The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 42

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 42**

**Aysel’s POV**

The moment I settled onto Magnus’s lap, a rush of warmth enveloped me, contrasting sharply with the cold, wet fabric of my clothes that clung uncomfortably to my skin. The rain had soaked me thoroughly, and yet, nestled against him in the confines of his car, I felt a strange sense of intimacy blossom between us. His scent was intoxicating—an earthy musk that seemed to wrap around me like a protective shroud, grounding me amidst the chaos of the storm outside. As he gently wiped the raindrops from my cheeks, I caught a glimpse of a softer side to him, one that both comforted and bewildered me.

“I’ve completely soaked your car,” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur, weighed down by exhaustion and the emotional turbulence swirling within me.

He paused, his hands stilling as he continued to dab at my face with a towel, his touch surprisingly tender. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment for you next time,” he replied, his voice low and teasing, a playful growl that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Punishment?” I leaned back against his solid chest, inhaling the comforting mix of rain and his unique scent. “I thought you were supposed to be far away, overseas?”

The memory of his absence loomed in my mind—two weeks without him felt like an eternity. Yet here he was, defying all expectations, sitting right beside me.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone casual, almost as if he were discussing the weather. “But when I remembered today was significant…” His voice trailed off, and I could see the tension etched in his features as he stared out into the rain-slicked night. “I couldn’t stay away.”

“Significant?” I echoed, curiosity piquing as I nestled deeper into the warmth radiating from him, seeking refuge from both the storm outside and the storm brewing within.

“The future Mrs. Sanchez’s birthday,” he stated, his words wrapped in an unexpected tenderness that made my heart flutter, though a flicker of something darker lurked just beneath the surface.

A sharp pang of sorrow pierced my heart at the mention of birthdays. This was a day that felt cursed, a day that held no significance for anyone else—except for Magnus, who seemed to view it through a different lens entirely.

Lost in the comforting scent of him, I suddenly noticed a large, beautifully wrapped cake resting beside me on the seat, its soft pink frosting and elegant design a stark contrast to the rain outside.

“Magnus,” I breathed, disbelief coloring my voice. “You do realize they say this day shouldn’t be celebrated, right? It’s considered cursed—unlucky.”

He scoffed, the sound filled with a dismissive laughter that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “Who says that? They’re all fools. If a day brought you into this world, it’s the most precious day there is.”

His fingers gently tilted my chin upward, and our eyes locked. The intensity of his gaze felt like a tether, anchoring me in a moment that seemed to stretch infinitely. “Tell me, my Luna… Does celebrating today bring you joy?”

I swallowed hard, warmth blossoming in my chest. The heat from his touch, the weight of his words, and the connection we shared wrapped around me like a cocoon, and I found myself nodding, even as my heartbeat quickened, feeling slightly out of sync.

His smile was slow, almost predatory, as he reached up to stroke my hair. The roughness of his touch was laced with tenderness that always reached deeper than I wanted it to. “Good. Then that’s all that matters.”

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