All Chapters of The Female Alpha's Human Mate : Chapter 31 - Chapter 38

38 Chapters

31. No Matter The Cost

~Aaron~ “How the fuck did that human escape!” Dad’s growl tears through the corridor, rattling straight through bone—not just walls. By the time I reach his office, the door hangs half-open. They’re already inside. Gavin, the Beta, stands by the desk—spine locked, gaze cutting through the room like he’s already mapping outcomes, exits, failures. Cole, the Gamma, prowls near the window, pacing in tight, restless lines—coiled, contained, like the only thing stopping him from tearing out the door is the order he hasn’t been given yet. And knowing him— He’s already halfway gone. I knock anyway. Once. “Who the fuck is that?!” “It’s me,” I say, stepping in before he can throw something at the door. It clicks shut behind me. I lean back against it, gaze skimming the cracked edge of his desk. “You’re going to run out of furniture at this rate.” His head snaps up, and the room tightens with it—his gaze locking onto mine, rage simmering just beneath the surface. “WHERE. IS. NYRA.”

32. In Her Hands

~ETHAN~ “Trust me, Ethan,” she whispers. And I do. Against myself, against all the reasons. Because it’s her. I nod—forehead still pressed to hers—feeling her breath leave her in a quiet, fragile exhale that brushes my lips. For a second, neither of us moves. Then my body does. I step back. The space between us feels wrong the moment it exists, cold rushing in where her warmth had been, sharper than the rain that immediately takes its place. I lean against the car’s hood, metal biting through my damp shirt, a dull, grounding cold that barely keeps me steady. Nyra’s hand catches my arm for half a second. Then she’s gone. Already back at the car like nothing in her wavered. Like she didn’t just ask me for the one thing I don't give. Trust her. It sits wrong in my chest. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is the mistake that finally costs— But she isn’t wrong. She won’t be. Will she? My jaw locks as I press my hand harder into my ribs, right over the bandage. Pain flares—sharp,

33. Something To Lose

~NYRA~ The moment the baby slips into my hands, everything else falls away. There’s only this—small, fragile, fighting. A sharp cry breaks from her, thin at first, then stronger, cutting through the rain, filling the space between one breath and the next. Warm and slick against my palms, alive and fighting. I let one of my claws grow, just enough—controlled despite the tremor in my hand, and slice through the umbilical cord. My grip shifts instantly—one hand steady beneath her head, the other drawing her closer. “Meet your baby girl,” I say, turning just enough. The woman smiles—barely there, shaking through the pain—but it’s real. I step out of the car, rain crashing down harder now, soaking through everything as the baby twitches in my hands. I angle her carefully, letting the water wash the blood away in thin red streams that trail down my wrists. Her chest stutters— My grip tightens instantly. Then steadies. Tiny fingers twitch—uncertain—before curling into no

34. Home

~ETHAN~ I wake to the faint sound of birds outside, their calls distant, half-formed through the haze in my head. My eyes open, just enough to see—Nyra. Sitting there, like she owns the space. Always bossy. Something tightens in my chest—not fear, not exactly—but a sharp, unfamiliar mix. Relief. Gratitude. Maybe both. And it hits me how wrong I was...about her. “Finally,” she rasps, when she sees me awake. She adjusts the bed, slides a glass of water toward me. Her fingers linger on the rim for a second longer than necessary before she pulls back. “How do you feel?” she asks, eyes scanning me. “Good,” I say, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. My gaze drifts out the window to the birds perched on the sill—ravens, out of place, perfectly still in the sunlight. “What time is it?” I ask. “Four,” she says, moving to clear the glass and straighten the blankets. I hesitate. “The baby—” “They’re in the maternity ward,” she says, cutting in smoothly. “If you want

35. Touch Me

~ETHAN~ Her hands shoot up, clutching my collar. Then her lips crash against mine—hot, sudden and desperate. For a second, I don’t move. My body locks, every instinct misfiring under the sudden heat of her mouth, the way her fingers fist into my collar like she’s holding on to the only solid thing left. She’s burning. I feel it—through fabric, through skin—heat radiating off her in waves that hit me harder than they should. Her grip tightens on my collar, dragging me closer, her mouth pressing harder. My hand shifts—slides up her spine, pulling her in without thinking. And the realization hits like a crack through my bones. What is she doing? What am I doing? This—her kissing— I pull back instantly. Not far—just enough to break it, enough to drag in a breath that still tastes like her. A soft, broken whimper slips from her—low, unguarded— —and it hits me harder than the kiss ever did. It lands somewhere deep, raw, dragging something in my chest tight and wrong. “Nyra.” My

36. Close Your Eyes

~NYRA~ “Touch me.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. My chest tightens the second they’re out—sharp, choking— No. It hurts. Not just the heat. Not just this want. It starts lower—tight, coiled—and then it twists. The pain folds in on itself, restless, alive, like something trapped under my skin trying to claw free. Every breath drags it tighter, every shift makes it worse—too much, too raw, too there. My body doesn’t feel like mine. It feels— Wrong. I curl into the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric, trying to ground myself in something—anything—but even that betrays me. The friction sends a shiver up my spine, heat flaring hotter, turning into something unbearable. “Ah—!” My back arches off the bed, fingers clawing into his wrist, knuckles whitening as something twists hard inside me. My thighs press together on instinct, trying—failing—to ease the pressure building under my skin. It only makes it worse. Everything’s too sensitive—too sh

37. Just friends

~NYRA~ I wake up still. Not burning. Not shaking. Just… still. For a second, I don’t move. I wait for it—for the heat, the pull, that sharp, crawling need to come back and drag me under again. It doesn’t. My breath leaves me slower this time, controlled, and I sit up, testing it. My body answers the way it should—tight, steady, mine. “Goddess,” I exhale and sit up straight, rolling my shoulders once, forcing the stiffness out before it settles, it pulls in places I ignore and move past, the room is empty, no trace of him. Everything else looks normal—and that pisses me off more than it should. I stand, fixing my clothes fast, not stopping, the fabric drags and I shove it off as I reach the door and grab the handle, holding it tight for a second. He’ll say something—throw it in my fucking face, call me pathetic, brag about the favor he did. No. If he wants to stay alive, he’ll keep his mouth shut. Else I’ll make him. I open the door and step into the hallway, f

38. Punishment

~NYRA~ “Where is that fucking mutt?!” It doesn’t sound like a voice—it hits, a brutal strike straight to the skull. My step falters, just half a beat, but it’s enough. The Alpha command tears through me, raw and merciless, sinking into bone, demanding obedience before thought can even form. My jaw locks. Behind me, Ethan shifts. He didn’t hear it, but he felt it. Everyone did. The corridor has gone too still, the kind of silence that presses against your ears. Omegas straighten as I pass, eyes dropping instantly, but I catch it—resentment buried under fear. I stop at the office door, my hand hovering for a fraction of a second—not hesitation, calculation—before I knock once and push it open as the door slams against the wall. He’s already on his feet, my uncle doesn’t sit when he’s angry. His presence fills the room before his voice does, thick and suffocating, like the air’s been stripped of oxygen. “Finally.” The word cracks like a whip as his gaze slices past me and lo

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