The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate
Chapter 95: Inner Circle Of The Pack

Chapter 95: Inner Circle Of The Pack

’Should have taken her head!’ Donovan’s wolf snarled within him, its rage evident. ’How dare she speak so low of our mate?! Let the curse consume her so we can be the ones to finish her first!’

The growl echoed through Donovan’s mind, and he could feel the feral snarl reverberate in his chest. Wolves, especially Alpha wolves, could never bear the sight of their mate being belittled by others.

Such insult cut deeper than any blade, and Donovan’s wolf was prepared to spill blood in order to restore honor. For a fleeting moment, the darkness of his curse called to him, tempting him to give in, just long enough to silence the loudmouth that dared defile his mate’s name. But he wouldn’t make the mistake of satisfying his curse’s bloodlusted desires.

"Remind me never to offend you," Esme’s voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was only then that he sensed they were already outside, the air feeling noticeably lighter from the shift in atmosphere.

Her cautious words nearly drew a laugh from him, the wariness in her tone unmistakable, whilst he fought the urge to let the amusement escape. But the sudden shift he sensed from her, as though she was upset with him, told him she hadn’t missed it, but it was too late to hide it now.

Esme couldn’t believe it — here she was, warning him sincerely, and he was on the verge of laughing at her. Maybe that’s what surprised her so much. She had grown accustomed to his ever-composed, calm demeanor, forgetting for a moment that he was more than capable of unleashing a fury that could make heads roll.

Yet, he held it back for her.

He had dimmed his presence, smothered that overwhelming, suffocating aura she had felt in the registrar’s office, just to ensure she could feel safer around him. Even now, she could feel the absence of that lethal power, leaving her with the unsettling realization that he had shown up not just for her, but for Finnian as well.

"How did you know about the whole situation happening in the registrar’s office?" Esme asked, curiosity laced in her voice, and Finnian moved to stand beside Donovan.

"I told him," he admitted. "I connected with him through the mind-link like last time. I mentioned we were being bothered by that strange-looking woman, and he came."

Listening to Finnian’s confession, Esme exhaled in mild exasperation. Despite her earlier instruction not to trouble Donovan, assuring her brother she could handle the situation, he had still reached out through their mind-link thingy to call for him.

"You should always call for me when you need help, no matter what," Donovan said, his tone firm and reassuring as he advised Finnian, who nodded eagerly.

"Okay!"

As Finnian walked ahead, Esme couldn’t resist bringing up the names Naya had mentioned to her. Her voice was sharp as she addressed Donovan. "Did you and that woman share some kind of past? A lover, maybe?"

Donovan raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

Esme’s irritation flared. "For starters, she kept calling me a mate-thief, accusing me of stealing you from her, spewing all sorts of other nonsense I can barely recall." Her frustration was evident in her tone.

"So, I think I deserve to know exactly what I’m dealing with here. Is Naya someone you were involved with?"

"Let me be clear — I was only fourteen when I was imprisoned," Donovan hinted to Esme. "I didn’t have that kind of relationship with anyone, least of all Naya. Before my imprisonment, many nobles tried to pair us together, wanting to mold us into the perfect mate for when we came of age. And yes, I did try to get to know her for familiarity sake, but she mocked me, called me names. I quickly realized that she was nothing more than a spoiled brat. After that, I stopped forcing myself to interact with her. But since my return to the damned, she hasn’t left me alone."

Esme glanced at Donovan, noticing the tension etched on his otherwise striking visage. A strange sense of relief flickered within her, almost pleased to hear that he had no interest in that troublesome woman.

Now that she understood the situation more clearly, it was obvious that Naya’s persistence likely stemmed from his newfound disinterest. It was ridiculous, but if that was why Naya kept calling her a mate-thief, then the woman had deeper issues than she thought.

She hadn’t stolen anyone, he was the one who had come to her.

Esme’s focus returned to the quiet path they had ventured into. She had no desire to draw the same curious or judgemental glances as before, so they opted for a different route — one more secluded.

The wide, winding path was lined with towering trees and thick bushes, casting long shadows across the road.

The few people who passed by lowered their gazes at the mere sight of Donovan. Everyone was elegantly dressed, and some had their curse marks on visible places, like their arms, neck, chest. Yet none of them bore the sheer number of marks that covered Donovan.

Why did he have so many? Has it always been like this, or was there a deeper reason behind why he had so many?

When they made it back to the Shadowspire, Donovan veered off in another direction, and as Esme’s eyes followed him, he suddenly stepped into a nearby chamber. To her surprise, she caught sight of Acheron, Lothar, Althea and Revana in there, all focused in what seemed like a deep conversation.

So, he had left an important meeting with them just to come help her?

A pang of guilt settled deep in her chest, and she stole a glance at Finnian who had already hurried off to test his uniform.

Slowly, she edged towards the door Donovan had entered moments before, curiosity gnawing at her as she pondered on what they could be discussing.

Pressing her ear against the door, she strained to catch even a whisper of conversation. But before she could make sense of anything, the door swung open abruptly, and she stumbled forward, right into Donovan’s chest.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as the sudden, unexpected closeness left her momentarily flustered. Quickly regaining her composure, she stepped back.

"I..." she tried to fumble for an excuse, but Donovan beat her to it.

"So you’re the sneaky heartbeat I sensed," he remarked with a twisted smile, his voice tinged with amusement. "If you wanted to join the conversation, you only had to ask."

Reaching for her hand, he led her inside before she could protest. As the door clicked shut behind them, the weight of silence in the room filled the air, making Esme acutely aware of every pair of eyes trained on the both of them.

Everyone was seated around a rectangular table, except the four corners of the dark wood had been elegantly curved, lending it an air of sophistication.

Above the table, two chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their candles extinguished. The room was quite dim, with heavy curtains drawn to allow only a measured amount of light to filter in, casting shadows across the space. It gave off a vibe that didn’t really sit with her, yet intrigued her at the same time.

She had never stepped foot in this chamber before, and her heart spiked as Donovan led her to the head table. He pulled back the grand chair at its end and sat down, looking like an evil duke about to plan something heinous.

To Esme’s shock, he unexpectedly drew her onto his lap in front of everyone, a bold gesture that left her breathless. In her moment of recovery, his deep voice finally broke the silence as he addressed her, "Welcome to the inner circle of the pack. This is where we hatch our plans before executing them. Whatever is spoken here stays within these walls unless there’s a consensus."

As Donovan explained, Esme’s eyes reluctantly shifted to the large sheet of parchment spread across the table. She fought to keep her mind from wandering to the fact that she was perched on Donovan’s lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in place against him.

The warmth of his touch lingered on her, and she had to fight the urge to lean back into him. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the strange occult-like situation she had found herself entangled in.

The parchment appeared to be some sort of map, perhaps of the borderlands from the North, because she could make out the outlines of a glacier. The map looked hastily sketched with routes and symbols she couldn’t immediately understand.

There was an unsettling allure to it all, as if she had stumbled into a world she didn’t belong in, yet the mystery and danger of it seemed entirely thrilling.

Kangee fluttered down and landed on the table with a soft caw, its beady eyes assessing everyone present.

"Shall we begin planning the heist?" Donovan’s lips curved into a dark, wicked smile that sent a shiver through her.

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