The Villains Must Win-Chapter 161: Lyander Wolfhart 11

Just as Liora anticipated, he stepped out of the trees—like a predator drawn by instinct. Shirtless, his chest glistened faintly with sweat, muscles carved and tense beneath the moonlight.

Scars mapped his torso like forgotten battles, each one telling a story she hadn’t yet heard. His hair was damp, tousled from the night air, and his eyes . . . gods, those eyes. Glowing amber like molten gold, locked on her with the intensity of a storm about to break.

There was no mistaking it. Lyander didn’t just walk—he prowled. Dangerous. Magnetic. The kind of beautiful that wasn’t safe to look at too long, unless you were ready to be bitten and marked.

=== 🖤 ===

Lyander hadn’t meant to follow Liora.

That was what he told himself, anyway, as he crouched in the thick cover of trees, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

He’d been on patrol. A routine sweep. But when he caught her scent—wild jasmine and rain-kissed earth—his feet moved of their own accord.

And now he stood, hidden by shadow, watching her.

Liora. The human girl who fell from the woods and spoke of war like it was a memory.

She shouldn’t have been beautiful. Not in this primal, untamed way. She was all soft limbs and sharp eyes, with a mouth that always held back too much and a spine that didn’t bend easily, even when it should. Her presence unsettled the pack. Her presence unsettled him and his wolf.

And yet—

Now, standing beneath the cascade of the moonlit waterfall, she was something else entirely.

She’d stripped down to her underclothes, thin fabric clinging to her curves as she waded waist-deep into the pool. Her skin glowed beneath the pale light, kissed by moon and mist. Drops of water clung to her thighs, slid down her back, and pooled at the small of her spine.

Her hair was wet, slicked back, revealing the clean line of her jaw, her neck—gods, that neck. He found his eyes caught on her collarbone, the subtle rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed.

Those breasts were so soft, so full, tipped with the faintest blush of pink. His mouth went dry just looking at her, every muscle in his body tensing with a primal hunger he hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.

His hands twitched at his sides, and his wolf — the unruly, restless thing tethered to his soul — growled low and approving in the back of his mind.

"Bet our palms would fit perfectly there," his wolf rumbled, voice thick with desire like he was the one in heat.

"Shut up," Lyander snapped silently, gritting his teeth as heat flushed through him, blood rushing south to his cock. He refused to acknowledge the pull, refused to give the animal inside him free rein. He was stronger than this. He had to be.

But his body betrayed him — already stirring, aching, responding to the sight of her standing there like some forbidden dream, her skin glistening under the faint shimmer of mist, hair clinging to the soft curve of her waist.

His wolf chuckled, the sound rough and wicked. "Don’t even try to fight it. You forget—we share one mind, one body. If I want her . . . so do you."

Lyander stifled a groan, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Damn this curse. Damn her for making him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. Not after her. Not after the mate he’d lost and vowed never to get close to another woman again.

And yet . . . here he was. Burning. After so many years.

There was something about Liora that shattered all his careful walls. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was a mystery. Even standing there vulnerable, she radiated an untamed spirit that called to everything primal in him.

She was fire. She was trouble. And his wolf—hell, his whole being—ached to be consumed.

He shouldn’t be here.

He knew it. freewebnøvel.com

But it had been years—years—since anything stirred inside him like this. Since he’d looked at a woman and felt hunger. A low, ancient craving, something feral that his wolf recognized even before he did.

And it was her.

The way she moved like she didn’t belong anywhere, and yet commanded space like it was made for her.

The way her lips parted slightly when the cold water hit her skin, like she was tasting freedom for the first time.

The way she didn’t flinch, even when she clearly knew she was being watched.

Because she did know.

Liora paused, water gliding around her hips as she turned her head slowly, eyes searching the woods. Not afraid. Not startled. Just . . . aware. Her gaze swept over the trees, and for a heartbeat, he swore she looked right at him.

He didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Her expression didn’t change, but there was something in her eyes—a quiet challenge, a whisper of danger.

Come out if you dare, it said. Let me see you.

His wolf pushed against his skin, urging him forward. He stepped out of the trees, slowly, deliberately. The leaves rustled under his bare feet. His chest was bare, the cold air biting against old scars and hard muscle, but he didn’t feel the chill. Not with her standing there, half-wet and glowing like a creature from another world.

She stared at him. Unblinking.

His voice came out rough, low. "You shouldn’t be out here."

She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Neither should you," she said softly, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him—standing there, bare and breathtaking, driving Lyander to the very edge of his control.

Of course she’d say that while naked, baring her full breasts and perky nipples to him. Was she even aware that she was naked?

And of course she’d meet him, challenge for challenge, as if she didn’t realize what he was. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the problem and the way that she was so calm about it.