The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 214: Be Yourself Again

Althea led Donovan to his own study, her grip surprisingly firm for someone of her slight build. Once inside, she shut the door behind them with a decisive thud, the force of it sending a faint tremor through the wooden panels, including Donovan.

He had always found her physical strength perplexing whenever she acted like this, cause she hardly looked like she possessed any at all.

"Forgive me for hauling you in here, but you need to see this," Althea said quickly. She strode toward the table in the center of the room and gestured for Donovan to follow.

Donovan stepped forward, his gaze dropping to the table’s surface, where an array of meticulously drawn sketches lay scattered. His brow furrowed as he took in the details before shifting his attention to Althea, who simply pointed at them with an expectant look.

"Look closely. Do these seem familiar to you? The environment, the people, anything at all?" she asked, her tone more insistent now.

Donovan’s fingers brushed over the edge of one sketch as he lifted it for a better view. The moment he did, an unnatural gust of wind suddenly tore through the study, sweeping the papers into the air with a violent whoosh.

Althea’s breath hitched at the sight. "No, no, no—" she gasped, reaching frantically for the flying sheets, but the air carried them beyond her grasp. The pages whirled around the room like autumn leaves caught in a storm, and they spiraled toward the burning hearth.

Snapping out of his daze, Donovan lunged as well, but the papers danced just beyond his reach, the alarm in his eyes becoming more evident as they dropped into the hearth. Within seconds, the papers were consumed by the fire, their edges curling and blackening before they crumbled into glowing embers.

Donovan stood frozen, his chest tightening as he stared at the flames devouring whatever had been inked onto those pages. A strange chill settled over him despite the warmth of the fire. And slowly, he turned his head toward the windows.

The heavy curtains remained undisturbed, and glass planes were shut tight.

So where had the breeze come from?

"My sketches...!"

Althea’s trembling voice shattered the silence in the room, and it yanked Don back to reality. He turned swiftly, only to find her on her knees before the hearth, her hand hovering over the smoldering remains of charred paper. The flickering fire light cast a warm glow on her face, but it did nothing to mask the tears welling up in her eyes. The sight unsettled him, and although he knew how emotional Althea could get, something was different this time around.

"Those sketches..." she continued in a whisper, her voice fraught with disbelief. "...they were the only proof I had."

Donovan crossed the room in a few strides, lowering himself to one knee beside her. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, a gesture meant to ground her, although he, too, was troubled. The air still carried the faintest trace of something very unnatural, and it made Donovan wonder if there had been a draft.

No. It was more than that. Something had stirred.

Looking at Althea, he asked. "The sketches... what was in them?" His voice was soft, as he was careful not to shake her further. He didn’t understand why she was so distressed, but her reaction told him this loss was no ordinary one.

"Althea."

When he uttered her name, Althea swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat, whilst she tried to find her words. "Do you remember that there used to be a time when I’d have nightmares... dreams, and they would all come to pass?" She then hesitated, as if forcing herself to believe what she was about to confess. "I think it’s happening again."

Donovan’s grip on her shoulder tightened slightly.

"The sketches..." her voice wavered. "They were my dreams. Everything I’ve seen in them— I drew it all. I was hoping to show them to you, hoping you could clarify if the things I’ve seen were as they claim to be. But now..." her breath hitched as she stared at the hearth. "It’s all gone."

Her hands tightened into fist till her knuckles turned white, her eyes becoming more watery. "I’m sorry."

Donovan exhaled, a quick sigh of frustration— though not at her. He gently ruffled her hair, his touch light, almost paternal. "What are you apologizing for? I am also to blame. If I didn’t hesitate earlier, we would still have them. I thought I told someone to put a stop to this earlier today. Wait here, let me–"

"Don." Althea’s voice halted him just as he was about to straighten up. Her tone was soft and urgent, laced with something fragile beneath its surface.

"In my dream... you were different... terrifyingly so," she whispered, pausing for a moment before adding. "Please don’t... don’t push yourself away from us, okay? Don’t listen to anyone if they try to tell you otherwise. You won’t stray away from us, will you?"

Donovan’s brow furrowed. "Stray away?" His lips twitched slightly, as if the idea amused him, but he caught himself before the smirk could form. Althea wasn’t joking, and he could tell that much.

"Why would I do that?" He asked instead.

Althea simply faltered at his question, and the thought hit her. Why would he?

If anything, Donovan had endured more of the curse than any of them ever would. He had resisted it when so many had fallen to its grip. He was able to defy it too, to act on his will. So why would he turn against his own people? But then again... her mind flickered to that girl... the same one she had seen in the bushes while she was watching the Aurora. What was her connection to all of this?

Is the true bearer not the only thing we should be worried about?

"I’m just scared," she admitted, exhaling softly. "I’m not sure if I can recreate the sketches the exact same way. But I will give it another shot. I just..." her voice turned smaller now. "Just don’t leave us. Any of us. Can you promise me that?"

Donovan parted his lips to answer, but before he could, the door suddenly swung open, and Acheron walked in. There was a look of relief in his eyes when he spotted Althea with Donovan, and he strode toward them.

"I’ve been looking for you," he said, his gaze shifting from Donovan and settling on Althea. "It’s time for your medications. Come with me."

But Althea turned her head the other way in defiance. "I don’t want to."

Acheron said nothing and glanced at Donovan, as if saying ’this is what I’ve been putting up with’ to him, seeking reinforcement. Donovan simply offered a brief nod, his gaze returning to Althea who refused to move an inch.

"You won’t take your medicine?" he asked, and Althea shook her head.

"I like it better when Esme gives them to me, but she’s not here."

At that, Donovan and Acheron shared another glance, something unspoken yet understood between them. Without another word, Acheron stepped forward and lifted Althea into his arms. She let out a startled gasp upon realizing she was being lifted, not expecting him to carry her at all.

"You can yell at me later," Acheron interjected, cutting off whatever protest was forming on her lips. "Right now, your health is more important than your complaints. Esme already gave me all the medicine before she left, along with the necessary, detailed instructions on your care. You can hit me if you want to, but you will take your medications, whether you like it or not."

The serious look in his eyes didn’t leave any room for argument, but his concern for her was as clear as day. He turned to Donovan and gave a respectful nod before carrying Althea out of the room, the door shutting softly behind them.

Left alone, Donovan finally rose, feeling an unexpected sense of relief knowing Acheron would look after her. But Althea’s earlier words lingered in his mind. What exactly had she meant when she said he was going to stray away from them?

His gaze drifted toward the fire crackling in the hearth, suspicion flickering in his violet eyes.

Meanwhile, Acheron had taken Althea to the medicine room, ensuring she was comfortably seated before gathering the ingredients from the shelves. She watched as he prepared her medicine for her, and his movements were careful, methodical, but there was a silence between them that neither attempted to break, regardless of how heavy it was.

Althea noticed he never mentioned their mate bond again. A part of her was relieved, somewhat, but the absence of the conversation still left a dull ache in her heart. If anything, she would be happy to embrace the bond, but she could not... not when there’s so many lives at stake.. her life included. If anything were to happen to her after she accepts the bond, Acheron would never recover from it. That was a risk she wasn’t willing to take, since she wanted nothing but the best for him.

Watching him make her medicine, Althea couldn’t help but wonder how he learned to do it. Acheron was no skilled healer, he made the worst medicine in the Damned when they were children, and she would fall terribly sick from taking anything he made.

"Here," His voice was quiet as he placed a small bowl in front of her. "You need to finish all of it. Luna’s orders."

Althea stared intently at the contents of the bowl, her fingers tightening around its edges. She had to admit– she was sleeping better, but the weight of her anxiety still lingered, heavy and unrelenting on her shoulders.

"You don’t have to worry about that," Acheron quickly said after noticing her hesitation. "Esme was patient enough to teach me the procedures, so it’s safe to drink."

Althea said nothing and set her spoon aside. Bringing the bowl to her lips, she took a small sip. The taste was dull, slightly better than what she remembered, but still unpleasant. Suppressing her distaste for any herbal medicine, she swallowed the rest in one go and placed the bowl back on the table. She was finding it hard to believe that Acheron learned how to make her medicine, and it brought a feeling she wasn’t ready to welcome.

"I’ll be going now," she murmured, pushing back her chair.

However, Acheron’s voice stopped her just as she turned to leave. "Do you hate my presence now too?"

At his question, Althea froze. There was no anger in his voice, only quiet pain, and it was enough to make her chest tighten. Her fingers were itching to press against her heart, like it would do anything to dull the ache, but she closed her hands into tight fist at her side.

"I’ll accept however you wish to treat me, Althea," he continued. "But please... if not for me, then for everyone’s sake, get better soon. I’ve asked you so many times what the problem is, but you won’t say anything to me. I miss seeing you smile, Althea. I miss the warmth you bring to all of us. I just... need you to be yourself again . We all do."

Althea said nothing in response, cause she was afraid her walls might break if she did. Hesitating for a moment, she didn’t dare look at him and hurriedly walked away.