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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NOVA

W hat the actual fuck are you doing?! I shriek at my wolf in my head, my mental voice high-pitched with pure, unfiltered panic.

She doesn’t answer me with words—not right away. Instead, she saunters forward, her movements slow and sinuous, her tail swaying like she’s walking on air. Her every step is unhurried—oh, gods, no, confident —as she approaches his side of the room.

Stop. Right now. Stop! I’m screaming, clawing for control, but she barrels through my protests like a tornado ripping through a meadow.

He’s ours, she purrs, her voice quiet and sultry, curling around my thoughts like smoke. Can’t you feel it? The way his wolf sings for us?

I don’t want him! My words are venomous, barbed, but they bounce uselessly against the iron wall of her certainty.

You don’t, she concedes, her tone almost pitying, but I do. And what I want is what we both need.

Need? We don’t need anything from him except for him to stay the fuck away! I lunge for control again, trying to shove her down, but it’s like grappling with air. My wolf is too strong, too rooted in instinct and want.

This is what I was afraid of. A monster taking control.

Sylus’s gaze is fixed on me—or rather, her —and I feel his wolf’s interest like a magnetic pull. I should be mortified. No, I am mortified. But my stupid, traitorous body, overridden by this insatiable animal, feels ... excited .

She prowls closer, her eyes locked on his like a predator who’s just spotted her mate. And gods help me, he doesn’t back away. He’s definitely not our soul bonded mate. I’d know, and she’s only reacting to the fact he’s an alpha. Like she’s a bitch in heat. But she’s not. We’re not.

Don’t you dare. My voice is a plea now, desperate. Don’t even think about it. I will ... I’ll eat nothing but raw vegetables for a year if you don’t let me back in control right now!

My wolf huffs, amused, as she leaps onto his bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of her landing, and she circles once— twice! —before flopping down right in the center of it.

You’re such a liar, she says, her tone teasing. You’d never last a week without meat.

This isn’t about vegetables! I’m practically frothing. Get off his bed! Right now! Before he ? —

She cuts me off by lowering herself, stretching luxuriously before rolling partially onto her side. She’s presenting herself—presenting!—and I’m seconds away from having an aneurysm.

Sylus stiffens, his jaw tightening, and I catch the flash of his wolf in his eyes. His voice is rough when he finally speaks. “Nova.”

Oh, my gods, I’ll have to move. Maybe to Bedlam or Solstice Academy. No, Romarie. Earth! I’ll move to Earth!

He’s going to think this is all me!

Good, my wolf hums, her tail brushing against the sheets as though inviting a lover to bed. Let him see us. Let him want us.

No, no, no, no ? —

But then she leans forward, and her tongue— my tongue —drags across his hand.

The room goes silent. Tai and Callum freeze where they stand. Even Sylus stops breathing for a moment, his horrified stare dropping to his now-glistening hand before snapping back to her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters, his words strangled.

I’m going to kill you, I hiss at my wolf, trembling with rage. I’m going to find a way to dig you out of my soul and throw you into the Void.

But she ignores me, her focus locked entirely on Sylus. She leans closer again, this time aiming for his forearm, and I can feel the wild satisfaction radiating from her as his scent—smoky and woodsy, like a campfire on a crisp night—fills our lungs. The one buried under his cologne and body wash.

He smells amazing, she sighs dreamily, her eyes half-lidded.

Don’t even think it! Don’t you dare ? —

She licks him again, this time his wrist, and my soul shrivels into a little ball of shame.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tai snaps as he grabs Callum by the arm. “We’re going to find someone who actually knows how to deal with this.”

Callum doesn’t protest, his face a blend of bewilderment and what looks like poorly concealed frustration as Tai drags him toward the door.

Don’t leave me! You’re who I want! Both of you !

Sylus’s eyes flit to them as they exit the room, but the second the door shuts behind them, his attention swings back to me.

“Novaleigh Drake,” he says again, his tone clipped, the power of an alpha bark behind his words. “Shift. Now.”

Don’t listen to him, my wolf purrs, her tail flicking lazily against the bedspread. He likes us like this. He wants to rut us, can’t you see? Our big alpha will take good care of us, will sink his huge knot into us and hold us all night.

I hate you. I hate you so much.

But the worst part? As much as I want to deny it, as much as I want to pretend I don’t feel anything ... I like the way he smells, too. And his skin? His taste? Warm and rich and utterly addictive .

And I hate that even more.

My wolf stretches sumptuously on his bed, basking in the overwhelming presence of his scent. It clings to the sheets, the mattress, everything —a heady mixture of wild woods and musk, so fucking intoxicating, amplified by the fact that it’s his . My wolf can’t get enough.

He smells like home, she murmurs, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

We have a home, you harlot! And it’s not here! Get off his bed before I ? —

She rolls onto her back, paws tucked to her chest, her body moving with languid ease. Her eyes never leave his face, even as she twists, stretching out again, pressing deeper into his bedding. I can feel the soft fabric under our fur, the warmth of it wrapping around us.

And that scent ... gods, it’s inescapable.

What are you doing? I demand, horrified.

Claiming, she says simply, rubbing her head against the pillow. Her tail sweeps side to side, stirring the faintest hint of him into the air. If we’re going to stay here, we need him to know we’re his. And more importantly, he’s ours.

We’re not staying here! And we are not his!

She snorts, as if the very idea is laughable, and presses her face into the sheets again. I can feel the soft texture against my muzzle, the deep, soothing warmth of his scent that’s starting to mingle with ours. It’s on our fur now—his essence woven into ours like roots in the soil.

Oh, gods, I whisper internally, but even that’s drowned out by my wolf’s unrelenting glee.

Sylus is frozen in place, his shoulders stiff, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His jaw works like he’s trying to swallow something he’d rather spit out. His wolf is right there, too—just beneath the surface, prowling, watching , hungry . I can feel it, as surely as if it were circling me in the wild, taking measure of the offering laid bare before him.

And then it happens. His scent changes—the difference slight, but enough that my wolf notices. Her ears perk up, her head lifting, and I want to die on the spot when I realize why.

Pheromones.

He wants us, she hums, pleased. Can’t you smell his bedding? He’s come all over himself right here, so many times, to so many thoughts. All that time he’s spent thinking about us ? —

Don’t you dare finish that sentence! I snarl, raking at the walls of my mind. I swear to the gods, if you so much as ? —

She doesn’t finish the thought aloud, but I don’t have to hear the words to know what she means. My nose catches the faintest hint of something more potent, something distinctly male , and I want to throw myself into the Void and never come out.

“Oh, fuck no,” Sylus mutters. His wolf is pressing harder now, clawing at his control. “Get off the bed, Novaleigh.”

His words are clipped, each one laced with an edge of panic. His hands twitch at his sides, as if he’s not sure whether to push me off or run.

My wolf ignores him completely. She rolls onto her side, shifting against his sheets, this time burying her nose against the pillow.

He smells like he was thinking about us, she murmurs slyly. Mmm, yes. Fucking his fist to the thoughts of us.

Oh, gods, stop. Please stop.

“Nova!” Sylus’s voice is sharper now, more desperate, and for the first time, there’s a rawness to it that makes even my wolf hesitate. He takes a half-step forward, his nostrils flaring, his wolf battling harder for dominance. “If you don’t shift back right now, I?—”

His words cut off as my wolf does the unthinkable: she licks his pillow, dragging her tongue across it in one slow, deliberate motion.

I am going to die. Right here, right now, I am going to combust and cease to exist.

Sylus’s breath hitches. His hands flex, his knuckles white, and his wolf snarls .

“Nova,” he growls, his voice breaking on the word. “Stop.”

Make me, she challenges, her eyes glowing with wicked satisfaction as she locks gazes with him.

Sylus’s wolf surges to the surface, and for one terrifying, electrifying moment, I think he’s going to shift, too.

“Enough!” he barks, his voice thunderous, his command rippling through the air like a lash. His scent floods the space, alpha and overwhelming, and my wolf shivers under its weight. But instead of cowering, she presses closer into his scent, rubbing her cheek along the sheets like she can’t get enough. Marking it.

This is how it should be, she whispers, her tone soft and yearning. He’s strong. He’s ours. And we’re his.

No, we’re not! We’re not anyone’s!

But even as I scream it, I feel the barest hint of doubt. Of longing.

Because for all the ache inside me, for all the shame and rage and desperation to be anywhere else, there’s no denying the primal truth clawing at my chest.

He does smell good. Better than good. Better than anything. And his presence, his wolf, his everything ... it calms the storm.

Stupid fucking alpha .