جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 40

Nyxara POVI abandoned every rule I ever lived by for him.And the worst part?I would do it again.___“ You don’t get to walk away after that.”Rowan’s voice was a low growl against my lips, the words vibrating through me, grounding me in the terrifying reality of what I’d just done. My back was against the wall, his body a solid, immovable heat pressing into mine. The kiss—that reckless, consuming surrender—still burned on my mouth. My hands were fisted in his shirt, knuckles white, as if I could either pull him closer or shove him away. I hadn’t decided.The bond between us was a live wire, sizzling and snapping in the scant inch of space separating our bodies. It wasn’t just magic. It was hunger. A deep, primal ache I had sworn I would never acknowledge.I tore my mouth from his, gasping. “That was a mistake.”“The hell it was.” His eyes, a stormy gold, held mine. One of his hands slid from where it pinned my wrist, his fingers tracing a deliberate, burning path down my arm, over

Rowan POVI didn’t just bring danger into our sanctuary.I brought something the world thought was extinct—And then I told my wolves she was mine.The moment I step fully into the clearing, the shift in atmosphere is immediate, tangible in a way that presses against my skin and settles deep in my chest, because this is no longer just a gathering of survivors trying to endure what the world has become, but a pack waiting for its Alpha to speak, to lead, to decide what comes next.Even though the old pack is gone—destroyed piece by piece until there was nothing left but memory and ash—this place, this fragile, hidden sanctuary woven together with magic and willpower and desperation, has become something new, something that still looks to me for direction whether I asked for it or not.And I have never once stepped away from that responsibility.Eyes track me as I move forward, wolves standing in loose formation near the edge of the clearing while the witches remain closer to the tree l

Nyxara POVI have survived for centuries by keeping my secrets.The moment I start telling him the truth—It begins to hurt.I shouldn’t be doing this.Even standing here, with the weight of his gaze fixed on me in a way that feels far too steady, far too patient, far too certain, I know this is already more than I’ve ever allowed anyone to have.More than I should allow.More than I can afford.And yet—I don’t walk away.I don’t vanish.I don’t erase him.Instead, I sit across from him, the space between us small enough that I can still feel the bond humming low and warm beneath my skin, steady now, grounded in a way it never was before him, and I hate that I notice it.Hate that I feel it.Hate that part of me—Doesn’t want it to stop.“You said you wanted the truth,” I say finally, my voice quieter than I intend, but controlled enough that it doesn’t betray the tension tightening in my chest.Rowan doesn’t interrupt.Doesn’t push.Doesn’t rush me.He just watches.Waiting.“I don’

Nyxara POVI’ve walked away from everything in my life.Kingdoms. War. My own kind.So why—Is he the one thing I can’t seem to leave behind?⸻The moment he stops speaking, the silence that follows is not empty, not neutral, but heavy in a way that settles deep beneath my skin, pressing against something I have spent centuries locking away, something I do not allow to surface, something that has no place in the life I have built for myself.And yet—It lingers.Not just his words.Not just the certainty in his voice.But the bond.Stronger now.Steadier.No longer sharp and unpredictable like it was before, but warm, constant, almost grounding in a way that makes something inside me shift in response whether I want it to or not.I hate that.I hate that it feels… right.I turn away from him first.Not because I’m

Nyxara POVI tried to hide what I was.I really did.But the moment I used my power—The witches knew.⸻The moment the magic leaves my hands, I feel it ripple outward farther than I intended, stretching beyond the walls of the sanctuary and brushing against the wards in a way that makes something deep and ancient within them react in kind, like a pulse answering another pulse, like recognition.That—That is the problem.Because this kind of magic doesn’t go unnoticed.Not here.Not anywhere.And especially not by them.My breath catches slightly as the last threads of power settle back into me, not smoothly, not cleanly, but jagged, uneven, like something that was forced through a space too small to contain it, and I feel the strain immediately, sharp and deep, coiling through my chest and down my spine in a way that makes my fingers curl instinctively at my si