Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Female Alpha's Human Mate : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

~NYRA~ He leans in… closing the only gap between us. And then I feel him — hard, undeniable. The world slams still. A jolt surges through me — heat, anger, hunger — all at once. My breath stutters. My instinct roars. I wrench free, twisting out of his grip with force and fury, stumbling as my back hits the shower wall. I need this distance to breathe again. Without looking at him, I snatch the towel, wrap it around myself, and step away—putting inches, air, sanity between us. Only then do I look back. Ethan stands there, chest heaving, hair dripping into eyes that are dark and reckless and still hungry with something he doesn’t understand. Steam coils around him like it’s trying to drag him back toward me. I shut that possibility down with a single breath. “Don’t try that again.” My voice is crisp, steady, unshaken despite everything burning under my skin. And I walk out, leaving him in the heat, in the chokehold of almost, in the moment neither of us will

~NYRA~ “What took you this long—” The words never make it out. They die the second the window slides open, and I’m hit by a strong wave of earth and smoke. Him. Not Aaron. Bare skin meets the dawn’s cold—his chest pale in the low blue light, hair tousled like sleep tried and failed to claim him. Yet his eyes are sharp. Too focused. Awake in a way that has nothing to do with morning. The ledge beneath my boots is cold, slick with early dew. I don’t move. Can’t. One wrong shift and I’d slip—down the stone, into the quiet below. Or closer. The wind cuts through me, threading under my jacket, raising goosebumps along my arms. It smells like pine, damp earth, and—unmistakably—him. My fingers curl instinctively against the stone. My pulse stutters, loud in my ears, racing down my spine and into my hands. For a breathless second, the world narrows to the space between us—the open window, the cold air, the thin line of control I’m gripping like the edge of the ledge itself. And I

~NYRA~ "This is a training ground!!” A feral growl tears through the air. We break apart instantly—like touching burned. Knox stands a few feet away, eyes bloodshot and locked on Ethan. His beta aura rolls off him in thick waves, but it does little to the human in front of him. “Knox,” I call. His chest rises and falls as he forces a deep breath. Then he looks at me, and my heart shutters. The hatred in his eyes—raw, unfiltered—hits harder than any blow. My feet retreat on instinct, guilt crashing over me before I can stop it. “Alpha,” he grits out, voice hollow. Cold. “Knox, I—” “This is a training ground,” he cuts in sharply. “Everyone is expected to respect that.” His gaze hardens. “I assume that rule applies to you too, Alpha.” Then, quieter. Sharper. “Or your mate.” “Don’t make senseless assumptions,” I say. “Senseless?” His brow arches. “What’s senseless is you’re in the middle of a training ground, fucking him—” “Knox Carter!” My growl slams into hi

~ETHAN~ I turn—just as a hand clamps down on my shoulder. One I recognize before my mind catches up. Nyra. She emerges from behind me, her hand moving downward, stopping lightly at my elbow—deliberate, claiming. The press of her fingers is faint, but enough to anchor me. The chatter dies. Utensils hover mid-air. Plates tremble. Every chair seems frozen. Eyes no longer wander. "Why," she asks quietly, voice calm, precise, weighty, "is my mate standing?" Metal scratches. Chairs scrape against stone, plates clink sharply—and an entire table empties as if it had never existed. The room exhales without anyone needing to say a word. Nyra tilts her head, motioning to the table. I move, seating myself at one end. The bench groans beneath me, loud in the silence. My pulse kicks once, hard — then steadies. This room obeys her presence without a word. A woman glides forward, balancing a plate carefully. Utensils scrape porcelain, clinking like soft drumbeats. Nyra takes the pl

~NYRA~ A knock sounds just as I finish sealing the report to Alpha Rowan’s council. “Come in.” The door opens slowly. Knox steps inside. Head low. My chest tightens. “Knox.” He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t look at me. His hands are clasped behind his back like he’s awaiting punishment. “You need something?” I ask. “No.” He swallows. “No, I came…” His jaw flexes. “I came to apologize.” My spine stiffens. “What?” I gasp. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I overstepped yesterday. I didn’t mean it. But he raised his hands—and I—” His breath falters. “I am sorry.” He thinks he failed me. He thinks defending me was a mistake. Something twists low in my stomach. “Knox,” I say quietly, standing. I walk toward him. “You don’t have to apologize.” His shoulders remain rigid. “It will never happen again.” The crack in his voice is small, barely there. But I hear it. “I know,” I tell him, and I mean it. He nods once, still staring at the floor. I want to lift his chin. To