrugged. “I've never wanted the wrong one. The bond hasn't snapped.” “Until now…” The words escaped her mouth. She couldn't believe she said that, her heart skipped a beat as she saw the joy that blossomed in his face. He turned to her, unable to speak. They were shocked that she was finally beginning to accept it. He smiled while his eyes did the detecting. “I won't force a bond. You have a past, a dark one, one you've refused to tell me. I see it in your eyes.” Telling anyone about Evander, about her past, it would only break her. She wouldn't want that now she's finally beginning to feel safe. Every night, the tension between them grew. They can't sleep, pacing endlessly in their rooms. The only luck they had was that they weren't sleeping together in the same room. Once, she had caught him standing outside her door. “What do you want?” Her quivering voice echoed across the area, but he didn't flinch. “What are you doing here?” He touched her cheek and drew her closer. “To stop thinking about you for one goddamn night.” She pulled back, she knew what he wanted, she needed it too, but she couldn't. It would only bring back old memories, one's she wasn't ready for. “Then don't come here.” “You think I want this?” He pushed. “I feel your scent in my blood…” “Enough!” She felt it too, but he was acting as if it was a one sided thing. To her, she felt she needed it more than him, but that was a line she wasn't ready to cross. “Go home. Get some rest.” She shut the door before she did something reckless. It itched her to kiss him, she barely had a grip on control anymore. One evening, when they were together, the storm pounded angrily outside, the air looming with darkness and whooshing with untold words, no power, just firelight. He sat shirtless, as always by the fire. She needed to check a reopened wound on his ribs. They both had dark secrets they weren't ready to let out, secrets that haunted them. He still didn't tell her what he was doing all alone in the dark woods that night. He noticed the friction in her hands. She couldn't fight it, not anymore, the urge to fuck him, the urge to reveal herself to him, the urge to be free from Evander's grip. “You're shaking,” he raised her head upright and looked her in the eye. “Because your body heat could start a fucking war,” she cried. Her hands trembled on his skin, their faces close, eyes locked on each other, their breaths shuddering. He moved his lips to her ears and scattered her thinking faculty. “One word, and I'll take you against this wall,” he meant it, she knew. “Yeah. Do it, and I'll slit your throat after.” She broke free from his grip and they chuckled softly. She bit her lips in frustration and longing, looking away, but the bond burned between them. It never stopped. It went on like this. The nights stretch on and on like this, the quiet and unsaid words, undone actions, it ate them up from the inside out. He stopped coming to her room, but she still felt him, always. In fact, she dreamed of him, his strong hands squeezing her skin against the wall, crazy moanings, her name screaming in his ears like a curse. That was all she saw, every night. He also had these dark dreams, the same one she was having, but every morning, they act as if nothing happened. Last night was worse, she couldn't sleep. She didn't want to have those dreams. She wanted an end to the madness, the illusion, she wanted it, real. She just… “Doc, you look tired…” one of the nurses sensed. She had resumed work, yawning all day. “Yeah, try sleeping near an Alpha whose hormones could melt steel.” They all laughed, but she meant it. He was tormenting her, everyday, every second. One night, she walked into his room and found him bleeding and training. Immediately, she rushed to him and stopped him, pulling him away to a corner. “What is wrong with you?” She roared, her eyes burning with fear. “Don't you know you're not healed completely and you can't be doing this. You're not invincible!” He was terrified, she couldn't understand what could make him scared. He looked her up and finally spoke his mind, the one thing that has been tormenting him all these while. “Neither are you. And that's what terrifies me.” She was shocked that he had been worrying about her safety. He was scared that because he was incapacitated, she was in danger and he may not be able to save her. She bandaged the wounds and sat beside him, her hands softly stroking his hair as tears rolled down his eyelids. She pulled him to her chest, the one place he'll find peace. “I want you. I can't deny it. But I won't touch without your soul screaming yes,” he sobbed, barely audible. She was shaking… the first time seeing him cry, and it was because of her… “My soul is already screaming,” she raised his head slowly and met his gaze. “My head’s the one holding the knife.” He looked at her with pure understanding. For the first time, he truly waited, as if he saw her pain. At times, it felt like she was a mirror to him and he could see right through her and tonight was one of those days. She retired to her room later, alone as usual, lying face up on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her hands placed on her chest, just where the bond hums silently beneath her skin. “Don't make me love you. Don't you dare…”The clearing was heavy with silence after that twitch of Theron’s hand. Nyx’s heart still raced, torn between hope and dread. She held onto his fingers like a lifeline, whispering, “Stay with me. Please.” Caelum shifted behind her, eyes sharp as he scanned the trees. The tension in his posture made it clear, he half-expected an ambush even now. But then something caught the faint moonlight, a soft gleam nestled among the dirt and broken branches. “Nyx,” Caelum muttered, pointing. Not far from where Theron lay, half-buried in the earth, a faintly glowing crest pulsed with light. Its surface shimmered as though alive, veins of emerald running through it like lightning trapped in stone. Nyx’s breath caught. The Emerald Crest. For a moment she hesitated. Its glow felt ancient, otherworldly, as if it pulsed in rhythm with the forest itself. She could almost hear a hum in her bones, like it was calling her. Her gaze flicked back to Theron’s battered body, then to the crest. Something
The battlefield had gone quiet, but the silence was not peace. The ground was slick with blood, the air heavy with smoke and the stench of iron. Warriors stumbled back toward the center, some limping, some carrying the fallen. A few wolves still prowled the edges, making sure no rogue had survived the slaughter. Nyx wiped her hands on the hem of her torn dress, her satchel nearly empty after tending wound after wound. She should have felt relief, but a knot of dread twisted tighter in her stomach with every passing breath. Where was Theron? Her eyes searched the faces of the returning fighters, desperate to see him, golden-eyed and unshaken. But he wasn’t among them. Panic clawed up her throat. She whirled, catching sight of Caelum. The Beta’s dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest heaving as he surveyed the field. Then she saw it, the way his expression shifted. He was scanning, searching. And the longer he looked, the harder his jaw clenched. “He’s not h
The battlefield was chaos, but within it Theron was a storm all his own. Blood slicked his arms, coating the claws that had half-formed where his hands used to be. His chest heaved, each breath a jagged rasp of fury and sickness. The poison that had once nearly killed him still clung to his veins, burning faintly beneath his skin, but his will alone kept him upright. He is the Alpha. He could not fall. A rogue lunged at him from the left, jaws snapping, foam flecking its muzzle. Theron did not flinch. He stepped into the beast’s charge, seized its throat with one clawed hand, and crushed until bone splintered. The wolf choked, gurgling, then went limp as he flung the carcass aside like it weighed nothing. Already another came at him, but Theron pivoted, using his momentum to drive an elbow into its jaw. The crack echoed above the roar of the battle, and the rogue’s head snapped back before Theron’s claws tore across its chest, spilling it open. Every movement
The battlefield was alive with chaos. The air reeked of blood, sweat, and the sharp metallic sting of iron. Wolves clashed against rogues in violent bursts of fur and steel, the ground already slick beneath their paws. “Stay with the Luna!” a warrior barked, shoving Nyx back behind the protective circle. Luna. The word struck her again, heavier than any blade. She hadn’t earned it, hadn’t claimed it, yet it wrapped around her like a mantle she couldn’t shake. Theron’s roar split the air, a sound so feral it made even the rogues hesitate. His body moved like a storm given flesh, half-shifted, claws bursting through his knuckles mid-strike, teeth flashing when his rage broke the line of control. Every blow was precise, brutal, a reminder of why he was Alpha. Rogues fell in pieces around him, yet more poured forward, reckless and snarling. Nyx’s breath came fast as she sank to her knees beside a fallen warrior. Blood bubbled at his lips, his chest heaving shallowly. She tore open her
The war camp pulsed with restless energy. Wolves in human skin moved swiftly, sharpening blades, strapping leather guards across forearms, and tying axes to belts. The scent of iron and pine hung heavy in the night, laced with the sharp tang of anticipation. Warriors’ eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight, betraying the beasts that waited beneath their skin. Nyx trailed behind Theron, her hands clutching a small satchel of herbs she had refused to put down. Every step she took was shadowed by whispers. “Why is she here?” one warrior muttered, his voice carrying despite the effort to keep it low. “She’s no fighter.” Another hissed back, “She’s the Alpha’s mate. Our Luna. She should be behind walls, not standing on a battlefield.” The word Luna struck deep, wrapping itself around Nyx’s chest. She was not crowned, not bound by vows, yet the title clung to her, demanded something from her. She squared her shoulders and ignored the whispers. If she faltered now, they would see only w
morning was quiet, but it was not a peaceful kind of quiet. It was the hush that came after a storm, the silence that pressed against the skin, heavy and waiting. Nyx stood outside the Alpha’s chambers with a small tray balanced carefully in her hands. The scent of herbs rose faintly from the clay bowls, crushed roots mixed with honey to dull pain, dried petals steeped in warm water to cleanse poison from the veins, and a small flask of thick salve for the wound across Theron’s ribs. She had risen earlier than most, her thoughts restless after the night before. Sleep had not come easily. Even now, her cheeks warmed at the memory of how it had ended, the way his lips had brushed hers as though she belonged to him, as though he had known her for lifetimes instead of days. It had been tentative, almost hesitant, but the strength behind it had left her trembling. And yet, beneath that memory was the darker truth, the sight of him bleeding in the clearing, the poison creeping like ink u







