Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 90: Bewitched (2)

Lethia could feel her heartbeat hammering in her chest as a scream caught in her throat, only to break free in a sharp, panicked gasp instead.

In that split second, she wished that it was just a dream.

That the moment her back slammed into something hard, she’d wake up in the soft comfort of her bed, her father’s hand shaking her shoulder, pulling her out of this nightmare.

That the bright, clear morning sky she stared at now would turn back into the familiar ceiling of her room.

But what she saw instead... was a wolf.

Was this her wolf? Had it come from the sky when she was on the edge of death? But then—no.

As the creature neared, it became too clear. It had thick, muscular arms covered in soft, jet-black fur and a head like a wolf, but with distinct human features; it was a beast.

The closer it got, the less she knew what she was looking at. The beast reached toward her, claws extended like it meant to stab her.

Panic surged through her, and all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut tightly, bracing for the worst.

BUUUGGGG!!!

Lethia felt her body jerk and shake, the sudden impact sending a wave of dizziness crashing through her.

The sound of the fall echoed, and she braced herself for the pain she was sure would come when she hit the ground.

But when she expected to feel the harsh sting of the earth beneath her, she was instead wrapped in something thick, warm, and soft.

It cocooned her, holding her close in a tight embrace.

The wave of sensation and spasms beneath her felt like sinking into a deep, comforting massage chair, enveloping her completely.

She could feel her body trembling, while her heart pounded so loudly it echoed in her ears like war drums.

But as she gasped for breath, something felt off—like there was a beat in her ears that didn’t belong to her, a rhythm misaligned with her own pulse.

A low, raspy growl and the warm breath brushing the crown of her head made Lethia brave enough to open her eyes.

What she saw first was a broad, muscular chest cloaked in a thick layer of jet-black fur that glinted like silk.

It took her a second to realise—she was sprawled, face down on top of it, her body draped across that firm, furred chest like it was a living bed.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to push herself up. Her palms pressed into the muscle beneath her, feeling it heave with the same rhythm as her racing heartbeat.

She realised the beat she’d heard was his.

Slowly, she tilted her head up and met the gaze of the beast.

That monstrous, fur-covered creature stared back down at her, his nostrils flaring, a guttural growl rumbling from deep within his throat, baring sharp, deadly fangs... and yet, her gut said that he wouldn’t use them on her.

But when she looked into his glowing blue eyes that flashed like lightning tearing through a storm-black sky, her breath caught entirely.

She was mesmerised. They were so haunting, so magnetic, she almost wanted to believe he was a wolf fairy... with ocean-deep eyes that begged her to drown inside them.

Her hands moved on their own, slowly brushing up toward his face. Her fingers traced the line of his cheekbone, trailing toward the edge of his eye with a quiet kind of reverence.

"It’s beautiful," she breathed, her pupils wide, lips parted in awe. "Are you... My wolf fairy? Come to pick me up?" Her voice trembled with innocent wonder, like she truly believed she’d already left the world behind.

Those blue eyes utterly bewitched Lethia’s mind. She swore they radiated cold, but her heart only felt the warmth.

She thought if she had really died, then maybe she was glad this was the beast who’d picked her up.

He didn’t answer her thoughts. Instead, he stood effortlessly, still carrying her in both arms.

Her gaze clung to his like a magnet, and without thinking, she curled her arms around his neck, fingers sinking into the thick black fur on his nape.

She wondered where this fairy-tale monster would take her; was it to hell or heaven?

Her dazed mind spun with the idea that even hell would feel like heaven if she could drown in those eyes forever.

"Are we... going to hell?" she asked softly, in a voice so tender she barely recognised it, like a teenage girl asking her crush out on a first date.

Maybe death had made her femininity bloom in full force. But the beast only answered her question with a sideways glance and a low growl that rumbled through his chest.

Time slipped strangely as Lethia let herself melt in the swing of his strides, his massive seven-foot frame rocking her like some spellbound cradle.

Then, slowly, like magic unravelling, the soft, silky fur of the beast began to vanish.

She blinked and realised her palms were no longer gripping fur but the hot, sculpted skin of a man’s bare shoulders and neck.

The sight of his face, handsome and pale, with a smirk tugging at his peach lips, snapped Lethia out of her daze.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted, searching for words that never quite formed.

"We’re already in one, Firefox," he said, with a smirk that curled like sin, and a look so smug it scorched.

That cocky expression snapped Lethia back to reality, she became painfully aware of whose arms were around her.

Her head jerked, scanning her surroundings, and realised she was still inside the same building where the team assignment had taken place.

Her memory reeled, dragging her back to the moment she’d plummeted from the balcony, and instinctively, her eyes dropped to her belly.

"My baby..." she whispered, her voice tight with dread and barely escaping her throat.

"Worry less. You two are fine," he said, cool and certain.

Those few words gave her a flicker of comfort, but why the hell did she believe him so easily?

Her gaze swept around again, this time catching Adam in the reception area. He stood completely still, not even blinking.

It reminded her of Renar, and Caelum had gone stiff just like that when this man pulled her into the elevator.

She glanced at his bare chest, wide and hard under her fingers, then immediately looked away as heat bloomed across her cheeks.

"Put me down," she demanded.

"Not here. Your knees are still shaky," he retorted without even slowing his steps.

Lethia swore her knees weren’t the only thing trembling. If she didn’t get out of his hold right now, the heat pooling in her lower belly would only grow worse.

"I’m fine! Just put me down now!" she snapped, though the crack in her voice betrayed her.

The black-haired man didn’t budge. He kept walking like she weighed nothing, his grip unyielding around her back and thighs.

"Zeran Tuffin! Are you deaf?! Put me down now!" Lethia half-yelled, half-begged.

Still walking, he locked his gaze onto hers. He growled, "I said not here. And you will obey that."