The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 171

Chapter 171

Aurora

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He shook his head, jaw tight. “I meant every word that came after. The ones I didn’t say.”

I stared at him. “Then say them.”

He closed the remaining distance between us–slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he should. His height forced me to tilt my head up.

“If I tell you,” he said quietly, “you’ll look at me differently.”

“Try me.”

His throat worked once, but no sound came. His hands clenched, unclenched. And then, finally-

“I can’t,” he said again, softer this time. “You just have to believe that I had a reason.”

The words hit something in me that wasn’t anger–something closer to ache.

“I believed in you once,” I whispered. “And you broke me with it.”

He stepped closer before I could pull away. His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw, his touch tentative but warm. “And I’ve been paying for it every day since.”

The air between us felt fragile–like one wrong move could shatter it.

I should’ve stopped him. I didn’t.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Tell me to walk away,” he said.

I shook my head.

He didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, he leaned in–close enough that I could feel the catch of his breath against my lips, hot and uneven. His mouth covered mine, soft at first, testing. But the second I sighed into him, his restraint shattered.

The kiss turned filthy. His tongue swept deep, stealing the air from my lungs, and I clawed at his shoulders as heat flooded between my thighs. His hands slid down, gripping my hips hard enough to mark as he dragged me flush against him. The thick press of his cock strained against his jeans, relentless, and a whimper tore from my throat when he ground against me in one slow, deliberate

roll.

“F**k,” he rasped against my mouth, his voice wrecked. “You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

I could feel it–the slickness soaking through my panties, the ache building with every rough stroke of his tongue. His fingers skimmed under my shirt, tracing the curve of my waist, dipping just beneath the waistband of my jeans. He didn’t go further. Just teased. Just knew. And it was enough to make my knees tremble.

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12:15 Thu, Jan 29 BGB.

Chapter 171

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His bath was uneven, his voice barely a whisper.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You always say that,” I murmured. “And you always do it anyway.”

He let out a shaky breath, half laugh, half something that hurt. “Because I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.”

He closed his eyes like that alone might break him. “You don’t understand, Aurora.”

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“Then help me.”

“I can’t.” His hand dropped from my face, curling into a fist at his side. “If I tell you, you’ll be next. And I’d rather lose you than let

that happen.”

I stared at him, the weight of the words settling between us. “You’re not making any sense.”

He forced a small, broken smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s the point.”

The taste of him was still on my tongue when the sound came–a soft crunch outside, too close to be the wind.

Zayn went still. The knife was back in his hand before I even registered the movement.

“Kael?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

The footsteps stopped right outside the door.

Zayn turned the lantern down, plunging the room into a thin shadow His voice was barely a breath. “Stay behind me.”

The latch creaked.

As the door began to open, I realized his hand was trembling.

The door swung wider, groaning against its hinges.

Zayn’s arm shot out in front of me, knife steady in his grip. The flickering lantern light caught the faint outline of a figure in the

doorway.

“Kael?” I tried again.

The man in the threshold didn’t respond.

He stood there in the half–light–same height, same stance. His voice when it came, was almost right.

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Chapter 171

Almost.

“Aurora?”

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It sounded like Kael–but softer, flatter. Like someone remembering how his voice should sound.

Zayn went rigid. “That’s not him.”

My pulse jumped. “What?”

He didn’t look back at me. “Step away from the door.”

The thing pretending to be Kael took a step forward. Its boots made no sound on the wood. The light reached its face, and my stomach twisted.

It was him–but wrong. His eyes too pale. Skin too smooth, stretched over something that didn’t quite fit. And when he smiled, it didn’t touch his eyes.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s just me.”

The voice cracked mid–sentence, splitting in two before knitting itself back together.