Page 72 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Spared her from becoming their perfect M.U.S.E.

But I didn't.

I stayed in position, followed protocol, and ignored the pull that tried to draw me after that van. Told myself it wasn't my business, mission, or place to interfere.

And look what that decision cost her.

The image shows recent injuries - burns, cuts, evidence of their endless "trials" - but it's her eyes that capture me again. They're harder, carrying shadows that weren't there before, but still unmistakably the same ones that found mine across that autumn valley.

The same ones that seemed to see straight through to my soul in that frozen moment of connection.

My legs spasm violently, as if my body is physically reacting to the revelation. I grip the edge of my desk, riding out the wave of pain while keeping my eyes fixed on her image.

She survived.

My eyes linger on her photograph, the pixelated edges of her face still sharp enough to cut through my composure. I take a few breaths, praying another spasm of agony will not rush through my limbs, and when it doesn’t, I sigh in relief.

Wow…she really is stunning…

Leaning back in the chair, running a hand down my face in a futile attempt to quell the heat rising beneath my skin. It’s not just the past haunting me; it’s the now, the intoxicating idea that she might — even temporarily —be our Omega.

Temporarily…

Mine.

The word strikes something primal inside me, stirring instincts I’ve buried under years of discipline and pain.

It’s a dangerous thought, reckless and selfish in a way I’m not used to. I can’t let myself fall into this spiral — not when my team is depending on me.

But the way my body reacts says otherwise.

A shudder runs down my spine, pooling heat low in my stomach as the scent-memory of her sweet aroma overtakes me. My cock hardens against the constraint of my combat pants, a fierce and undeniable response to thoughts I can’t afford to entertain.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Four minutes until go time.

I should be double-checking the feeds, running diagnostics,anythingbut this.

Yet my gaze falls back to her image on the screen, the vibrant defiance in her eyes like a challenge aimed straight at me.

The kind of challenge that makes me forget who I’m supposed to be — an alpha whose focus should be on the mission, not the way my cock throbs at the thought of her.

Dragging a shaky hand to my mouth, I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to anchor myself. But the tension only grows, coiling tighter with every passing second.

If I had an omega, she’d help me through this. She’d ease the ache, and take care of my needs so I could focus. My body tightens at the thought of her on her knees before me, her lips wrapped around my length, her scent filling the air.

Fuck…

The image sends a bolt of heat through me, and my hand moves instinctively to my zipper.

I hesitate, every rational part of me screaming to stop, but the strain in my pants makes the decision for me. Slowly, I pull the zipper down, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet van.

My cock springs free, thick and hard, the tightness finally giving way to relief. The cool air against my skin is almost enough to take the edge off —almost.

My hand wraps around my length, the motion automatic as my mind fixates on her.On Nyx.The thought of her lips, her body, the way her scent would cling to my skin — it’s all too much.

I stroke myself slowly at first, my thumb grazing over the tip, spreading the bead of precum that’s already formed. A low groan escapes me, muffled by my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

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