The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 219

Chapter 219

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AUTOTA

I stopped away from Kael just as Zayn reached us, his jaw tight, his yes locked on me like I was the only thing in the room–and possibly the only thing standing between him and homicide,

“Aurora”

My name rolled off his tongue in that low, dangerous way that men he was trying to stay calm.

I swallowed and slid my hands over his forearms, trying to ground. “Zayn… he’s just a friend”

Zayn’s eyes flicked over my shoulder to Knel, then back to me. His slf was sharp, humorless. “Friends don’t kiss.”

My breath caught.

Of course he’d bring that up.

“That was ” I started.

“Twice?” he cut in, brow lifting, “Yeah, I know,”

I froze. They were stupid, impulsive, confusing moments before my wolf even woke, Moments when I didn’t understand why everything inside me felt wrong unless I was near Zayn.

“Exactly,” I said softly, forcing myself to meet his eyes, “It didn’t men anything. He’s my friend. That’s all he’s ever been.”

Zayn took a slow breath through his nose, his hands sliding to my hips, pulling me just a little closer–close enough that our bodies. almost touched, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like a claim.

“You expect me to believe he thinks of you as just a friend?” Zayn mattered, voice low and edged with jealousy.

“He does,” I insisted.

He didn’t look convinced. At all.

“Aurora, he was looking at you like-“Zayn’s jaw clenched, cutting self off. “And you let him put his hands on you.”

“We were dancing.” I whispered. “Nothing else.”

Zayn’s grip tightened slightly, not painful–just possessive, instinctive. “Your wolf didn’t like it.”

1 opened my mouth to argue, but… he was right. She didn’t like it. Al all

“She’s confused,” I said quietly.

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Chapter 219

“And what about you?” he shot back, eyes burning into mine. “Are you confused too?”

I hesitated.

And Zayn leaned in, his forehead almost touching mine, voice dropping to a whisper meant just for me.

“Because I’m not confused. Not about you. Not for a fucking second.

My breath hitched. My heart felt like it might explode.

Behind Zayn, I saw Kael deliberately looking the other way–giving us space–but also listening just enough to make sure Zayn

didn’t actually snap.

“I’m trying, Zayn,” I murmured. “I’m really trying to figure all of this out.”

His hand slid up my back, warm and steady. “Then start by believing me when I say he’s not just a friend.”

“He is,” I said firmly.

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Zayn arched a brow, leaning in even closer.

“Then why,” he whispered, “does your heartbeat do that-” his fingers brushed my throat, feeling the racing pulse “-every time I

touch you?”

I swallowed hard, unable to answer.

He smirked, victorious, possessive, and absolutely infuriating.

“Thought so.”

The music suddenly faded, dimming into a soft hum, and a spotlight swept across the auditorium. Headmistress Rowenna stepped onto the stage, her velvet midnight robe shimmering under the lights as the crowd slowly settled.

“Alright, students,” she said, her voice warm and commanding, “it’s time to announce this year’s Frostfall Court.”

A ripple of excitement rushed through the room.

Frostfall Court–that’s what they called it here. Every year, the academy crowned a Frostfall King and Queen along with their attendants, chosen by both faculty and student votes.

Rowenna lifted a silver envelope, the edges dusted with enchanted snowflakes that glowed faintly.

“For Frostfall Prince and Princess,” she continued, “representing the second years… please congratulate Alistair Thorn and Evelyn

Marwood!”

The auditorium burst into cheers.

Evelyn–tall, fierce, with fiery copper hair that fell in perfect curls–covered her mouth with her hands before laughing her way to

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Chapter 219

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the stage. Alistair followed, looking every bit the golden boy he was umored to be, third–year girls in the crowd screaming his name

like he was a rockstar.

Beside me, Mira clapped politely while Riven and Lira whooped loud enough to be heard in another building.

Rowenna smiled, waiting for the noise to calm.

“And now,” she said, drawing out the suspense as she opened the second envelope, “your Frostfall Duke and Duchess… from the

third year… Marcus Hale and Juniper Vale!”

Juniper shrieked in delight somewhere to my left, hugging half her friend group before racing toward the stage in a glittering green

gown. Marcus, usually stoic and quiet in classes, actually cracked a grin.

Zayn’s arm brushed mine subtly, like he was reminding himself I was still next to him.

“And finally,” Rowenna said, drawing out the moment, “your Frostfall King and Queen–representing the fourth years.”

Everyone leaned in.

She opened the last envelope with a graceful flick.

“Your Frostfall Queen is… Celestia Ward.”

The applause was instant. Celestia was stunning–head of the student council, rumored to be top of her combat class, and already

wearing a gown like she knew she’d win.

“And your Frostfall King…”

The snowflakes on the envelope shimmered as she looked up.

“Adrian Blackthorn.”

The cheering doubled. Adrian was practically academy royalty already–smart, powerful, charming, annoyingly handsome.

Lira leaned in and whispered, “Honestly? They kind of look made for each other.”

The crowned pair walked up the steps to join the rest of the Frostfall Court as the music picked back up and the lights dusted the

stage in winter–blue.

All around me, students clapped and whistled and cheered.

But all I could feel was Zayn’s presence beside me–steady, warm, impossible to ignore.

He didn’t win a title.

He didn’t need one.

Because the moment my eyes met his again, I knew exactly who I’d been looking for all night.

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“I… I need to excuse myself for a moment,” I said suddenly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Zayn’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, but I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. Just… wait here.”

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He hesitated, giving me a sharp look, then nodded reluctantly. I slipped past him, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The music and laughter from the dance faded behind me, leaving only the hum of the building.

I passed the line of classrooms, mostly closed doors, until I reached quieter stretch of the hall. I was halfway to the bathroom when voices drifted out from an open door–soft, low, almost casual, but unmistakably carrying.

“…Cecilia…” one voice said.

My stomach dropped. Cecilia. My mother. My pulse quickened, though I didn’t move, frozen a few steps from the doorway.

“…she’s been… involved…” another voice continued, low and hurried. “…you know how things got back then…”

I pressed my back lightly against the wall, trying to keep breathing even. I couldn’t catch much more, but it was enough to make my

hands tighten into fists.

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