The Enemy Alpha's Wet Nurse

Scent Beyond Reason

The oxygen in Amara's lungs was rapidly depleting.

Amara’s feet kicked at the air, searching for a foothold that wasn't there. Raxus’s grip on her neck wasn't just strong—it was lethal. The man’s fingers felt hot, a stark contrast to the cold stone wall against Amara’s back, as if they were hot iron molded directly onto her skin.

"Answer me!" Raxus roared, his voice thundering and vibrating through Amara's ribs.

Amara opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Only a stifled squeak escaped. How could she answer when her windpipe was being crushed?

Raxus’s golden eyes narrowed, his vertical pupils dilating, swallowing the golden irises until they were almost completely black. It was the sign of a wolf losing its rational control.

However, just before Amara’s consciousness faded, something strange happened.

Raxus’s nose twitched.

The man brought his face close to the junction of Amara’s neck and shoulder—the most vulnerable pulse point. He didn't bite. He... inhaled.

Raxus’s heavy, ragged breathing swept across Amara’s sensitive skin, sending confusing shockwaves throughout her body. Raxus’s scent was overwhelming—the metallic tang of fresh blood, mixed with the aroma of burning pine forest and petrichor. Masculine. Intoxicating. And terrifying.

"You..." Raxus loosened his grip slightly, just enough to allow air back into Amara’s throat. His tone shifted, moving from fury to confusion. "Why do you smell like this?"

Amara coughed, gulping down air greedily. "Let... go..."

"Your blood smells of fear," Raxus murmured, as if speaking to himself. His blood-soaked hand now moved, his rough thumb stroking the rapidly pulsing vein in Amara’s neck. The movement was slow, almost sensual, completely contradicting the murderous threat from moments before. "But underneath that... there is milk. Vanilla. And something..."

Raxus closed his eyes for a moment, his broad chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm. The wolf inside him, which had been roaring to kill the intruder, suddenly whined. The beast in his head didn't want to tear this woman's throat out. It wanted to lick her.

"Damn it," Raxus cursed, his eyes snapping open again. This time the golden flash was clearer, but also darker with unwanted lust. "What kind of magic are you using, Witch?"

"I'm not a witch!" Amara managed to gasp out, her hands gripping Raxus’s wrist, trying to pull free. "Your father... Alpha Kaelen sent me!"

The name worked like a counter-spell.

The awe in Raxus’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a familiar, cold hatred. He released Amara’s neck roughly, letting her body slump to the carpeted floor.

"That damn old man," Raxus snarled, turning his back on Amara. He slicked his sweat-damp black hair back, leaving a streak of blood on his forehead. "I told him I don't need a w***e in my room."

"I'm not a w***e!" Amara clutched her aching throat. Raxus’s fingerprints were surely bruising there already. "I am a wet nurse. For your brother."

Raxus turned sharply. His gaze dropped to Amara’s chest. To the conspicuous wet stain there.

His pupils widened again. This time, not from anger. Amara could see the man’s Adam’s apple bob, swallowing hard. A sudden s****l tension filled the air, making the spacious room feel cramped and hot.

"A wet nurse," Raxus repeated, his voice hoarse. "You... Luna Silvermane. The wife of the Alpha whose head I took two days ago."

Amara froze. The flatly delivered confession hit her harder than a physical blow.

"You killed him," Amara whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "You killed my husband."

"He died in honorable combat," Raxus countered without remorse. He stepped closer again, towering over Amara, who was still sitting on the floor. The shadow of his massive body swallowed her. "And now you are here. In my room. Under my power. Offering your milk to my brother."

Raxus crouched down, bringing his face level with Amara’s. They were so close that Amara could see flecks of dried blood on Raxus’s sharp cheekbones.

"Tell me, Luna," Raxus whispered cruelly. "Is your milk poisoned? Do you plan to murder my brother through your n****e for revenge?"

"No!" Amara shook her head frantically. "I am a mother. I would never kill a baby!"

"Prove it."

Before Amara could ask what he meant, a crying sound broke the tension between them.

The sound was weak, intermittent, coming from a bassinet on the other side of Raxus’s large bed.

Raxus's cruel expression instantly changed. A flash of pure panic crossed his eyes. He stood up, forgetting Amara, and rushed toward the bassinet with long strides.

"Shhh... Ares, quiet now," Raxus’s voice softened, a strange contradiction from the monster who had just been choking someone.

Raxus lifted the tiny baby with his large, dried-blood-stained hands. He looked awkward, afraid his strength would crush such a small creature.

"He’s hot," Raxus murmured, pressing his cheek against the baby’s forehead. "Damn it, his fever is getting higher."

Amara watched from the floor. The baby—Ares—looked impossibly small in Raxus’s arms. His skin was pale, his lips dry. The baby squirmed, searching for something on Raxus’s broad chest, but found only hard muscle and the smell of blood.

"He’s hungry," Amara said softly, her maternal instinct overriding her fear. "He’s looking for milk."

Raxus turned, looking at Amara with a desperate gaze hidden beneath his arrogance. The baby in his arms continued to cry, his voice growing hoarse and pitiful.

"Do it," Raxus commanded.

Amara hesitated for a moment. "What?"

"Nurse him!" Raxus snapped, his patience gone. "Now! Before he starves to death in my arms!"

Amara got up on shaky legs. She walked closer. The baby’s scent—the smell of sour milk and fever—called to her body. Her breasts throbbed painfully, responding to the crying with an increasingly heavy flow of breast milk.

"Give him to me," Amara requested, holding out her hands.

Raxus didn't hand him over immediately. He looked at Amara’s hands, then at her face, searching for signs of betrayal.

"If you harm him," Raxus warned, his voice piercingly cold, "I won't kill you quickly. I will break every bone in your fingers one by one."

"I understand," Amara replied, holding his gaze. "Give him here. He needs to eat, not your threats."

Raxus handed Ares into Amara’s embrace.

The moment the baby’s skin touched Amara’s, he instantly quieted, recognizing the warmth and softness of a mother.

Amara sat on the edge of Raxus’s black bed. The mattress smelled just like its owner—musk and dominance. Amara tried to ignore Raxus’s presence, standing over her like a watchtower.

Amara’s hands trembled as she touched the torn shoulder strap of her gown. She had to pull it down. She had to expose her breast in front of a stranger. In front of her husband’s killer.

Amara’s movement stalled. Her face flushed crimson.

"Why stop?" Raxus asked sharply.

"Could you..." Amara swallowed. "Could you turn around? Just for a moment?"

Raxus gave a harsh snort, a sound that bordered on mocking laughter.

"You think you have the right to demand privacy?" Raxus crossed his arms over his bare, broad chest. His biceps flexed. "You are a captive. You are an asset. And I need to ensure you haven't slipped poison or a knife beneath your clothes."

"I don't have a weapon!"

"Your weapon is your body, Amara," Raxus cut in, his eyes darkening. "Uncover yourself. Now. Or I will tear that gown off completely."

Tears of humiliation welled in the corners of Amara’s eyes. She had no choice. For this baby. For her survival.

With trembling fingers, Amara lowered the fabric on her left shoulder. The silk slipped down, revealing smooth white skin, then dropped further, exposing her breast, which was full, round, and heavy with milk.

Amara closed her eyes, unable to look at Raxus’s reaction.

She could hear it, however.

She heard Raxus’s breath catch. It stopped for a moment.

In the silent room, the sound of fabric rustling felt deafening. Amara immediately guided Ares’s small mouth to her n****e.

The baby didn't take long. His survival instinct took over. The tiny mouth latched on instantly, holding tight, and began to suck greedily.

"Ah..." The sigh escaped Amara’s lips, unrestrained.

It wasn't a sigh of pleasure, but one of immense relief. The pain from the engorgement in her chest slowly receded with every strong suckle the baby took. The agonizing pressure lessened.

Amara opened her eyes, gazing gently at the baby in her arms. Her hand naturally stroked Ares’s warm, bald head. For a moment, she forgot where she was. She forgot the war. She was just a mother feeding her child.

But that peace shattered when she felt a hot gaze burning her skin.

Amara looked up.

Raxus was still standing there. He hadn't moved an inch.

His eyes... Amara held her breath. Those golden eyes weren't looking at the baby. They were fixed on Amara’s breast. On the white skin moving rhythmically with the baby’s suckling. On the fine blue veins beneath Amara’s translucent skin.

Raxus stared at her as if he were starving, and Amara was the only meal on the table.

"He likes it," Raxus murmured, his voice hoarse and low, as if he were in a trance.

"He... he was very hungry," Amara stammered, trying to pull the fabric of her gown up slightly to cover the top of her breast.

Raxus’s hand moved like lightning. He gripped Amara’s wrist, stopping her movement.

Raxus’s skin was hot. Burning hot.

"Don't cover it," Raxus commanded. His breathing was ragged. He bent down slightly, his face now level with Amara’s chest. He was so close Amara could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I need to see. I need to ensure the flow is steady."

It was a fabricated excuse. Amara knew it. Raxus knew it.

But neither of them dared to say it aloud.

Raxus wasn't watching his brother eat. He was savoring the sight of his exposed enemy captive.

And the most terrifying thing for Amara wasn't Raxus’s hungry gaze. The most terrifying thing was her own body’s response. Under the Alpha’s intense stare, her other n****e—the one the baby wasn't suckling—hardened and ached. Not from milk, but from a biological reaction to the dominant pheromones filling the room.

Raxus saw the reaction. A thin, dark smirk appeared on his lips.

He raised his hand, not to choke her this time. The tip of his rough index finger touched the soft skin on the upper curve of Amara’s breast, tracing the line of veins there.

"You flow heavily, Luna," Raxus whispered. "Enough to feed an entire pack."

Amara trembled violently. "Please... don't..."

"Don't what?" Raxus challenged, his finger continuing its descent, closer to the baby’s mouth, closer to the forbidden area. "Don't touch what is mine? From this moment on, every drop that leaves your body belongs to Blackmoon. It belongs to my brother..."

Raxus’s eyes lifted, staring directly into Amara’s.

"...and mine."

Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the lock came from outside. Click.

Raxus straightened up, but didn't step away. He walked to the door, turning the extra lock from the inside. Locking the three of them inside the soundproof room

.

"Finish your duty," Raxus said without turning around, beginning to unbuckle his blood-soaked leather pants. "I'm going to shower. And you... don't you dare look away from me."