A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 65: Forbidden Journey

Ovelia’s POV

My fingers clenched around Ace’s sword hilt until the leather groaned in protest. This weight... it’s heavier than the kitchen cleavers I’m used to. But if it means protecting Ace— I cut off the thought as Chief Gareth’s shadow fell across us.

"Where are you two headed?" His voice rumbled through the quiet house like distant thunder. The teacup in his hands trembled slightly, sending tiny waves across the dark surface of his brew. The deep grooves between his eyebrows deepened as his gaze locked onto the weapon at my hip.

After everything he’d done for us, Chief Gareth deserved truth, even if it meant facing his wrath.

"Chief Gareth," I began, my voice thin as parchment. A cold sweat prickled between my shoulder blades. "We have to warn Ace, Ray and Philip." The words came faster now, tumbling over each other in their rush to escape. "Witches are moving toward the northwest forest tonight—they’re working with the bandits. If we don’t go now—"

The chair shrieked against the wooden floor as Chief Gareth surged to his feet. His palms hit the table with a crack that made my shoulders jerk. "Absolutely not!" The force of his refusal sent ripples through his tea. "I gave Ace my word I’d keep you safe."

Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "Please," I whispered, my fingers twisting in the coarse fabric of my borrowed blazer sleeves. The wool scratched against my knuckles. "If we don’t warn them... if something happens to Ace..." His name broke in my mouth, the mere possibility sending jagged ice through my veins.

For a heartbeat, something flickered in Chief Gareth’s stern expression—understanding, perhaps. But then he shook his head, the firelight glinting off the silver streaks in his beard. "I’ll send one of the hunters—"

Ann moved so suddenly I gasped. Gone was the playful maid who’d teased me about my feelings just hours before. In her place stood a woman carved from winter steel, her spine straight as a blade. "With all respect, Chief," she said, her words clipped and precise, "by the time you rally someone, it’ll be too late." Her voice carried a quiet authority that made the hairs on my arms stand upright.

Chief Gareth’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline as Ann continued, her tone low and measured. "I was Crimsonheart Kingdom’s assassin. Phantom Wing division." She extended her claws with a soft snikt, the curved points catching the firelight. "I can outrun any hunter in this village." Her black eyes burned with intensity. "And I will protect Ovelia with my life."

The air grew thick enough to choke on. Chief Gareth’s jaw worked silently as he studied Ann—really studied her—for what might have been the first time. His chest rose and fell with a sigh that seemed to come from his very bones. "You’d go even if I forbade it, wouldn’t you?"

Ann didn’t blink. "Yes."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the hearth. Finally, Chief Gareth scrubbed a hand over his face, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Stubborn women," he muttered, but the fight had drained from his voice. He fixed us with a look that made my stomach twist. "Just... come back alive. All of you."

"Thank you," Ann and I breathed in unison. The smile Chief Gareth attempted didn’t reach his eyes, which remained dark with worry.

The night air struck like a physical blow as we stepped outside, so cold it punched the breath from my lungs. I tugged the blazer tighter around my shoulders, but the chill seeped through the fabric, settling deep in my marrow.

Gareth’s POV

The wooden chair groaned as I leaned back, my fingers kneading the tension gathering at my temples. The empty teacup sat before me, its dark stains circling the bottom like accusations. Had I made the right choice letting them go? The question clawed at my gut with each passing minute.

Ace’s face flashed in my mind—those silver eyes burning with protective fury when he’d made me swear to keep Ovelia safe. My palms grew damp against the table’s rough grain. A chief’s promise was meant to be unbreakable, yet here I sat, having shattered mine. The night air seeping through the window carried the distant hoot of an owl, making my shoulders tense.

I pushed up from the table with more force than necessary, the legs scraping against the floorboards. The porcelain cup rattled in my unsteady grip as I carried it to the sink. The faucet handle resisted for a moment before giving way with a metallic shriek, sending water cascading into the basin. I watched the stream blur my reflection in the curved surface, wishing it could just as easily wash away this gnawing dread. But the unease clung like river mud—thick, stubborn, impossible to shake.

My hands moved automatically, scrubbing at tea stains that had long since set. The coarse sponge scraped against my fingertips, the sharp scent of lemon soap cutting through the stillness. Through the window above the sink, the night sky stretched endlessly, its cold stars blinking indifferently.

I found my fingers tightening around the cup’s rim, the ceramic biting into my skin. The prayer rose unbidden from somewhere deep in my chest:

"Please." The word escaped as barely more than a whisper, my breath fogging the glass. "Keep Ovelia and Ann safe on their path. Protect Ace, Ray and Philip in those cursed woods." My thumb rubbed circles against the damp porcelain, the motion uneven. "Send the Crimsonheart and Silverhowl troops swiftly. Let Khaleed’s warnings be nothing more than a nightmare."

The cup slipped from my grasp, landing in the drying rack with a hollow clink that echoed through the too-quiet house. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the shutters like some restless spirit. I braced my hands against the sink’s edge, the cold metal seeping into my palms.

Ovelia’s POV

The evening air carried a sharp bite as Ann and I stood in the dirt path outside Chief Gareth’s house. A damp chill crept through my clothes, raising goosebumps along my arms. My breath formed faint wisps in the cooling air, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.

Ann took three measured steps away from me, her boots kicking up small puffs of dust from the dry path. "Lady Ovelia," she said, her evening-crisp voice cutting through the quiet, "I’ll transform now. When I’m ready, you’ll climb onto my back." Her fingers flexed, the joints popping in anticipation.

The transformation happened almost before I could blink. Fabric strained and tore with sharp snapping sounds as Ann’s body expanded. The rapid crunch and pop of reshaping bones sent involuntary shivers down my spine. Rich black fur sprouted across her stretching skin, gleaming copper where the last sunlight touched it. The entire process took barely three seconds—astonishingly swift compared to Ray or Ace’s more gradual changes.

When the final shudder passed through her now-lupine form, Ann turned her massive head toward me. Her black eyes glowed with their own inner light in the gathering dusk. "Did I startle you, Lady Ovelia?" The words rumbled up from her chest in a voice both warmly familiar and thrillingly wild.

I shook my head, though my pulse still fluttered like a trapped bird beneath my ribs. This powerful werewolf form couldn’t disguise Ann’s essence—I recognized her in the attentive tilt of her ears, in the way her claws flexed against the packed earth just like her human fingers had moments before.

Ann’s wolfish grin revealed a flash of white teeth in the twilight. She lowered her front quarters in invitation, her powerful muscles bunching with contained energy. "Climb aboard, my lady!" Her deep voice vibrated with barely restrained excitement. "I may not match Sir Ace or Ray for sheer size, but I promise won’t drop you." Her tail gave an enthusiastic sweep, stirring up dust from the path.

Any lingering hesitation vanished as I stepped forward. My hands sank into the thick fur at her shoulders—softer than I expected, with a dense undercoat that radiated warmth. As I swung my leg over her broad back, I could feel the coiled power in her muscles, like springs waiting to release.

"Hold tight now!" Ann’s warning rumbled through me just before she launched forward.

The world blurred into streaks of dusky colors. Wind rushed past my face, carrying the scents of dry grass and distant pine. My fingers tightened instinctively in Ann’s fur, but her movements remained fluid—powerful strides that devoured the ground with effortless grace. The forest ahead grew darker as we raced toward it, shadows lengthening between the trees.

Beneath me, Ann’s body radiated comforting warmth, her muscles working in perfect rhythm. The evening chill that had seeped into my bones was forgotten, replaced by the thrill of our headlong dash. Tree trunks became dark sentinels flashing past as we hurtled toward the northwest forest, toward Ace and the others.