Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 107: His Way

If eyeballs weren’t held in place by nerve threads, Lethia’s eyes would’ve popped out by now—she was glaring so wide. Her eyelid muscles strained like a tight biceps lifting pounds of wet cheesecloth stuffed with curds when she was making artisanal cheese.

How the hell did she not feel Zeran sneaking up to hug her like that from behind?

Her late father was right: don’t make yourself at home in a stranger’s place. She regretted ditching her satin robe now more than ever.

Lethia swallowed hard, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat. It was true—Zeran’s hand over her lower belly gave off a kind of warmth that soothed her.

His embrace didn’t flood her body with lust like she feared. No, it felt more like a lingering touch that smoothed over the restlessness she’d been fighting since this afternoon. A silent comfort.

But still, she hated this kind of surprise. The loss of control, the suddenness that rendered her helpless.

Her trembling hand hesitated before reaching for Zeran’s arm, intent on prying herself free from his back hug.

As if sensing her thoughts, Zeran suddenly released her and stepped away. And that only made things worse. Confusing. Awkward.

She was supposed to feel relieved, wasn’t she? But the way her brows furrowed said otherwise—she was irritated by his passive-aggressive stunt.

The real issue? She was too embarrassed to turn around and face him, not dressed like this.

"Y–you—"

Before she could finish, Zeran draped his jacket over her shoulders, the fabric falling past her hips, shielding her all the way to mid-thigh.

Then Zeran picked up the bottle of milk that had fallen and set it back on the kitchen counter.

"I eased your heat a little. I’ll wash up first. I need to talk to you after that." His footsteps echoed as he walked away from the kitchen.

"Why do you treat me like I’m supposed to follow whatever you say?" Lethia turned around, clutching his jacket tighter around her body. She stared at his back as he halted and turned to face her.

"What did I tell you?" Zeran asked, raising one brow.

That smug expression and his commanding presence grated on her nerves, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so irritated in the first place.

"If you want to talk, then talk. You could’ve just made a sound when you came back from your four-day trip instead of sneaking up like a ghost."

Her breath hitched, half from the heat, half from the pent-up irritation spilling into her voice.

Zeran let out a quiet chuckle. "Are you really comfortable having this talk dressed in a sheer chemise like that?"

The question threw her off. "That’s not—"

"I don’t mind, really. But I doubt you’re comfortable enough to talk while you’re thinking my eyes are undressing you."

Lethia froze. That wasn’t what she meant at all—but Zeran had a way of twisting the truth until it bent around his fingers.

"Do you miss me that much?" he murmured. "I didn’t even bother counting how long I was away."

"No!" she yelped, flustered. "It’s the baby. The baby made me restless, so of course I know how long it has been like this."

Another annoyingly sweet chuckle slipped from his lips. "So you do acknowledge it."

Lethia, who felt like Zeran had just undressed her mind without laying a finger on her, could only curl her lips inward and frown in sheer devastation. Disappointed in herself, she turned around and jogged back to her room.

Once inside, she threw Zeran’s jacket onto the sofa with a bit too much force, grabbed her robe, and slipped it on in frustration. She asked herself why the hell she was sulking like this, for nothing.

Somehow, she missed the version of herself that always kept her composure, even when lust had clawed at her skin in the presence of Renar and Caelum.

She never lost control, never surrendered dominance. But with Zeran? He pissed her off beyond reason, and she couldn’t even strike back with a calm, sharp tongue.

Usually, when her pride was bruised like this, she would lock herself in her room and just go to sleep. Yet now, she found herself back in the dining room, staring down at a glass of warm milk that waited patiently in front of her.

She chuckled to herself, bitter at the irony.

Her fingers curled around the glass, the warmth spreading through her palm. She took a slow sip of the milk that Vonda, the butler, had prepared—on Zeran’s command, of course.

Not long after, Zeran stepped into the dining room, his hair still damp from the shower. Lethia’s palm tightened around the half-empty cup of milk.

She despised how the fresh, cool scent of his shampoo tangled with the raw, masculine, deep woody musk from his body—how it wrecked her senses and sent heat pulsing through her lower belly.

She kept her gaze low, refusing to meet his eyes, even though he’d been staring sharply at her from the moment he walked in.

A low smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught her biting her lower lip while staring down, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the cup.

He could feel the magnetic pull of her presence, strong and aching, amplified by the energy of the baby inside her. He knew her body was desperate for release, restless with need.

That alone was enough reason for him to cut his supposed two-week work trip down to just three days. If it hadn’t been for that incident with Lindsey, he would’ve been back yesterday.

"Finish your milk and come here when you’re done," Zeran said, strode past her, and walked into the living room.

He settled onto a single-seater sofa, facing an enormous aquarium filled with a variety of ornamental fish.

Lethia frowned. "Why don’t you sit here instead, if you’re the one who needs to talk?"

Good. This time, she was set on not blindly obeying every word he said. She would hold her ground.

"Do you think you can rebel against me?" Zeran scoffed.

"Don’t act so high and almighty when you couldn’t even resist my pheromones when I was in heat."

Zeran let out a soft laugh, low and mocking. "Who says I resisted? I didn’t need to. Because even if you were standing naked in front of me, I wouldn’t get hard that easily."