เข้าสู่ระบบShe knelt beside him, the poison was spreading fast and he was growing worse every passing second.
She mixed the remaining herbs she had left and rested his pale face on her breast. “You better not die. I've risked enough already.” She grumbled, stroking his hair softly. “This is going to hurt…” She applied the mixture she had prepared from the herbs on the wound. He winced but she smiled warmly at him. “Stay still. Can you do that for me?” She was still prepping the thread and needle to stitch him up. “I'll try.” He groaned. “Look away…” Slow and steady, she patched the wound on his side. His impeccable strength seemed like a myth to her as he didn't even move all through the process, just soft growls. Thereafter, she brought out the medicine for him to drink. “Drink up. It's nice…” He knew she was lying. The smell alone made his stomach churn. “That's not wine… and I'm not drinking anything apart from wine,” he protested. She just looked at him like a silly old man, wondering if he thought he was in his palace or something. She raised an eyebrow at him and forced it into his mouth as he gulped angrily. “If you know where you are, you'll shut your mouth and drink up.” Finally, she covered the wounds in cloth and held him close like a child, allowing him to peacefully relax on her chest. All these while, she's been busy tending to him, and totally forgot about herself, but that was too late now. The King was fast asleep. He started healing slowly, but still faster than normal. She carefully studied his bare chest slowly, having her fingers dance around it. The scars he had littered all over his body remained a mystery to her as she couldn't understand why the Alpha King would have such an amount of injury marks. Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart skipped a beat and immediately, she rose to her feet and dragged him to a corner, trying not to wake him up and unsheathed her dagger. Five wolves entered the cave, all rugged and brutal, their weapons out. Black uniforms, red crests, she closely observed all of them. She was trembling but had her dagger ready for anything. The look on her face meant nothing but death, she was ready for it now. “Who the hell are you?” One growled. Immediately, she grabbed Theron's neck and pinned her dagger. To her, that was the only way to save herself as she felt they were his men. “Hey! Easy!!” Theron intervened. “Aldridge, come on, she's got a knife on him. Step away!” Another cried. They still didn't listen, circling around her. However, she was more than happy it wasn't Evander's men. “Now y'all listen carefully. You know he'd be dead if I hadn't touched him right, genius?” They were still not listening. And one of them finally dived at her, but she was fast and had anticipated it. She had been noticing his movements since and immediately, she slashed his cheek and he fell back in pain, wanting to come back at her with full force when Theron's voice echoed across the walls. “Enough!!” They all froze. The madness ended. All weapons dropped and resounding echoes sent shivers down their spines. The area went silent immediately and they all dropped to one knee. “Sire… she…” “She saved me. She lives. Is that clear?” They exchanged glances in confusion and nodded in affirmation. She put back her dagger in its sheath, but didn't let go of it, hoping she might use it anytime soon. They took them back to his pack and he was taken to the hospital, although he ordered she must be taken care of well. Later that night, she was given a small guest room in an old lodge by the edge of Theron's house and she only retired to sleep when she was sure he was okay. However, she couldn't sleep. Her skin itched, her heartbeat wouldn't let her rest, her mind was not at rest. The haunting fear, it never left her. She got up and looked through the window, smiling at the stars. She had always wished she was like them, far away, but can always be seen, always be felt. “I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have helped him. I should've run further.” She cried and dropped to the ground. In her dilemma, she felt something stir inside her. She felt her heart tremble. A soft hum breathed beneath her ribs, her eyes widened. Fear enveloped her as she whispered. “No…” She held her chest softly as she knelt. She knew it, she felt it. Mate bond, it was real, she just wouldn't accept it. ‘No, definitely not him. No. I'm not… in fact, I don't care.’ The door creaked open softly. She knew he was near, and immediately, she rose up and wiped her tears. He stood there, wrapped in sheets, his eyes tired and needed sleep, but clear. “You felt it.” He wasn't asking, he was stating, but she wasn't ready to accept it, she still didn't care. “Felt what?” “You know.” “I'll leave tomorrow morning,” she declared. “What?! No! I won't allow it.” She rolled her eyes at him and shrugged, tapping her feet softly on the wooden floor. “You're not safe out there. You were running from something, those men, they're still out there,” he recalled. “Please, don't go out into those woods again.” “And you want what? Gratitude? I should clap for you for helping me right? If that's it, you won't get it,” she slammed. She still had her habit of being sassy, the same reason she always got it hot from Evander. She felt she deserved a thank you, and not protection, after all, she protected him out there. He shook his head in frustration, remained quiet for some seconds while she breathed with anger and paced around endlessly and he finally spoke. “Thank you…” Her eyes shone in shock, she wanted it, she just never expected it. “You saved my life out there. I owe you. Just let me protect you. It's the least I can do.” His voice was more than beautiful and it cracked her stony heart, just as if that ‘thank you’ opened her heart. “Okay. I'll stay. But just so you know, it's not because of some bond. I'm staying because it's the only way I can survive.” “Good. Then we understand each other.” He smiled gracefully. “Good night then.” She watched him limp away and shut the door softly behind him and dropped to the ground there. “I'm in love, I can't deny. But love is not real. I'll use him, just the same way Evander used me.” While she sat there plotting evil, the door flung open and pushed her away to the corner. Her heart left her soul already. All she saw was Evander, but the moment she heard his voice, she took a deep breath and almost dived at him. “You scared me!!” He was breathing heavily, “I'm sorry. I just wanted to ask for your name?” She was pissed but couldn't help it. “So that's why you had to push the door that way?” She frowned. “I'm sorry. Just tell me your name. I already told you mine.” “Nyx… Nyx Knight.” He smiled warmly at her. His body itched him to hug her, he just couldn't say the word. “Okay. Sleep tight, Nyx Knight,” he winked and left. “Don't come back here again, silly…” She looked into the skies, a black raven was watching from the dark shadows, its dark eyes glowing with mischief, but the moment it saw her, it flew away. He never let go, Evander was watching, she knew it.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







