All Chapters of Mistaken by fate(the Lycans curse): Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Ronon POV I stood outside Lyra’s door, her muffled sobs seeping through the wood like knives sliding into my chest. I had wanted to hurt her. I had wanted her to feel the sting of rejection, the same torment that lived inside me every day. But hearing her cry—knowing I was the reason—brought me no victory. Only silence and a hollow ache that refused to let me go. “Why?” Her broken voice drifted through the crack beneath the door, so faint it could have been my imagination. But I knew I hadn’t misheard. That single word—laden with grief, confusion, and betrayal—lodged itself deep inside me. She wasn’t asking fate or the goddess. She was asking me. Why was I doing this? Why was I treating her like an enemy, when she had done nothing to earn it? Logic tried to remind me of Malrevok, of the blood spilled by his hands, of the rumors that Lyra herself had been complicit. But deep down, I knew the truth. No evidence had ever proven she was guilty. No written confession had been

Lyra POV I woke to the weight of an arm across my waist and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat that somehow matched my own. For a dizzy second I wondered if I was still dreaming—if last night’s cruelty had been a fevered mirage. The light through the curtains was pale and honest, and when I tilted my head, the silhouette beside me moved. Ronon’s face was close, not hard or watchful as usual, but relaxed, the angles softened by sleep. He opened his eyes and caught me looking. “Alpha Ronon,” I managed, my voice small and automatic. Even here, in the safety of this softened morning, the title felt awkward on my tongue. He smiled—just a small tilt of his mouth—but it was like sun after a long rain. “Lyra,” he said simply. The bitterness I’d come to expect had been scrubbed from his tone; it sounded almost apologetic. For a dizzy moment I felt unmoored, as if reality had shifted under my feet. My first, sensible instinct was to move away. Old lessons had taught me not to trust soft

Lyra’s POV When we finally reached a secluded part of the woods, Ronon set me down gently, as though he was afraid I might shatter. His arms lingered around me longer than necessary, and when he pulled away, I felt the loss immediately, sharp as a cut. Without a word, he began undressing. My eyes widened before I spun away, heat flooding my cheeks. The whisper of fabric against skin, the click of his belt—every sound was louder than it should have been in the quiet forest. A low, amused chuckle rumbled from behind me. “Come on,” he teased, voice husky with a shade of playfulness I wasn’t used to from him. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” I swallowed hard, my blush deepening. His teasing wasn’t cruel, not like the barbed words he had once thrown so freely. Still, I kept my gaze fixed stubbornly on the trees. But something changed. His energy shifted, no longer light or taunting but heavier, thicker—like the forest itself was holding its breath. I fel

Dax POV Ronon’s announcement stunned me. Of all of us, he was the last I expected to accept Lyra. For so long, he’d been consumed by resentment—determined to push her away and make her suffer. Yet here he was, embracing his bond with her… even before Kael or me. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “How?” I asked, disbelief thick in my voice as I let my bag drop to the floor, too shocked to keep holding it. Ronon met my gaze, his expression raw and unguarded. “For the same reason neither of you could let her go,” he said quietly, his honesty disarming. “I realized there’s no point holding a grudge against her anymore. Shadow wouldn’t allow it, and I couldn’t keep fighting the bond.” He paused, his eyes softening as he searched for the right words. “The goddess tied us together for a reason. It’s time I stop punishing myself—and her. I’ve decided to accept Lyra as my mate.” There was something in his tone—steady, almost vulnerable—that gave me pause. I could see the sinceri

Chapter 38: Out With Dax Lyra’s POV Hearing Dax’s voice in my head first thing in the morning was both comforting and thrilling. His tone—deep, teasing, and just a touch playful—tugged at something in my chest, making my pulse quicken before I was even fully awake. The memory of Ronon’s arms around me last night still lingered, wrapping me in warmth, but the anticipation of seeing Dax brought an entirely different kind of flutter. “I’m at your door, Lyra. Open up, or I’ll break it down,” he teased. A laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it. His humor chased away any trace of sleepiness, and I quickly swung the door open. There he stood—Dax in his usual effortless way, somehow managing to look devastatingly attractive in a simple white shirt and faded jeans. The early morning light caught in his hair, and his cinnamon scent mingled with the crisp air and the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the picnic basket in his hand. “Good morning,” I greeted softly, unable