The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 212: Dangerous Weapon

Esme’s eyes snapped open, and she automatically sat up on the bed, her breath unsteady as her dream resurfaced.

Her surroundings blurred as her mind struggled to catch up, and there was no rustling of leaves anymore, no sounds of twigs snapping, and no towering trees swaying above her.

Instead, the familiar stone walls of her chamber enclosed her once more.

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of her heart, before sinking back into the pillows. Relief washed over her in waves, and she closed her eyes, though she couldn’t quite grasp why she was relieved. In the dream, she was literally a wolf, she couldn’t have mistaken the obvious.

For every wolf shifter, they usually experience having to sense their wolves through dreams, reflections in mirrors, or even glimpses in water. They were subtle, yet undeniable signs that they were close to manifesting a wolf. Such moments are meant to be exhilarating, a rite of passage filled with anticipation, and at first, she had felt the same thrill. But then... something was wrong.

Why did her wolf radiate such a menacing presence, as if it sought blood?

Who was it hunting like that? The sensation was still vivid, and it left more than just a fleeting impression. In her dream, she had no control there, because she, in her wolf form, was chasing someone with the intent to kill.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, was it? The emergence of one’s wolf wasn’t meant to start with an ominous pursuit, and she knew that much. Althea had been telling her about the dreams and nightmares she had been having lately, and Esme wanted to believe that that was what prompted the dream. After all, she had long accepted the truth, and that was the fact that she had no wolf. She had already passed the age when one should have manifested, and she was silly to have been delusional about the reality she had to bear.

She had finally let go of that hope, and is currently at peace with it. She wasn’t going to torment herself by kindling it again.

"Ah ...silly dream," she murmured to herself.

Opening her eyes, the warmth beside her finally registered, and as she turned, her breath hitched. Donovan lay still, his form draped in the soft glow of the morning. The wild intensity that defined him was momentarily tamed by sleep, his face more relaxed than usual, and his presence serene.

Glancing under the duvet, Esme realized she was wearing another one of her nightgowns, which she was sure Donovan had slipped on for her when she fell asleep during his after care. He too, was dressed in his usual simple tunic and pants.

Last night’s reckless passion surged through her memory, heat pooling in her core at the mere recollection of how he had claimed her. And yet, looking at him now, he seemed impossibly innocent. Though he never was from the moment they met.

Her gaze lingered, drinking him in and taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the faint parting of his lips, and the way his silver hair cascaded over his forehead. She traced his features with her eyes, as if memorizing them, an almost dreamy reverence softening her expression.

"Handsome," she murmured, the word slipping past her lips like a secret. At some point, she couldn’t resist leaning in, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

She hesitated only for a moment before brushing his unruly hair back, not wanting it to trouble him as he slept. But before she could pull away, his hand shot up, his grip firm as he seized her wrist, catching her completely off guard.

Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to wake from such a simple touch.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he blinked at her, his lashes fluttering as mild irritation flickered in his half-lidded gaze.

His drowsy expression made it clear he wasn’t fully awake yet, and he was barely even aware of the look he was giving her.

"Nothing," Esme said quickly, though she could already feel the shift in the air. "Shouldn’t you be up by now since you train before everyone else can use the main training ground? I was only trying to help." she defended, but it was a pathetic excuse, considering she’d been doing everything in her power not to wake him up. But after what he did to her last night, he had no right to look so disgruntled.

She was lucky enough to not feel sore. However, she noticed the way his stare lingered, unrelenting.

"Why are you still staring at me like that?" She demanded, a sliver of unease creeping into her voice as she shifted slightly, only for him to move faster.

Before she could get out of bed, he grabbed her, rolling them effortlessly till she was caged beneath him. He threw the duvet over them like a cocoon, with heat, and the scent of him surrounding her, stealing her breath before his lips could.

"Wait—wait! I’m sorry!" she gasped between laughter and panic, wriggling uselessly as her hands reached up to push him away. "I have to make my journey to the palace today— wait! Stop—ahh!! Someone help me!"

-_-_-♡-_-_-

Atticus and Orion had already arranged the carriage for Esme. This meeting would determine where they all stood; whether they could find common ground or be torn apart by the feud that had plagued them for too long.

That morning, Cora had stopped by, only to be caught off guard when Esme mentioned she’d be away for two days.

"I wish you a safe journey, Luna," Cora said, dipping her head respectfully. "The Moon Goddess will see you through, and whatever you intend to do, I have no doubt you’ll succeed."

Esme’s smile softened as she took Cora’s hand, and everyone watched as she suddenly led the perplexed woman to the back of the building. Once they were out of sight, Esme turned to her, and Cora’s sharp eyes immediately caught on to why she was brought here.

"Did it work?" Cora asked in a whispered tone, and Esme nodded.

"A little too well, even."

Cora’s lips curled into a satisfying smirk at her response. "See? The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach— or by riding his cock till he–"

"Ahem!" Esme shot her a sharp look, clearing her throat pointedly, but Cora was unbothered. She glanced around to make sure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby before leaning in, her voice dropping even lower.

"It’s the truth, Luna! You think kings and warlords are powerful? They might be in terms of physical strength. But put them underneath the right woman, and suddenly, they’re not as untouchable as they seem. We hold power too, in not just our beauty and body, but in intellect and wits. What matters most is how we use all four of these and turn them into our very own dangerous weapons."

Esme groaned inwardly as she listened, pressing a hand to her face as she was mildly mortified to be having this conversation with Cora. The lady did not hesitate to unfilter her words whenever they were alone, almost like Revana in a way. But the truth remained— Cora had taught her exactly what to do, and it paid off.

"Can you teach me more when I return?" Esme finally asked, and Cora didn’t hesitate to nod in agreement.

"I wouldn’t dare refuse my Luna. But I don’t want to dress it up in silk either. I’ve worked in a whore house since the age of twelve. Definitely not something to boast about, the memories still haunt me. But it means that I know most things women wouldn’t dare speak of. I was trained for pleasure, for control, for understanding a man before he understands himself. If that’s what you want to learn, I’ll teach you."

Suddenly, a clap echoed from the far end of the building, disrupting them, and a familiar voice uttered. "Am I interrupting something?"

In unison, both women turned sharply to find Leonardo leaning against a pillar, his expression unreadable, though Cora noticed the fleeting amusement that flickered in his eyes.

"My brother wants to see you before you leave, Luna of the North."

Without waiting for a response, Leonardo turned and strode away, leaving Esme and Cora in the charged silence of his wake. They couldn’t help but wonder if he heard them.