Acotar Nyx Novels & Stories

Across every screen, in brutal white letters, a message blazed: Tag acquired. Retrieval authorized. Nyxara laughed, a sound that started low and grew wild, edged with something ancient and dangerous. “Oh,” she whispered, soft as snowfall, deadly as a blade in the dark. “So that’s your game.” She straightened to her full height, wiped the blood from her mouth, and let her eyes blaze with the impossible light of her legacy—violet and white, fury and power. “You just made yourselves easy to find.”

Nyx's name on the screen. She answered. Nyx's voice was controlled in the way it was when things were very bad and control was the only tool available. "There have been coordinated attacks tonight on peace advocates. Human and supernatural. I need you to stay exactly where you are and not move until I tell you otherwise." Elara sat up. "Who was hit."

Lynn yelled, dashing into the room but I glared at him, my playful smile vanishing in seconds. “Don’t you dare!” I stared at his feet which had now crossed the door. He froze, shaking from my gaze that bore through him. He then took a step back, turning his face away as color drained from it. It was fear. No matter what, he knew he couldn't overpower me. But then, he wiggled his finger at me, “Stay away from Nyx. I don’t want you touching her. Anything you touch goes bad and turns into ruins. Nyx is not the girl you can ruin.”

It eased a tight place in my chest I had not realised was there. The easing did not last. Nyxara entered the circle like a blade drawn too fast. She was tall, sharp-featured, her power flaring hot and immediate, all dominance and control. Her Beta and mate stood rigid behind her, eyes downcast, bodies taut with obedience rather than loyalty. "Nyxara Veyne," she said, voice carrying easily. "Alpha of the Nightfall Pack."

He looked at her as though she was simply beautiful. Proserpina blinked. And the sudden sense of awareness immediately flowed through every single nerve when his gaze slowly wandered to her body and inaudibly swallowed, licking his lips, clearly liking what he saw. ‘Enough–’ “State your name.” He grinned broadly, appearing absurdly pleased at the chance of having to introduce himself, “Alastor Nyx of the Northern Pack.” Proserpina raised an eyebrow at that. How curious… Alastor Nyx is Ancient Greek that literally means avenger of the night, if translated in typical-tongue.

He turns, his massive frame moving fast as he takes large strides to where his *prisoner* is. Draven watches him. “That’s not suspicious at all,” Nyxar says sarcastically. Draven doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets the shift take place. Muscles tear and rebuild as fur sprouts and bones snap into place. Nyxar's massive form emerges, just as his name suggests, night-born Alpha. He stands tall and proud, his black obsidian coat shimmers in the moonlight. Moving into the shadows, he blends impeccably with the darkness. He follows at a distance. The scent gets closer with each step.

"I bought your contracts. I own your battalion now." Nyx’s golden eyes narrowed. She let out a deep, rumbling growl, kicking her heavy kinetic hammer aside. "You don't own a Kroltan until you break a Kroltan," Nyx sneered, rolling her massive, armored shoulders. "No blasters. No blades. No magic. Just bone and sand." "Deal," Sebastian replied smoothly, his hands resting loosely at his sides. Nyx didn't hesitate. She exploded forward with terrifying, explosive speed for a creature her size. She closed the distance in a fraction of a second, throwing a devastating, wide right hook aimed directly at Sebastian’s head. A blow that could shatter a boulder.

it stings. So I throw it right back. With all the sarcasm and pain I can muster, I snap, “Down, boy. I’m a witch of Hecate. Not a Riding Hood. And this mate thing? I don’t want it either.” He growls. “What’s your name?” “Nyx Laurent,” I say, standing tall. “I, Nathan Lee Swift of the Moon Goddess Pack, reject you, Nyx Laurent, as my mate.” The pain hits, sharp but brief. Pride stings more. I expected worse.

for the weight of a real axe and the scent of a real winter. They stood at the edge of the clearing, their heartbeats a rhythmic, biological drum-roll that echoed Silas’s own. Nyx was at their head, his visor gone, his human eyes—a sharp, clinical grey—reflecting the soft light of the sunset. He wasn't a "Support Cast" anymore; he was a "Neighbor."

Adrian scoffs and I silently commend Atlas for ruffling his feathers. “Anyways, I’m Atlas, alpha of the Black Mist. You must be Araya.” He extends his hand to her, and she takes it smiling. I watch their interaction and realize I’m feeling a bit of jealousy. Why am I so possessive of this wolf? It is beyond me. I will never become one of these lovesick puppies like those around me…