All Chapters of Sinful Affairs (MM Erotica collection): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Aurelius’s POV The moon pulled at me like a physical force, a tide in my blood that had been building all day. My skin felt too tight, my bones aching with the need to shift. The wolf was pacing beneath my skin, restless and eager, barely contained. And through it all, I was hyperaware of Ivan beside me, his hand in mine as we walked through the grounds toward the private section of the estate. The farthest corner from the main house, where trees grew thick and wild, where no one would hear or see what happened tonight. “How does it feel?” Ivan asked, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “The moon.” “Like I’m being pulled apart and put back together.” I could feel my teeth sharpening, my nails lengthening into claws. “Like every cell in my body is screaming to change.” “Does it hurt?” “The pull? No. That’s just… insistent. The actual transformation?” I squeezed his hand. “That hurts like hell.” We reached the clearing I’d used for years far enough from the house that my howl

Aurelius’s POV Six months later I woke to the sound of Ivan’s heartbeat and the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows. Six months since I’d bitten him. Six months since everything had changed. I turned my head to watch him sleep, still amazed every morning that he was here. That he was mine. His dark hair was messy, fanned across the pillow. His face was relaxed in sleep, peaceful in a way he never quite managed while awake. And on his throat, barely visible now but still there if you knew where to look, was the bite mark that had changed everything. My mate. My wolf. My forever. Through the bond, I could feel his contentment, his dreams pleasant and untroubled. Could feel the wolf inside himstill new, still learning, but strong and healthy and perfectly integrated with who Ivan was. He’d taken to being a werewolf like he’d been born to it. The transformation had been complete three days after the bite, and his first shift during the full moon two wee

Mateo’s POV My pen snaps between my fingers. Across the conference table, Promise is dismantling my Q2 projections with surgical precision, and all I can think about is how devastating he looks when he’s destroying my work. “The Southeast Asian expansion relies on regulatory approvals that haven’t been secured,” Promise says, his eyes flicking to mine for half a second before returning to Marcus Sterling. “Mr. Reyes’s numbers assume best-case scenarios. The risk analysis is fundamentally flawed.” I lean forward, keeping my voice level. “Conservative projections mean stagnation. Mr. Chen would have us playing it safe while our competitors take the market share we’re leaving on the table.” What the room doesn’t see: the way Promise’s knuckles whiten on his portfolio. The slight hitch in his breathing when I say his name. The fact that eight hours ago, my palm was pressed against glass opposite his, and I’ve thought of nothing else since. Marcus clears his throat. “Perhaps you two s

Mateo’s POV I wake up in Mateo’s bed with his arm draped across my waist and immediately think: I’ve ruined everything. Sunlight slants through unfamiliar blinds. The sheets smell like him, that scent I’ve been noticing for months, now all over my skin. His breathing is steady against my shoulder blade, still asleep, and I should feel content. Satisfied. Something other than this creeping dread. Instead, I’m calculating. Six AM. If I leave now, I can shower at home, make it to the office by seven-thirty. Early enough that no one will notice I’m wearing yesterday’s suit. Mateo’s arm tightens around me. “I can hear you thinking.” “I have to go.” I start to sit up, but he pulls me back down. “Promise.” His voice is rough with sleep. “Look at me.” I turn. In the morning light, he’s unfairly beautiful, hair messed from my hands, lips slightly swollen, eyes warm and unguarded. My chest constricts. “This was a mistake,” I say. His expression shutters. “Was it?” “We work together. D

Samuel’s POV The envelope arrived on a Tuesday, unmarked except for my name in an elegant script I didn’t recognize. Inside was a single sentence: Return to the Kovar estate before the autumn moon wanes. There was no signature, no explanation. Just coordinates I hadn’t thought about in fifteen years. I told myself I wouldn’t go. I had a life now; respectable, predictable, and safe. But by Thursday I was on a plane to Cluj-Napoca, and by Friday evening I was driving a rented sedan up roads that narrowed with each passing mile, winding through forests that seemed to lean inward, listening. The Kovar estate materialized from the dusk like something surfacing from deep water. Its Gothic silhouette stood against a bruised sky, all sharp angles and shadows. I parked beside another car; a black Mercedes with Vienna plates and felt my pulse quicken. I knew that car, or one like it. The front door opened before I could knock. “Samuel.” David stood backlit in the doorway, older but unmi