All Chapters of The Female Alpha's Human Mate : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

38 Chapters

21. His Pain

~NYRA~ “And the shelves still haven’t arrived, Stella?” I ask, looking over the nursery — toys scattered across the floor, wooden blocks underfoot, cloth dolls slumped against the walls. Nothing has a place. “No, Nyra,” she says, her voice almost guilty. “Call the dealer. Tell him I want them here by evening.” “I did. He said he has some work—” “Stella.” My voice cuts her off. “We ordered them a week ago. Whatever work he has, it can wait. Deliver what we paid for first.” She gives me that helpless look again — wide eyes, soft mouth. I don’t soften. She sighs and reaches for the phone. If everyone in this pack became like her, the territory would crumble into dust. Then— Pain. It spears through my ribs. Sharp. Sudden. I gasp. “Ah—” Breath rips halfway in and stops. Hand clamping my side, I stagger back. The heat twists deep under my skin, grinding into bone and muscle. I grip the edge of the nearest table, steadying myself against the pain. “I got throug

22. Soulmates

~ETHAN~ Pain shreds through me, sharp and relentless. My side burns, ribs aching like they’re about to split open. I taste copper in my mouth, heart hammering against my chest. Consciousness drags me under and back again. Something beeps beside me, slow and steady, proof I'm still alive. My eyes open a fraction. Light spears through my skull. White ceiling. Blurred edges swimming together. The strong smell of antiseptic and medicine hit me next. Hospital. So they brought me here. These monsters had it in them to? If I'm at a hospital, I'm away from that forest. I try to move, pain stops me immediately. Moving is impossible. So my eyes do the work. That’s when I see her. Nyra. She's slumped forward in a chair pulled too close to the bed, arms folded on the mattress. Her cheek rests against them, hair spilling loose around her face, dark strands tangled against her skin. There's a faint crease between her brows, even in sleep. Like she's still fighting something — argui

23. Recovery Speed

~NYRA~ "It's been a week, Aunt. He doesn’t need it anymore." "Oh, he’s still healing," Aunt Leah says, pressing the food container into my hands. "He needs more nutrients than us, Nyra. Make sure he eats." "I don’t have time to feed him, Aunt. I won’t even be visiting—" The words stop short. Too late. Her eyes narrow, sharp with disbelief. "What do you mean you won’t be visiting?" I snatch the container from her hands. "I’ll deliver it." Before she can say anything else, I’m already moving. My footsteps echo through the packhouse halls, quick and hard, adrenaline burning through my legs. The antiseptic smell stings sharp in my nose, but I barely notice it. I reach his door and yank it open. "Eat this. I’ll have someone collect—" "Ethan." My voice falters. The bed is empty. Where the hell did he go? Teeth gritting, I spin— —and there he is. Leaning against the doorframe like he’s been there the whole time, arms crossed, eyes sharp. That infuriating smir

24. A Question

~ETHAN~ “Then make sure you're not standing in front of me when it does.” Her steps halt instantly. Her hands curl into fists. Slowly, she turns. Not just anger — something tighter burning behind her eyes. “Bold of you to assume I'd save you.” “Experience.” Her jaw locks, gaze dragging over me — slow and deliberate. A muscle ticks in her neck. “Next time,” she grits out, “when a wolf tears you apart, I won't be there.” “Good.” I nod once. Her lips flatten. She turns and walks off without another word, and I'm left staring at the space she left behind a second too long. That went further than I meant it to. Next time. Her words echo. Better death than owing her. --- Nyra stops outside a low two-row building and pushes the door open without knocking. Warm air slips past her — faintly sweet, heavy with the smell of milk and herbs. She steps inside. I follow. And stop cold. Babies. Small ones — barely a year or two old. Nearly ten of them, rolling

25. Her Walls

~ETHAN~ “Fine,” she says at last. “Ask.” For a second, I hesitate. I shouldn’t. I need to know. “Where did those children come from?” Her brows draw together. “What?” My jaw tightens, and before I can stop myself, I lean closer, my breath brushing her lips. “Whose children are they, Nyra?” Her eyes narrow — Then her gaze snaps into mine like a blade. “Ethan Cross!” she growls. Green floods her eyes — fast, violent, alive. “Do you even hear what you’re implying?!” “I just need an answer.” My fingers tighten around her hand. Her jaw locks. For a moment she only breathes, slow and steady. Then the green in her eyes recedes. “They’re pack children,” she says flatly, wrenching her hands free. “What?” I stare at her confused. “But they’re humans.” “They’re werewolves.” “No.” I shake my head. “Werewolf children should be… wolves. Small ones. With paws and fur.” “You’re a fucking idiot.” “Then why can you turn into wolves but they don't?” “We s

26. Different

~NYRA~ “Come in.” Uncle Daniel’s Alpha voice rumbles from behind the door, low and commanding. I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening on the handle. Whatever he’s called me here for, I already know it won’t go well. I push the door open and step in. His office. His authority. His rules. Suffocating—yet familiar. “Nyra,” he says, calm but simmering with authority. “Sit.” “Uncle.” I slide into the chair opposite him, palms pressed against the polished oak. Reports lie in neat piles to one side, pens scattered around them, the faint scent of old parchment and ink hangs in the air. “Mind explaining these to me?” He tosses a sheet onto the desk, the paper landing with a thud that makes my stomach knot. I glance down and my fingers immediately curl under the table. To Alpha Rowan… my reports. How the fuck did he get his hands on them? “Nyra.” His voice tightens. “These are the reports I submitted to the council,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but my pulse

27. Trust

~NYRA~ “I came,” he says, voice rougher now, “to apologize.” The words fall between us. And for one impossible moment, my heart forgets how to beat. I just stare at him. For a moment I’m not even sure I heard him right. Then I laugh. The sound cuts out of me before I can stop it—sharp, brittle, scraping the back of my throat on the way out. “You came all the way here,” I say, straightening to face him fully, “to apologize?” Ethan doesn’t move, just stands there, steady as stone. “Yes.” The word lands so quietly it takes a second to register. “Let me guess,” I say, my voice turning sharp. “You showed up here and realized this is the only way you’re getting out alive.” “No.” The calm answer lands like a stone dropped into still water. No fear. No defensiveness. Just… certainty. My eyes narrow, I take a slow step towards him. The distance between us shrinks. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. A beat of silence stretches between us. Then— “To

28. Duty vs Heart

~NYRA~ "Coffee?" Aaron asks, the moment he steps in. The rich aroma of coffee drifts from the mug in his hands. I slide my chair back, feeling the smooth floor under my feet, and reach for it. Steam curls upward, brushing my fingers as I lift the cup—warmth seeping into my palms. He doesn't sit on the desk or chair like usual, and leans against the window rail. His own mug is clasped loosely in one hand, eyes flicking to my lap. "Rapid regeneration," he reads, brow raised. "Expanding my knowledge," I shrug, curling my fingers around the hot cup. He shakes his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Of course.” The first sip of his coffee hits me like a jolt of warmth, bitter and rich, curling across my tongue. I sink into my chair with a long sigh, shoulders loosening with each slow swallow. Steam drifts from the cup, brushing my fingers, carrying the scent of roasted beans. "Good?" "Could be better," I say, tilting the mug for another careful sip. He snorts, eyes

29. Race in Rain

~ETHAN~ My hands hover over the handle of my door, the same dim stairwell light flickering beside the entrance. Nothing about it has changed. It looks exactly the way it always has—ordinary, forgettable. But something about it doesn’t sit the same. Her car is somewhere out there, abandoned near the woods where I left it. The files and sketches are tucked securely under my belt, though I don’t really need them. I know what’s in them. I’ve gone over every detail enough times to recite half of it from memory. If I wanted, I could hand everything over to Joan and let him deal with it. But I don’t. Not yet. I push the door open. The air inside is stale, closed off too long, a thin layer of dust settling over everything. The curtains hang half-drawn, and the table sits exactly as I left it—cluttered with files and loose papers, untouched. I lock the door behind me and pause, letting my gaze move across the room out of habit. Windows. Corners. Entry points. Nothing’s shifted

30. Against Myself

~ETHAN~ I don’t need to see. The moment those headlights don’t waver—I know how this ends. It was her race in the rain. Nyra. Her boots hit the road—hard, steady—cutting through rain. My bike’s alarm keeps blinking somewhere to the side—useless, distant—but her steps land heavier than anything else. Louder. Closer. I push up on one arm— Pain tears through my shoulder—deep, jagged. "Fuck—" My elbow buckles. Vision dips, black creeping in at the edges. I drag in a breath— And it catches at my ribs. I try again. Same sharp pull. I hold it there, jaw tight, waiting for it to ease. It doesn’t. I force my head up. Rain hits my face instantly, running into my eyes, blurring everything into streaks of light and shadow. Sound flattens into the steady pound of water and the uneven pull of my own dragging breath. Then she steps into the headlights. And everything sharpens. Silhouette first—then her. Standing there like the rain doesn’t touch her. Like none of this slows her dow

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