Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 99: Don’t Turn Back

That was the first time in Lethia’s life she ever heard of a lycan collapsing from a fever and needing an ambulance. No, even for an ordinary werewolf, she’d rarely heard of one needing emergency care just from a night of fever. Was there some strange virus spreading in Ashenhold?

"What?" Lethia asked in disbelief. "Where is he?"

But even in her confusion, unsure of what to do, worry clawed into her chest, and her pulse quickened.

She broke into a small run toward Renar’s bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

"Master sleep in your room, Miss," Muffy explained behind her.

"Tch, why didn’t you say that earlier?"

Muffy and Tuffy exchanged glances while Muffy followed Lethia into her room.

Lethia clenched her fists as she walked slowly toward the bed where Renar lay.

His eyes were shut in a deep frown, sweat trickling down his temple, soaking his hair.

"Renar..." She shook his arm and could feel his skin burning, but he only let out a low growl and furrowed deeper into pain.

She touched his forehead and immediately flinched, eyes wide. He was boiling hard. Judging by his constant frown and the way he muttered under his breath, Lethia was sure the fever was tormenting him.

"Muffy, call an ambulance. Now," Lethia yelped.

"But Master said he doesn’t want to go to the hospital."

"Has he ever been like this before?"

"Never, Miss. Master Ren—"

"THAT’S WHY! Ugh... Why are you so damn obedient when someone’s dying?" Lethia’s face twisted in frustration, pissed at Muffy’s complete lack of judgment.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, ready to dial emergency. But then a warm hand gripped her wrist.

Lethia gasped, and as Renar’s eyelids fluttered open slightly, she leaned in closer.

"Renar... are you alright? What are you feeling now? Can you hear me? We should go to the hospital. I’ll call—"

"There is no need."

His voice cracked—hoarse, broken—but still firm. The grip on Lethia’s wrist tightened, making it clear he had no intention of going anywhere.

Lethia glanced down at his hand, then back at his face, his expression weak, barely managing to blink.

The sight made her heart flutter and sting at once.

"Is it really okay? Why can’t you heal faster? Have you ever felt like this before?"

She knew asking a sick person was pointless, but she felt so damn helpless. There was nothing else she could do.

Renar turned his head, and those tired eyes locked with her worried gaze. He smiled faintly.

"I have." He cleared his throat. "Back when I was looking for you on the hospital rooftop... I remember this same heat burning inside me." Renar shifted, slowly turning toward her on the bedside.

"But when I held you... felt your warmth in my arms... the pain, the fever were gone.

Then I trailed my lips down your neck like a madman, because your scent was too fucking addicting. After that, you shoved me away.

Why did I just remember that detail last night? And since then, I’ve had this fever."

He pulled her wrist closer, pressing her palm under his cheek like he needed her warmth to breathe.

Lethia froze. Didn’t Whisney say she erased Renar’s memory when he was possessed?

So why... why was he remembering now?

"And when you came into my bathroom... naked," his voice cracked lower, feverish and lost,

"I remember I screamed at you to leave in my head. But my body wouldn’t listen. Why the hell did I forget that and believe I’d turned into some fucking beast who forced you?" He shut his eyes tight, his voice dropping.

"Fuck. This is driving me insane," he muttered.

Renar turned his head and pressed Lethia’s palm to his lips, inhaling deeply like he was searching for oxygen in her skin.

Lethia’s breath hitched. What the hell was this? Why could Renar remember those?

’Whisney... Whisney... Are you there?’ she called out in her head, but there was no response.

Her breathing turned sharp as Renar continued pressing soft kisses to her palm, one after another, slow and deliberate.

But somehow, she knew those kisses weren’t meant to stir lust. They felt different. They felt like longing. Like sorrow. Like grief poured into skin.

Her chest clenched watching him worship her hand that way.

She could feel his warmth bleeding into her bones, his fever just a little lower than before.

"Do you want me to hug you?" she asked without thinking. The words slipped from her lips instinctively. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Renar turned his face toward her, his heavy-lidded eyes locking with hers, and gave a slow, weak nod.

Lethia cursed under her breath, damning herself for offering such an intimate gesture without thinking.

But she couldn’t take it back now. She climbed onto the bed beside him, his broad back radiating warmth as she hesitated behind him, unsure how to wrap herself around him properly.

As he began to turn, her palm landed on his back to stop him. "Don’t turn back," she yelped.

"I’ll hug you from behind. So don’t turn back." He obeyed. Her arms slid slowly from his back to the firm plane of his upper abs, and she could feel the tension in his breath, tight, spasming under hard muscle. She swallowed hard.

However, despite the sexual tension that might’ve risen from their current closeness, seeing Renar lying there helpless like that brought back what Zeran had told her—Renar had never met his mother since he was a baby.

Somehow... she could relate to that.

Her whole life, she had never known who her mother was. Even her father always seemed somber and sad every time she asked about her, which eventually made Lethia stop asking altogether.

Renar reached for her hand, which was still wrapped around him from behind, and pressed it to his chest.

Lethia could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, and each thump made her chest ache.

For the first time since her father’s death... she didn’t feel completely alone in this world.