Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 7: Bewitched

Lethia pursed her lips and turned to the window, hiding the heat creeping up her face.

"What kind of treatment was that?"

"It works the same way as a heating pad or a massage belt used to ease menstrual cramps in humans. Your uterine muscles cramped from stress. It could be from you running in a frenzy earlier, too. That treatment helps relax the muscles around your uterus and lower abdomen, so..." He trailed off.

"So?"

The man met Lethia's gaze and chuckled. "I think you'd be even more flustered if we continued this conversation."

Lethia frowned. "It's even more embarrassing when you say it like that."

"Why would it be? Because you moaned? That's a perfectly normal sound to make when your muscles relax. I hear it all the time in the hospital."

"Do you think moaning in a car with a man I barely know is normal?" she grumbled, throwing her gaze out the window.

He laughed, clearly amused. "I'm flattered you see me as a man."

"And I'm not impressed that you see me as a desperate woman."

She should've just thanked him for easing the cramps in her stomach, but the moment had passed.

Saying it now would sound like she was thanking him for making her moan. Better to just play it cool and pretend nothing happened.

"But in that desperate moment, I admire how you still managed to think clearly. Good job choosing my car."

Lethia stared at him in disbelief. One second, he teased her effortlessly, and the next, he spoke with the same warmth as his touch against her skin.

"Who are you, really?"

"My name is Renar. And you?"

"That's not what I meant, but... don't you know me?" She wanted to test her own popularity—the flying stiletto wolfless, as the viral video had dubbed her.

"Should I?" He tilted his head. "Will you be offended if I don't?"

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"No! It's better that way, really."

Her so-called fame wasn't something to be proud of. The last thing she needed was more embarrassment in front of this stranger.

Lethia caught sight of the Brookwood village gate, its name glowing in neon against the iron archway.

Brookwood was the largest village, its fertile land a vital source of crops for the entire nation.

Multicoloured lights lined the road, casting a festive glow that did little to lift the heaviness settling in Lethia's chest.

As she watched a couple walk past, hands entwined, their laughter light in the festival glow, she wondered how long before that girl ended up like her—discarded, disgraced. 'Perhaps it's just my luck that's suck.'

Renar cleared his throat, pulling her from her thoughts.

"What will you do here? Seeking refuge?" he asked.

"Yeah, kind of."

Lethia's half-hearted imitation of his words made Renar chuckle. This wolfless woman amused him.

His mind drifted back to the moment she stepped out of the black van—the way her maroon hair billowed in the wind had caught his attention instantly.

He had sensed trouble the moment he saw her, the way those three omegas trailed her towards the restroom.

But, countryside customs were clear—no one interfered in pack matters. Packs outside the capital still clung to their old ways.

Renar had been ready to leave the charging station when he saw her again—this time, running, dressed differently, her headscarf ripped away by the wind.

The glow of the overhead lights made her maroon waves blaze like velvety fire, each strand moving with an untamed elegance.

It was mesmerising, tantalising—his breath had caught, his pulse hammering like a drum roll as she sprinted straight for his car.

Instinctively, his hand moved before thought, pressing the button to unlock the passenger door—something she wouldn't have been able to open on her own.

"Can you drop me near Holae Street—?"

Lethia's voice trailed off, pulling Renar from his thoughts. He caught the hesitation in her eyes, the way she curled her lips as if rethinking her request.

"Please..." her tone softened.

"Sure." A smirk played on Renar's lips.

He could have laughed at himself. It was so unlike him to meddle in a stranger's affairs, yet here he was, all because he'd been bewitched by the sheer beauty of the woman's hair.

And her sharp tongue? It suited her perfectly. She reminded him of his beloved Freya who was waiting for him back at his penthouse—his maroon-furred, long-haired Greek-Crescent cat.