The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy
Chapter 23: Comforting Her Instinctively

Chapter 23: Comforting Her Instinctively

She was predictable but bold.

I heard her moving around, shuffling things, probably plotting her exit like a small, clever thief. And when she finally climbed out of the bathroom window, her hair hastily tied up, my leather jacket thrown over her slim frame—my jacket—everything inside me roared with possessiveness.

I nearly caught her as she stumbled to the ground, but I let her fall.

She needed to feel that brief, biting pain—the reminder that running wasn’t as easy as she thought.

And when she stood up and noticed me standing there—waiting—I saw the exact moment her heart dropped.

"Let’s go," I said.

Her wide, shocked eyes blinked up at me. "What? Where?"

I allowed myself a small smile. "I thought you’d want to be dressed nicely to go to the vet, but it seems you prefer my clothes instead."

She blinked again, utterly lost. "What?"

I tilted my head, pretending not to notice the way my jacket swallowed her, or how damn good she looked in it. "We don’t want to be late for the appointment."

"The vet?" she echoed, still stuck somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

"For Boyd," I said softly. "Remember?"

Realization struck her like lightning.

Her face lit up—not for me—but for her dog. And yet, I felt that surge of warmth in my chest anyway.

"Oh my god—really?" she squealed, the first genuine smile I’d seen from her breaking through the tension. "Let’s go!"

The sound of her excitement—her happiness—was something I wanted to bottle and keep forever.

I opened the car door for her, and as we drove through the empty morning streets, I didn’t miss the way she kept glancing at me, like she was trying to piece everything together.

But I didn’t say anything.

I just let the silence hang between us, the soft thrum of the car engine filling the space where words didn’t need to be.

When we pulled up to the clinic, her parents were already there, Boyd in their arms and their faces set in that same, familiar scowl.

I felt Olivia tense beside me.

And when her father’s gaze landed on the jacket she wore—the one still heavy with my scent—I saw the anger simmer behind his eyes.

Good. Let him stew.

Olivia, though—she went stiff, panic flashing across her face as if she was already preparing for whatever cruel words would come next.

Her mother’s gaze flickered from the jacket to me and back again, and I saw the gears turning in her head—calculating, judging.

I leaned down, my hand brushing the small of Olivia’s back in a slow, deliberate move.

She’s mine.

And when Olivia didn’t pull away, when her body unconsciously leaned the tiniest bit closer, I knew her parents noticed.

I wanted them to.

Because this wasn’t just about a sick dog.

This was about Olivia.

My mate.

And they were going to learn, one way or another, that no matter how much they tried to crush her, I would be there.

Every time.

I knew the exact moment Olivia broke.

Not in the way her parents would have liked, not in fear or submission, but in the quiet, unguarded way people do when they’re touched by something they didn’t expect.

It happened after Boyd’s checkup, when the vet finished the treatment and assured her it wasn’t anything serious, just a minor issue caught early.

Relief washed over her like a crashing wave.

She blinked once. Twice.

Then her lips quivered, and her breath hitched.

I saw it coming, the tears, the sudden burst of raw emotion, and before I knew what I was doing, my hand was already cupping her cheek.

"Olivia..." I murmured, my thumb brushing away a tear before it could fall too far.

Her wide, tear-soaked eyes searched mine, and for the first time since we met, I saw it.

Acceptance.

Not entirely, not fully, but a crack in her walls, a small fissure where I slipped through.

And the mate bond...

Gods, the mate bond roared in my chest, pulling me toward her like a magnetic force. Her pain was my pain. Her relief was my relief.

I didn’t think, I just acted.

I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering a moment longer than I should have, breathing her in. She smelled like my leather jacket, the rain from last night, and something warm and undeniably her.

She didn’t pull away.

Didn’t flinch.

I just stood there, with my lips on her skin, letting me comfort her the only way I knew how.

And when I finally pulled back, Boyd was watching me too, his large, dark eyes calmer than before, his tail giving a soft thump against the floor.

Even the dog accepted me.

One step closer.

Her parents, though... that was another matter.

They stood stiffly across the room, her father’s jaw tight, her mother’s lips pursed so sharply I thought they might disappear entirely.

But I wasn’t here for them.

I was here for her.

Still, this conversation needed to happen.

I led Olivia outside, my hand a steady weight at the small of her back, and we approached her parents without a word at first, just the cold morning air swirling between us.

Then I spoke.

"Let’s go," I said simply.

Her father stiffened. "Where?"

"Home."

He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off with a look.

I wasn’t in the mood for games.

We drove in tense silence, the road stretching out before us, and the only sound was the faint rustle of Boyd shifting in Olivia’s lap. She kept her hand on his back the entire time, her fingers lightly running through his fur.

I kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh, but I could still feel her beside me, like the mate bond was a living thing between us.

When we reached their house, I stepped out first, then opened the car door for Olivia.

Her father hesitated on the front porch, and her mother crossed her arms, a classic defensive stance.

But I didn’t care about their silent judgments.