The Human Among Wolves Chapter 113

Aurora

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.

"Fuck," 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.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His breath 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.”

“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.

Almost.

“Aurora?”

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.

Every hair on my body stood up.

Zayn’s jaw tightened. “If it’s really you,” he said, “what is your nickname for her?”

The mimic didn’t answer. It just stared. Then, slowly, its mouth curved into a smile.

“Half-blood,” it said.

Zayn moved before I could think. He grabbed my wrist, yanking me behind him as he lunged. The knife sliced clean through the thing’s shoulder—but instead of blood, a thick black sludge hissed out, steaming where it hit the floor.

The thing didn’t flinch. It just smiled wider.

When it spoke again, its voice had changed—lower now, distorted. “Always the protector.”

Zayn kicked it back hard enough to crack the wall, but it didn’t fall. The sound it made when it moved—bones scraping, skin dragging—wasn’t human.

“What the hell is it?” I breathed.

“Mimic,” Zayn said roughly. “Leftover magic. They borrow faces.”

The mimic’s head snapped toward me. “Borrow,” it repeated, tasting the word.

The room went cold. My breath fogged in the air.

Zayn’s arm shifted slightly, keeping me behind him. “You picked the wrong face,” he said.

The thing twitched—its jaw unhinging just a little too far—and then it laughed. The sound was high and hollow, like glass breaking underwater.

I stumbled back, bumping into the table. The lantern wobbled, the flame flaring high before shrinking again.

Zayn didn’t take his eyes off it. “Aurora,” he said quietly, “the pendant.”

My hand flew to my chest. The metal was cold enough to burn.

The mimic’s head turned toward me, too fast. Its grin stretched, cracking its own cheek.

It lunged.

Zayn shoved me sideways and met it mid-charge. The two collided with a sound like splintering wood. The mimic’s claws tore through his shirt, but Zayn drove the knife into its ribs and twisted.

The thing screamed—dozens of voices shrieking at once. The floor trembled, the air vibrating with it.

“Light it!” Zayn barked.

My hands fumbled across the table until I found the lantern. The flame was weak but alive. I grabbed the pendant and held it up.

The mimic’s body started to shift—Kael’s face melting, rippling into something else. For a heartbeat, I saw myself staring back—eyes black, mouth open in a silent scream.

The sight froze me.

Zayn shouted my name, but I couldn’t move.

Then the pendant pulsed—hard. A blinding silver light burst from it, filling the room.

The mimic screamed again—higher, shriller—and began to fall apart. The blackness bled from its skin, its body collapsing until nothing remained but a smear of shadow on the floorboards.

Silence crashed back, thick and absolute.

Zayn stayed still for a long moment, chest heaving, knife raised. When the shadow didn’t move, he kicked it once. It dissolved into ash before it hit the ground.

Only then did he lower the blade.

I didn’t move. My fingers were still curled around the pendant, the metal cool now, heavy against my palm. “Zayn…”

He looked over. “What?”

“How did you know?” My voice came out quieter than I meant. “To use this. The pendant.”

His eyes lingered on it for a beat too long. “I didn’t.”

I frowned. “Then—”

“I guessed,” he said, but something in his tone didn’t fit.

“Zayn.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “It pulsed when that thing looked at you. I figured maybe it wasn’t just jewelry.

He sheathed the knife, exhaling through his teeth. “He’s been gone too long.”

The words landed heavy.

He started for the door. “I’m going after him.”

“No.”

He stopped, looking back at me. “Rory.”

“I’m not staying here alone.”

Zayn’s jaw tightened. “You just saw what’s out there.”

“And you just said he’s been gone too long,” I shot back. “If something happened to him—”

He cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Probably,” I said, my voice unsteady but firm. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t argue again. Just grabbed the lantern and opened the door.

The cold hit first—wet, heavy air that clung to the skin. The woods outside were completely still. No wind. No sound. Just a thick, muffled silence that pressed against my ears.

Zayn stepped forward, the light spilling out around us. “Stay close,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at me. “No, Aurora. Stay close.”

His voice was different this time—lower, rawer.

I nodded.

He reached for my hand, his fingers cold and calloused, and together we stepped off the porch.