Chapter 27: Bad enough.
June 16 2026, 6:58am
The way he’d said it so casually had Nyx’ara’s face burning in embarrassment.
Fuck what she said before, besides terror and punishment, another thing they’ve made her feel in excess these past few days was certainly embarrassment.
They never ceased to embarrass her... or maybe it was just her fault she keeps getting embarrassed by them.
Her eyes widened slightly as she turned to face him, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. Azriel, who noticed all of this, didn’t bother to hide his excitement nor the mischief gleaming in his eyes like Christmas lights on December 24th. He smiled so brightly, unintentionally flashing his beautiful dimples that instantly made Nyx’ara’s breath hitch, and then he added;
"Cat got your tongue now, pretty?"
Pretty.
Jesus, pretty.
That small word made her stomach walls twist into the tightest knot ever known to man. It made her cheeks and ears burn so much that she could imagine her face turning as red as a tomato.
Her heart flipped in her chest, going to settle somewhere deep inside her rectum. And goddess, she hated the fact that little things like this from them were enough to turn her from a mini-hulk into a Barbie.
She stuttered: "Nno- no. No c-cat’s got my tongue."
"Then tell us why you insist that you’re on your period when I can clearly see blood stains on the back of your top. Tell us why you winced when my arms brushed against your back... and not your uterus."
Her face flushed at his choice of words, and she quickly lowered her head. "You can-cannot b-br-brush against my uterus. Th-that’s impossible."
Azriel almost facepalmed himself as soon as he heard her say that. He was so flustered and so aggravated that he wanted to pull out his hair.
What was worse than her annoying theatrics was the way his beast, Ryker, laughed at him and at Nyx’ara for grating at each other’s nerves. He snapped;
"Of course I cannot, Nyx’ara, and you know that! So why the fuck do you keep trying to change the subject?"
Because the subject at hand would make me look pathetic...
Because the subject would involve me having to show you guys my back which I am uncomfortable with.
The subject might even make you realize that I am not the murderer you think I am, therefore putting Berlin in danger.
All of these words formed and died on her tongue with quick succession; But after careful thought, she muttered; "B-because it i-is u-unimportant to-to people like you."
People like you.
Those words felt like a slap to Azriel’s face. It sounded like she had gurgled a mouthful of water and spat it at his face.
His hands clenched into a fist when she lowered her head further as if it wasn’t already lowered enough as it is, and then he snarled;
"Suit yourself then, the woman who menstruates through her back!"
This new nickname, coupled with the several others she’d heard them call her these past few days made her chest burn with a mixture of shame and apprehension. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to stop herself from shooting a snappy response at him.
However, by the time she lifted her head, he had already stormed off, and all she saw was the outline of his well-toned back as he disappeared into a dark corner.
Draven and Kieran, who obviously had nothing to say to her, left too, and for the first time in about a couple of minutes, she finally heaved a sigh of relief.
She hadn’t noticed how much she’d been holding her breath until they were gone. She hadn’t noticed the blush staining her cheeks until she rested her palms on her face and felt the heat searing across them. She hadn’t noticed how affected she was by them until they left and she felt the shift... the relief... in her lower belly.
Heavens, these men will be the death of her.
With heavy limbs, she continued her way into the house, not forgetting to stop in front of their statues before climbing up the stairs.
She shot a glance at the four pristine stones, rolled her eyes at how much bigger they were compared to the statues of the Greek gods and goddesses, and hissed under her breath:
"Egotistic bastards!"
But this time, she didn’t care that they could hear her. She didn’t care that just like one of the very few times in the past three years, she didn’t stutter.
All she cared about was how they made her feel, and she didn’t like it one bit.
—
For someone who had spent the past three years of her life locked up in a cell, Nyx’ara was far too restless to be cooped up in her room for two straight hours now.
She sat beside the large double windows by the side of her room and stared down at the beautiful scenery below. From the corner of her eye, she saw the quiet path that she had taken this morning, now filled with men training in their human and beast forms.
For a split second, something akin to regret settled deep into her bones, and with it came a strong dose of self-loathing and anger... anger because she had failed at doing something as simple as escaping from these terrible men and her pack.
Whenever she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the warmth of freedom. She could almost taste the clean air of the country several continents away from here... and that... that brought tears to her eyes.
"I-I will tr-try a-again," the words slipped out of her lips with conviction. "I-I will con-continue to-to try ag-again until I regain my f-freedom!"
The sudden clarity came with a burst of confidence, but that confidence was short-lived when suddenly, sharp knocks sounded at her door, jolting her out of her reverie.
She rose to her feet quickly, thinking it was either Eloise or one of the quads themselves. However, as soon as she pushed the door open, a small frown immediately etched its way into her face when she saw who it was.
Don’t worry, it was not someone we know.
It was a doctor.
She cocked her eyebrows while staring pointedly at the woman’s lab coat, stethoscope, and her extremely tight painful-looking slick back.
She looked like she might suffer from alopecia soon.
Pushing this thought away, Nyx’ara planted her hands on her hips. She asked; "W-who are yo-you?"
At that, the middle-aged woman in front of her set down her box of tools, looked Nyx’ara dead in the eyes, and seethed; "I am Doctor Ivory, sent here to treat you by my Alphas. They said that they suspect that you may have sustained some bleeding injuries on your back, and I’d like to see them."
Not them. Goddess, not them.
Without thinking, Nyx’ara’s fingers dug into the bottom of her top, keeping the fabric in place. She could not imagine the look on anyone’s face when they would see just how terrible the state of her back was so she could not let it happen.
The next word she said slipped out of her lips, sounding so cold and so angry, it could freeze alcohol. She hissed; "N-no."
But instead of trying to convince her or to do something in that regard, ’Doctor’ Ivory simply rolled her eyes and said:
"It is already bad enough that I need to touch you, murderer, so do not make my job here more uncomfortable than it already is."