All Chapters of Too Human To Be His: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I couldn’t help but feel grateful to Lena for all the things she once told us about werewolves. Back in our college days, some of my friends started dating guys with beastly instincts, and the brunette would often share useful tips and warnings. One of the most valuable pieces of advice? How to knock out a werewolf without breaking a sweat.I remembered that self-defense lesson all too well when Bastian cornered me in the hallway.I didn’t know exactly what he wanted from me—or how far he was planning to go to “get back” at me for the mop incident—but the hunger in his eyes as they lingered on my neckline and the predatory smirk on his face gave me a pretty good idea.I wasn’t about to wait and find out just how far he was willing to go. I acted fast, applying pressure to two specific points on his body—pressure points Lena had taught us could bring even the most aroused werewolf crashing down.The trick was to press them both simultaneously. Miss one, and the whole thing wouldn’t wor

I stand there for a few more minutes, completely frozen, lost in a haze of numbness and despair, staring blankly at nothing.It feels like someone ripped a massive chunk straight out of my chest—raw and bleeding, without any kind of anesthesia.Finally, I force my legs to move, carrying me slowly toward the kitchen to return the empty tray.Empty—just like my soul.Back in my room, the crushing pressure in my throat only worsens. It wraps around my neck like a vice, and no matter how hard I try to shake it off, it only tightens more and more.I fumble at the collar of my uniform, pulling it open to breathe—but it doesn't help.I’m suffocating.Suffocating from the pain.Tears begin to fall freely, carving burning paths down my cheeks. Still, I can’t seem to catch a proper breath. My lungs feel tight, like they’re refusing to draw in air.Desperate, I strip out of my clothes and drag myself to the bathroom, stepping into the shower.I twist the knob all the way to cold and let the icy

“What did you do?!” Lena gasped, her eyes wide with shock. I had left the Alpha’s house in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to go home—showing up unexpectedly in this state would only scare Tanya. I didn’t go to Jasmine and Max either; they had a baby, and I didn’t want to burden their peaceful home with my drama. So, I went to the Alerco family instead. Maybe it was selfish, but I desperately needed someone to talk to—someone who could help me make sense of this half-bond mark. And honestly, there’s no one better for that than them. Without asking any questions, Lena let me in with quiet understanding. She sent Artyom off to bed, saying we had “women’s matters” to discuss. After preparing a calming herbal tea, we sat together in her warm, cozy kitchen, and I finally told someone everything. From the moment I first met Wayland to what had just happened… I didn’t hold back a single detail. I had never shared it with anyone before. And as the words poured out, I felt just a l

Alpha Wayland Reyrem: No matter how much Alina tried to play stubborn and pretend nothing happened with Bastian, I could see right through it. I didn’t need her to say a word. The scent of that idiot on her skin was all I needed. It made the blood in my veins boil. I had no idea how she managed to knock him out cold, but she did. And I respected that. Still, the very idea of him laying his hands on her… The next day, when I saw the bastard heading up to his room, I stopped him. “Bastian,” I said quietly, deliberately. Just a small touch of alpha mental pressure laced my tone—enough to make him wince in pain. “Didn’t I warn you about touching my staff?” I growled, this time intensifying my mental dominance. He clutched his head, buckling under the force of it, gritting his teeth in agony. I didn’t care. He deserved worse. “If I ever—ever—smell your foul scent on her again,” I snarled, staring him down with raw aggression, “I won’t care whose son you are.” Bastian whimpered and

Letting Randaya into the room, I watched her closely, intrigued. She walked into my bedroom with surprising confidence, placing the strawberries and glasses on the dresser, then handed me the champagne bottle, silently asking me to open it. “Is there a special occasion?” I asked, my eyes drifting slowly over the flawless curve of her waist. “We’ll see,” she replied mysteriously, casting a brief, flirtatious glance before lowering her eyes in a teasingly shy way. I popped the cork and poured the sparkling liquid into two glasses, handing her one. She accepted it gracefully, taking a few slow sips before picking up a strawberry. Biting into it—deliberately, erotically—she sent me a signal that couldn’t be misread. “Won’t your father mind what you’re planning to do here tonight?” I smirked, circling her slowly. This girl… she was clearly more of a dark horse than I had expected. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Randaya said with a theatrical twist in her voice and a litt