The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 183

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 183**

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Aysel and Magnus had barricaded themselves within the confines of the private villa on Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge. Once they had crossed the threshold, neither had any intention of stepping outside again.

Not even as the second day dawned, marking the conclusion of the two-day, one-night class reunion, did Aysel, the very host of the gathering, make an appearance.

The guests, a lively mix of old friends and familiar faces, had gathered to express their gratitude to her, yet the mountains stood silent, the skies remained clear, and the memories created during the reunion lingered in the air like a sweet melody. As they departed, their chatter filled the atmosphere with excitement, each person eager to recount tales of their adventure once they returned to their respective homes.

Manager Wren, with her keen sense of discretion, kept her gaze averted, feigning ignorance about the activities of the Moonvale heiress and the continent’s most formidable Alpha within the villa’s walls. Her primary concern was ensuring that every guest maintained a respectful distance from the building. She had instructed her staff to deliver meals at designated times—quietly, swiftly, and without ever crossing the threshold, as if the very act of entering was forbidden.

Whispers of speculation floated among the wolves. “Figures,” some murmured knowingly, their eyes glinting with mischief.

Zenia, a friend of Aysel’s, wore a look of mild disappointment, wishing for more time to converse with the enigmatic heiress. Emma, ever the optimist, offered a supportive pat on her shoulder, her grin wide and infectious.

“Don’t worry! Alpha Magnus promised he’d send us invitations when the moment is right. We’ll have countless opportunities to see her again,” she reassured, her voice filled with warmth.

Zenia considered this for a moment, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. She nodded in agreement, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

And so, the two friends began their descent down the mountain, laughter echoing in the crisp air as they shared stories and memories.

Meanwhile, within the villa, where the curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the world outside, the fervent passion between Aysel and Magnus showed no signs of waning. The mountains stood still, the air was fresh, and the moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over everything—a perfect sanctuary for wolves seeking solitude.

Magnus reveled in the beauty of their chosen reunion spot.

Aysel, sprawled across a mound of plush pillows, felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration wash over her. Her brows were slightly furrowed, fingers curling against the soft sheets as she gazed vacantly at a delicate flower petal trembling in a vase nearby.

Her legs—

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips, a small cry of surprise as she felt the lingering effects of Magnus’s strength coursing through her. She suspected he had poured every ounce of his daily training into her very bones, igniting a fire within her that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

By the time they attempted to shower, her legs had surrendered entirely. With a gentle yet commanding strength, he swept her into his arms, taking charge of the task as he washed both of them with a tenderness that made her heart race.

Days turned into a blissful blur of passion, stretching across several sunsets and dawns. Magnus adapted quickly, his innate talent for seduction evident as he continuously coaxed her to explore new experiences, fueled by the wicked curiosity that came with being a Rafe-blooded Alpha.

Fine. She was curious too.

At first, the exhilarating exhaustion was a delightful challenge; she found herself enjoying every moment as much as he did.

But by the second night, her body had reached its limits.

Magnus clung to her like a wolf intoxicated by his mate’s scent, refusing to let her escape the comforting nest of blankets. Gathering her remaining strength, Aysel pushed against the Alpha who nuzzled closer, her voice firm as she expressed her desire to do something different, something proper for a change.

Magnus, ever obedient, nodded without hesitation.

On the first day, she declared her wish to paint.

Her mind felt like a jumbled mess, so she didn’t aim for anything profound. Instead, she settled in the villa’s studio, casually sketching the breathtaking mountain view outside.

She had barely finished half of her work when Magnus, standing behind her and feeding her slices of fruit, suddenly suggested—his tone far too suggestive—that he could pose for her as a model.

Aysel’s interest piqued.

She had never attempted to paint Magnus before.

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