Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 111: Stamina

The feeling of being cared for was something the original Riven yearned for. But his father had never given him that. The man had been too busy dismissing him as useless, worthless... Riven wished he had never been born because of this man.

Riven felt a pang of sadness for the original Riven, and a fresh resolve sparked in his heart. This was why he was going back—to take revenge on that worthless father and his arrogant stepbrother. He was not the weak, neglected boy anymore.

And fine, he was indeed borrowing Ronan’s power, but so what? Ronan was his mate, so why can’t he use some of Ronan’s power? Riven did not feel guilty. He wanted revenge for the original Riven one way or another.

Seeing Riven’s expression be so serious, Ronan was slightly worried. He sent one of his men to go back and release Raphael from prison. He was worried about Riven’s reaction.

He leaned down and brushed his lips over Riven’s forehead. "Ready?" He asked.

Riven gave a small nod, and Ronan took a step back, his body already shifting mid-movement. In mere seconds, his wolf form took over—massive, regal, and intimidating, his snow-white fur catching the morning light. He lowered himself slightly, giving Riven an easy way to climb onto his back.

Riven hesitated, feeling oddly shy despite everything. He carefully approached and placed his hands against Ronan’s thick fur, feeling the powerful muscles rippling underneath. With a deep breath, he swung his leg over and settled on Ronan’s back, gripping tightly but gently, not wanting to hurt him.

Ronan glanced back, his bright eyes locking onto Riven’s with silent reassurance. Riven felt his heart race, but it wasn’t out of fear or anxiety—it was excitement.

He was riding a wolf! How exciting!

As the other wolves rose to their feet, Ronan gave a low growl—an order. They immediately formed a protective formation around him and Riven, their heads raised high, proud and vigilant.

Riven tightened his grip on Ronan’s fur and took a deep breath. When Ronan started moving, Riven felt the graceful, powerful strides of the alpha beneath him. It was smoother than he expected, and despite his initial nervousness, he found himself relaxing into the rhythm.

Riven couldn’t help but smile, the wind brushing against his cheeks as they moved swiftly through the path out of the territory.

They had been traveling for nearly four hours.

The landscape shifted from towering trees to low valleys and winding paths of golden grass. Perched on Ronan’s back, Riven kept a steady grip, his legs tightening around the Alpha’s sides, arms buried into the thick, warm fur for support.

At first, it had been exhilarating—wind in his hair, the sensation of power beneath him—but now, his excitement was steadily giving way to fatigue.

He shifted slightly, trying to ease the dull ache in his thighs. The muscles had been clenched for too long, and a cramp was beginning to form.

His lower back tensed with each bounce of Ronan’s stride, and his fingers, once tangled playfully in white fur, were now grasping it in desperation. He was getting tired. More than tired. He was aching in places he didn’t know could ache.

His cheeks flushed slightly. He was blushing about the Alpha’s stamina.

Ronan didn’t seem even remotely tired. The Alpha’s stamina was, frankly, unfair. Each bound was fluid, strong, and unrelenting. Four hours and not even a wobble. His breathing hadn’t changed. His energy hadn’t dropped. Riven glanced down at the curve of Ronan’s back, the muscles beneath his coat shifting like coiled ropes of strength and heat.

With each and every moment, it was becoming clearer to Riven that Ronan truly held back during the rut, simply for his sake.

Imagine if Ronan had his way, fulfilling all his desires... Riven shook his head, the tingly feeling in his ears refused to stop, his thoughts were filled with what could have happened.

Riven bit his lip and tried to push through, but eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.

"Ronan..." he called softly, leaning forward. "Can we... take a break? My legs are cramping."

Ronan slowed at once, his large head tilting slightly as he gave an acknowledging nod. He came to a stop near a winding dirt path that curved toward a small town nestled between hills and stone.

A wooden sign creaked overhead, and scattered houses came into view—quaint, with smoke curling from chimneys and the distant smell of something freshly baked wafting through the breeze.

Riven slid off Ronan’s back with a stifled groan, stumbling a little as his legs trembled. "Ugh, they’re asleep," he muttered.

Ronan shifted back to his human form and quickly caught the wobbling little wolf. He held Riven closer before he chided, "You should’ve said something earlier, let’s get some food in that belly while we’re here."

"Nope." Riven stretched his legs out, wincing. "My thighs feel like they’re going to fall off."

"Want me to carry you?" Ronan asked seriously.

Riven thought he was teasing him and pouted. He shook his head again, his ears drooping because of his tired state.

The small restaurant was tucked into the corner of the town square, half-hidden behind a curtain of ivy and old painted wood.

The sign above the door read The Morning Hearth, and inside, it smelled like roasted garlic and sizzling butter. A warm fire crackled near the hearth, and a few locals looked up as they entered, but no one paid them too much attention.

Ronan stepped up to the host and leaned in. "A private table, if you have one."

The man blinked at him, eyes wide, clearly recognising that Ronan was no ordinary man.

He nodded quickly and ushered them to a back room separated by a wooden partition. It was cozy—one small window let in the afternoon light, and the table was set with dark linen and silver cutlery.

Ronan, instead of sitting across Riven, chose to take a seat beside him.