Semua Bab Feral Desires: Bab 81 - Bab 90

CLAUDESHE WAS ALREADY waiting when the car stopped.Ava.Pretty as a painting. Not a hair out of place, makeup soft and pink like innocence still lived on her skin. She stood just a little too close to the door, like she wanted to be the first thing I saw. Like that was supposed to mean something to me.It didn’t.The door opened, and I stepped out. She smiled, soft and sweet, like she had rehearsed it in the mirror.“Claude,” she said, voice breathy like we were lovers, like we weren’t the wreck we always were. Like she wasn’t the reason for everything that had shattered inside me.Her hands were warm when they found mine. Too warm. Too eager.I didn’t grip back.She didn’t care.She tugged my hand with both of hers, pressing it against her stomach. Flat. Smooth. Nothing there yet. Just fabric and skin and something so small, too small to feel, something that had me clenching my jaw because I hated it. Hated her. Hated what she was doing.But she smiled like it was a blessing.“They

CLAUDEI DIDN’T KNOW how long I sat there, staring at the contract in my hand. The words blurred—standard terms, nothing special. Borders. Alliances. Trade agreements. Rules that made sense on paper but meant nothing without real trust.I glanced at the window to see the sun had already dipped below the horizon before looking at the paper again.But it wasn’t the paper that mattered. No, it was what wasn’t written. What Elli had said.Nikolai was alive.That words hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken. My fingers clenched until the edge of the paper crumpled. My chest locked up, pressure building so tight it felt like something would crack—but the air wouldn’t come. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel my lungs. Just that tight, suffocating ache.I dropped the contract on the table and pressed my palms into my eyes, forcing the tears back. A laugh slipped out, low and rough, but it broke halfway through—a sob catching behind it untill it hurt.Because it was real. This was real.I sho

NIKOLAIHIS LIPS PARTED like he wanted to speak. He stepped forward—once, then again—until Ava’s voice cut through like a blade dipped in venom.My gaze snapped to her. Then down—to the swell of her stomach.“What is going on here?” she asked, voice high and trembling, layered in forced confusion. “My mate and I were brought over from our home and…” Her words died mid-sentence.She saw me.Her eyes locked on, widened—recognition like a blade to the gut. She wasn’t looking at a man. She saw the devil. Good. I tilted my head slightly, expression unreadable as I looked at her.“A human is here?” she spat, like the word tasted wrong in her mouth. Her lip curled, and she scanned the room as if the joke would reveal itself.One of the twins—the councilman seated second from the right—arched a brow, unimpressed. “This human brought evidence,” he said crisply. “Of crimes committed against your mate. Verified recordings. Multiple voices. CCTV footage. Including yours.”Ava scoffed, her posture

CLAUDEI DIDN’T REMEMBER how to breathe without him.Not really. Not in a way that made the air feel like something I deserved.But lying here now—beneath him, around him, with his breath brushing mine and his hands moving like they knew every part of me—I finally felt it again.The breathing. The being.His eyes were locked to mine, hands trailing every part of my body like he was afraid to miss an inch. Like he needed to memorize the way I trembled beneath him.“Claude,” he groaned against my lips, lips trailing down my jaw, my neck, kissing and sucking like he needed to taste me again.“Nikolai, please,” I begged, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him flush against me.He didn’t answer with words.Instead, he rose up, arms sliding beneath me in one smooth motion, and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, my cheek pressing against the warm skin of his neck as he carried me. The stairs blurred past us—his scent, his heat, the quiet s

NIKOLAIONE MONTH LATERHe hadn’t moved in five hours.Still in the same chair. Still staring at the same patch of wall like it held a way out of this. His leg bounced with a rhythm that didn’t match the silence in the room. Hands locked so tight they looked like they were fused together. Fingertips pale. Joints tense. Like if he loosened them, he’d fall apart right in front of me.A month ago, he had come into our room and told me he was going to raise the baby.No lead-up. No emotion. He didn’t look at me when he said it. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there in the doorway like a man already defeated.“I think I’m going to raise the baby,” he said.And that was it. No explanation. No plea. Just those words. Delivered flat and empty, like something he’d practiced saying a thousand times alone and hated every second of it.I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. I’d already seen the signs. The baby books shoved under his side of the bed. The way he’d scrolled through newborn care guides a