The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 256

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 256**

**42**

**Finished**

As the clock ticked toward midnight, Aysel finally made her way back to the estate, and with every step she took, the events of the evening seemed to weigh heavily upon her, clinging to her like the acrid remnants of smoke from a dying fire. Her wolf, restless and agitated beneath her skin, had been pacing anxiously throughout the journey home, reacting to the lingering, unpleasant scents of those she had encountered—people whose presence she would prefer to avoid for all eternity.

The moment she crossed the threshold into the familiar space of their home, she felt the tension in her muscles release as she collapsed onto the plush sofa, her face pressed into the fabric, limbs sprawled out in a defeated manner. A long, weary sigh escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to echo the exhaustion that weighed on her spirit.

Magnus, ever the imposing figure, strode in behind her. His tall silhouette cast a protective shadow over her, and as he leaned down, he pressed his lips gently against her cheek, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her. With a low, teasing chuckle, he asked, “Long night, little moon?”

Aysel rolled onto her back, stretching her arms out toward him in their silent, unspoken language—a clear plea for assistance. “I want another shower,” she grumbled, her voice a mix of irritation and fatigue.

The remnants of the emotional turmoil she had absorbed from the gathering still clung to her wolf’s heightened senses, and she was adamant about not bringing that negative energy into their shared space, especially not their bed.

Yet, Magnus didn’t take her hands as she had hoped. Instead, he bent down with a fluid grace, slipping one powerful arm under her knees and another beneath her back. With a smooth, almost regal motion, he lifted her effortlessly, his version of a “princess carry” feeling more like a triumphant wolf claiming his mate. “I’ll help you,” he stated simply, without the need for further explanation.

The warmth radiating from his wolf enveloped her, a possessive comfort that felt like a second skin.

**Twenty minutes later.**

A sharp, startled cry echoed from the ensuite bathroom, slicing through the stillness of the night. “Magnus Sanchez!”

Aysel’s voice trembled, a mix of panic and something else entirely, as she sat in the steaming bath, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“You said you were only helping,” she hissed through gritted teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t want to bathe anymore.”

Water splashed over the edges of the tub as Magnus’s playful “assistance” stirred ripples beneath the surface, sending waves of unexpected sensations coursing through her thighs, making her tense involuntarily.

Magnus, having just been playfully swatted across the chest for his antics, feigned a look of deep offense, his expression almost pitiful—an impressive display for the continent’s strongest Alpha. “Baby… you promised to make it up to me when we got home.”

He had endured hours of irritation because of Jenny earlier, and this moment—this playful exchange—was the reward he had long awaited.

Aysel found herself at a loss for words, grappling with the absurdity of his ability to feign innocence so convincingly. Jenny’s judgment seemed misguided; her third cousin was not cold or distant—he simply channeled all his repressed passion directly onto her.

Initially, she had thought she could slip away from the evening’s chaos, avoiding the worst of his pent-up dominance. But the Shadowbane Alpha was far from naive and saw through her attempts to escape.

Flushing with embarrassment, she pushed weakly against his chest. “Not here.”

Magnus chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her lips, sending delightful shivers down her spine. “Then we won’t take long.”

**Hours later—**

When the moon hung high in the sky and the room bore the marks of their passionate night, the great Alpha reclined back against the pillows, Aysel nestled soundly in his arms, her body limp from exhaustion. He lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, a contented rumble vibrating in his chest as he reveled in the peaceful moment.

With a decisive flick of his wrist, he reached for both their phones, switching them off without a second thought before tossing them aside.

Jenny had attempted to lure Aysel out for a “college boys’ basketball game” at her school the following morning? Over my dead body, Magnus thought, a protective surge coursing through him.

He might not be able to outsmart Skylar, but he could certainly thwart a meddlesome younger cousin. Feeling a sense of victory wash over him, the Alpha chose to ignore the fact that his behavior was bordering on possessive sabotage.

With his sweet-scented mate curled up in his embrace, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift into a deep, well-deserved slumber.

The next day, when Aysel finally stirred awake near noon, it came as no surprise that she had completely missed Jenny’s “invitation.” Reaching for her phone, she was met with the unsettling realization that it was powered off.

A flash of suspicion ignited within her. She turned to Magnus, her eyes narrowing.

She knew him too well. A grin tugged at her lips despite her annoyance as she playfully tugged at his ear. “Magnus Sanchez, you’re ridiculous.”

Truth be told, she hadn’t planned on attending anyway. Those college boys? Not a single one could hold a candle to Magnus, neither in looks nor in strength; even their wolves lacked the firm musculature of the Shadowbane Alpha.

And besides, she already had a giant vinegar jar at home; inviting trouble was the last thing she needed. Too much stimulation for him… meant trouble for her.

Feeling a stab of guilt, Magnus allowed her to pull and twist his ear without protest. Once she finally released him, he nuzzled into her cheek, an apologetic gesture that made her heart flutter. “Baby… I have a meeting this afternoon. Come to the office with me?”

He knew he had ruined one of her social invitations and needed to make amends—or risk being banished from her good graces for an entire week.

“And,” he added quickly, “didn’t Serena send you an invitation for a yacht party? I’ll go with you.”

That seemed like a fair trade-off.

Aysel paused, recalling the invitation that had arrived alongside the birthday invitations for Alpha Bastien Sanchez and Luna Evelyn. Serena had explained that the yacht party was hosted by a partner company she had invested in, aiming to attract the wealthy packs with a high-end leisure event.

At Bastien’s birthday banquet, Serena had mentioned it again, her excitement palpable. Aysel had teased the truth out of her: Serena was promoting it enthusiastically because she had invested privately.

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