Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 118: No Plan B

Chapter 118: No Plan B

Zeran sucked in a breath when Lethia, without a single complaint, lay down on her side—facing him.

The last time he had helped her manage her heat while she slept, he had only dared to back hug her. That had been safe.

But the last time they’d been face to face like this... he’d ended up stroking himself alone, desperate and aching.

This position was dangerous.

Still, he could feel the pull from the baby, the urgent need for pheromone bonding. Her boldness, wearing that sheer sleepwear and lying like that, told him she was just as desperate.

’Isn’t she still mad I left her last night?’ he wondered.

"What are you waiting for? Didn’t you say we were sleeping?" Lethia huffed.

’Does he feel it too? Right, will he resist me again tonight?’

Zeran tried to remain calm as he shifted onto his side, finally facing her.

But the moment their eyes met, he froze. There it was again—that lingering look. Lethia stared at him like she was bewitched, as if she had lost all control.

He felt it again—her gaze, deep and searching, the same look she gave him the night he saved her. It was unnerving.

What the hell was she seeing in him? Were his eyes that mesmerizing that she’d gone mad for him?

He was pretty damn sure Lethia was already smitten. She was just too proud to admit it.

"Can I touch this?" she asked, suddenly hovering her fingers near his face.

"Touch what?"

"This..."

Her fingers caressed the edge of his right eye, and before he could respond, she traced along his eyelid gently, making him blink in confusion.

"Your eyes are so beautiful... and sad."

"Sad?" His brows drew together.

"Mhm... whenever I look into them, they scream pain. So sad it makes my heart ache."

Her explanation only left Zeran more baffled. Was this her new way of seducing him?

Zeran leaned in, sliding his left arm beneath Lethia’s head to cradle her with a pillow arm, then scooped her against him.

His other arm wrapped around her waist, his palm gliding slowly along her back in a gentle caress.

"Just sleep. It’s almost midnight," he ordered, voice low and firm.

Lethia froze. Her lips and nose were pressed right between his neck and chest, her breath catching at the heat of his skin and masculine scent.

How the hell was she supposed to sleep like this? Her face grew hot, the flush crawling up as her pulse surged.

She placed her hand on Zeran’s chest, trying to push him away. But then their eyes locked again.

"I don’t know how you can be so fucking dense and bold, thinking we could just sleep in this position. You..."

"I’ll give you what you want after we’re married," Zeran cut her off. "After the sacred ceremony. After I mark you under the red moonlight."

His words sent a shiver racing through her. Lethia hadn’t expected a Lycan from Ashenhold to hold on to sacred rites like that, not with the careless image their kind carried in public.

She bit the inside of her cheek. It cornered her, made her feel trapped.

There was no other way out but to marry him. And she hated that. Hated not having a choice.

"You know," she muttered, voice soft, "Lana told me something. She said, They will kill me. They’ll stab me again." She hesitated, breathing unevenly.

"Do you even know how terrified I am with all this madness in my life? My attacker is still out there. The enemy I thought I would relish destroying showed up more broken than I ever imagined. And..."

Lethia hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. That she was bound to a fox spirit. But it had vanished without a trace, and not sure when it would be back.

"And do you think I could just say yes to marrying you simply because my body needs to get laid by you?" Her eyes warmed, the sting behind them growing sharper as tears threatened to fall.

"I got married once," she whispered, "and I was betrayed... abandoned. What if—" her voice cracked, "what if..."

"I won’t leave you."

Zeran’s voice came out low, firm, but warm enough to shut down every argument swirling in her head.

"Even if the whole world is against you... even if they try to kill you... I’ll be there. I’ll keep you alive."

He reached up, brushing his fingers through her hair with a tenderness that melted her fight.

"Be patient. You said you would give your answer once your ranch is back. I’ll give you that before the next red full moon. Just be patient... and let your body relax with whatever I give you, until our marriage. Just trust me."

Lethia’s gaze faltered, her vision blurring as her heart pounded so hard, the tears finally spilled. ’Can I really trust him?’ Her fingers curled tightly around his shirt.

"But—"

"Even if you can’t trust me," he said softly, "just pretend to. You’re carrying my pup. Trust that bond. I’ll never harm what’s mine."

Their eyes locked, sharp and deep, like two storms clashing in silence. Lethia didn’t know what to say anymore.

Too many feelings rushed at her all at once, too much weight on her chest.

When Zeran pulled her back into his arms, she felt the warmth of him engulf her completely.

It wasn’t the heat of arousal—it was something softer, deeper. A heat that made her body finally stop fighting. Finally rest.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his back.

Zeran channelled his energy into a pheromone bond, letting it flow through the gentle strokes along Lethia’s back.

Yet for some reason, her embrace struck him like a pang in the chest.

’Just a little longer,’ he told himself.

After the marriage, after he marked her under the red moonlight, he would tell her the truth: that giving birth to a Lycan child could kill her.

Because he needed to prove the prophecy his mother told him—that the marking would awaken her wolf. And it could help prevent her from dying while giving birth.

Zeran closed his eyes, every fibre of his body aching for her from the bond their touch had ignited.

Somehow, for the first time in his life, he was afraid of making the wrong choice.

This woman had entered his world without warning, like fate itself, uncertain and unstoppable.

Even when Zeran had to make the impossible call to operate on his mother, knowing full well she wouldn’t survive, he didn’t flinch. He never feared the outcome.

For Zeran, there was always a backup plan. Even his backup plans had countermeasures to limit the losses.

But this woman...

The way her small hands held him from behind it shattered his certainty.

With her, there was no plan B.

No exit strategy.

All he knew was that no matter the risk, he couldn’t let go of those hands.