Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 130: I’ll Punish You

Chapter 130: I’ll Punish You

The once noisy hall fell into complete silence as every eye turned to Lethia.

’So this is it. That strange word ’honour’ she mentioned. She wants to humiliate me.’

Lethia wondered why a woman who looked like a hawk would be kind enough to lend her such an expensive dress in the first place.

"Don’t mind her. Let’s just go home," Zeran said firmly, trying to lead her away. But Lethia stopped him with a gentle grip on his arm.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted with the power you gave me, right? I’m going to do what I’m best at."

Zeran gripped both her arms, spinning her around to face him.

"Look at me." Their eyes locked. "But are you really okay?"

Lethia clicked her tongue, annoyed. Why the hell did he keep asking that? Was she supposed to not be okay? For what? What good would that do?

"Miss Lethia, would you please step forward? Come here," Reia called again, her voice dripping with false courtesy.

Lethia yanked her arms back and slipped from Zeran’s hold, giving him a reassuring look that she could handle it.

She stepped toward the podium with steady strides, chin lifted high, her palms clenched tight on the sides of her dress.

Reia handed her the mic, her hand still latched onto Renar’s arm, as if letting go would mean the stiff, lifeless, dry-squid of a man beside her might get snatched up by another wolf.

Lethia stared out at the crowd with a churn in her gut. Moments ago, those same faces had flashed fake smiles during Renar and Reia’s kiss. Now, they looked at her like predators disgusted by their prey.

But she didn’t stand there to satisfy their curiosity about her journey as a VIP Aide. She stood there thinking—what kind of persona did she want to leave behind at this Gala?

She drew a deep, intentional breath.

"This... was not an easy journey. I’m sure many of you have been wondering if I landed the VIP Aide position because a certain sponsor and I had good sex."

Her grip on the mic tightened, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"To disappoint you all, the answer is no."

"I worked hard to be accepted as an Executive Aide first," Lethia said, pausing for a moment. "Is that what you want to hear?" She let out a low chuckle. "Without diminishing my respect for the other Executive Aide colleagues who fought hard for their positions, I’m sorry, but my hard work was in vain."

"Because... no matter how hard I work, even if I just lie around, I’ll still get the position."

The guests began whispering among themselves, clearly displeased either by her explanation or simply by her existence.

"Do you all know why that is?" Lethia’s gaze locked onto Zeran’s.

"Because I’m special. Special enough that Zeran Tuffin gave me this golden pin and pinned it on me himself. And that kind of specialty can’t be taught. It’s just... like fate. A fate Ashenhold doesn’t believe in."

"So, for those of you dreaming of becoming VIP Aides, go find yourselves a sponsor who appreciates your kind of special. I’m only here because I know after this, the talk about me will spread, and that will help me build a famous persona. I thank you all for that."

Lethia smirked as she finished her unmotivated speech.

A storm of disbelief and half-suppressed reactions rippled across the room.

If they wanted some motivational bullshit, they should’ve just read a philosophy book.

Lethia was simply being her rebellious self, stating the facts as they were.

She turned and handed the mic back to Reia, who looked at her in stunned disbelief. Then, after shooting Renar a sharp glare, she stepped down from the podium.

Her steps were sharp and graceful, commanding the space as the crowd instinctively parted to let her pass. Her eyes stayed fixed on Zeran, who hadn’t stopped smiling softly at her the whole time. She took his arm, and the two of them left the hall together.

Inside the car, Lethia let out a heavy sigh, her fists clenching and unclenching against her dress, damp with cold sweat. She could feel Zeran’s eyes on her.

"Don’t tease me. You said I can do whatever I want," she yelped.

"And you did it well. That speech was just so Lethia."

She bit her bottom lip, fidgeting. "Zeran... did you feel like Renar was in pain?"

Zeran didn’t respond. Lethia turned to look at him, their eyes meeting.

"Do you like him?" His voice was deep, the question sudden and cutting.

Lethia flinched, her brows tightening. "W–what? N–no... I’m just—"

Zeran didn’t let Lethia finish her words; his lips were already on hers within seconds. Her eyes widened in shock as he pressed into her, his kiss tender but deep enough to let her taste the lingering vodka on his tongue.

He pulled back, leaving her blinking.

Then, his fingers curled around her waist, tugging her closer as he lifted one of her thighs onto his lap.

"You just burned that hall down like the firefox you are. Did you forget? That could turn me on."

Zeran stroked her cheek with a soft touch, then tilted her chin up, closing the space between them. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl with goosebumps, and her thighs instinctively clenched.

"And even if you do like him, don’t you fucking show it to me. I’ll punish you."

With one possessive pull, their lips collided again, this time, he sucked, bit, and nibbled at her mouth until she couldn’t stop gasping, her breath stolen with each pass of his tongue.

The space between them vanished as they breathed each other in, living off the sound of each other’s desperation.

***

"Let it go!" Renar snapped at Reia, shaking her hand off as they stood watching the gala guests leave the hall one by one.

"Renar, we—"

"Let. It. Go. Or I’ll yank my arm off and that will humiliate you even more."

Reluctantly, Reia loosened her grip. She could feel the fury radiating off him.

"And never, ever pull that kind of cheap show again. Or our deal is void."

"But you kissed me back. You used me, too, didn’t you?"

"Hm. I used you. That was the first... and the last time."