Chapter 42 Wolf boy knot
Nyxara
I woke up to the heavy weight of a wolf’s arm pinning me to the bed and the thick, musky scent of last night’s mistake clinging to every inch of skin.
Fuck. My. Life.
My head throbbed—part hangover from the curse-breaking marathon, part sheer regret. Every muscle south of my waist ached in a way that would’ve been delicious if it didn’t come with the seven-foot reminder currently breathing slow and steady against my neck. His palm was splayed possessively across my bare stomach, fingers curled like he’d claimed territory in his sleep. My traitorous tail had—sometime in the night—wrapped itself around his thigh like a gods-damned ribbon.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I froze, stared at the obsidian ceiling, and ran through every exit strategy I’d ever used. Slip out slow. Grab clothes. Vanish into the vents. Leave a sarcastic note if I was feeling generous. Standard protocol for morning-afters I never intended to have.
Except my body wouldn’t move.
Because the bastard was warm. Because his heartbeat was steady and strong against my spine. Because the ache between my legs still pulsed with the memory of his knot and I hated how good it felt.
Get it together, Nyx.
I shifted—just a fraction—testing the weight of his arm. It tightened instantly. A low, sleepy growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my back. He pulled me closer, nose burying deeper into my hair, inhaling like I was his personal drug.
My stomach flipped.
No. Nope. Not doing this.
I twisted sharply, shoving at his arm. “Get off me, wolf.”
The growl cut off. His eyes opened—molten gold in the pale morning light filtering through the high window. He didn’t move his arm. Just looked at me, hair tousled, fangs peeking, scars catching the light like some feral god who’d decided to keep me as a pet.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep and something that sounded dangerously satisfied.
I snorted. “Yeah, morning. Move.”
He didn’t. His thumb traced a lazy circle on my stomach, right over the faint bruises his fingers had left last night. “You slept hard.”
“Pretty sure you fucked me unconscious,” I snapped, shoving harder. “Congratulations. Now let go.”
His eyes narrowed—just a flicker—but the arm stayed. “You didn’t complain at the time.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I ignored it. “I was fixing your little curse problem. Transaction complete. Time to unwrap the succubus and let her leave.”
Something dark flashed across his face. He propped himself up on one elbow, still caging me with his body. “Transaction.”
“That’s what I said.” I met his stare, tail lashing against the sheets. “Don’t pretend you thought it was anything else. You were dying, I rode you back to health. We’re even. Get off.”
He studied me for a long second—too long. Then, slowly, he lifted his arm.
I rolled away fast, scrambling off the bed like it was on fire. My legs wobbled—traitors—and I had to grab the post to stay upright. Slick still coated my thighs, a humiliating reminder. I snatched his discarded shirt from the floor, yanked it over my head. It hung to mid-thigh and smelled like him. Perfect. Exactly what I didn’t need.
He sat up fully now, sheets pooling at his waist, watching me with that unreadable beta stare. Muscles flexed as he leaned back against the headboard, all casual power. His cock was already half-hard again—morning wood or leftover obsession, I didn’t care.
“You’re running,” he said quietly.
“I’m leaving,” I corrected, voice sharp. “Big difference.”
I hunted for my panties—shredded somewhere in the wreckage of last night—and settled for grabbing my leather pants off the chair. I shoved one leg in, hopping to keep balance.
He didn’t move to stop me. Just kept watching.
“You think this was just a cure?” he asked.
I barked a laugh—ugly, loud. “What else would it be, Eryx? You think one night of decent dick and I’m ready to play house with the Alpha’s loyal lapdog? Newsflash—I fuck for a living. You were a job. A sweaty, overgrown, curse-ridden job.”
His jaw flexed. The gold in his eyes flared.
Good. Let it sting.
I zipped the pants, snatched my top—also ripped—and tied it in a knot under my breasts. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who lost control in a dream, begged like a pup, then nearly died because your precious discipline couldn’t handle a little succubus venom. I saved your ass. You’re welcome.”
I turned for the door.
His voice stopped me cold.
“You’re lying.”
I spun back. “Excuse me?”
He was off the bed in a heartbeat—naked, unashamed, stalking toward me slow. I backed up on instinct until my spine hit the wall. He didn’t touch me. Just loomed, heat rolling off him in waves.
“You’re lying,” he repeated, softer. “You didn’t do it for charity. You wanted it. Wanted me. And you’re scared shitless because of it.”
I laughed again—mean this time. “Oh, please. Listen to yourself. The curse is still rattling around in that thick skull, isn’t it? Making you see things that aren’t there. Get your ass together, Beta.”
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t rise to it. Just stood there, fists clenched at his sides.
“You can keep telling yourself that,” he said. “But I felt you. Every time you came. Every time you screamed my name. That wasn’t duty.”
My tail snapped like a whip. “It was biology. Succubus. Wolf in rut. Basic math. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He stepped closer—one more inch and we’d be touching. His scent flooded me—pine, steel, sex—and my body responded before my brain could stop it. Nipples tight. Thighs clenching.
I hated him for it.
“Keep running, Nyx,” he said, voice low. “But you know where to find me when the lie stops working.”
I shoved past him—hard—shoulder checking his chest. He didn’t budge, but he let me pass.
I yanked the door open, paused just long enough to throw over my shoulder:
“Don’t hold your breath, wolf. I’ve got better things to do than play fetch with a cursed beta who thinks one fuck equals forever.”
Then I slammed the door behind me.
The hallway was cold. Quiet. My bare feet slapped against stone as I stormed away, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it through the walls.
I told myself I didn’t care.
Told myself it was just sex.
Told myself I wasn’t already calculating how long I could stay away before the ache between my legs—and the one in my chest—forced me back.
Liar, the bond whispered.
Shut the fuck up, I snarled back.
And kept walking.
Fast.
Because if I slowed down even for a second…
I might turn around.
And I wasn’t ready to admit what that would mean.