The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 192: This Will Only Take A Minute

When Marissa scurried away after Esme gently asked for a moment alone, Esme’s gaze lingered on the girl as she darted past Donovan. He was approaching with his unwavering attention fixed solely on her, his presence commanding yet softened by the faintest, affectionate smile tugging at his lips.

He stopped at the dais, amusement glimmering in his eyes as he attempted to mimic her earlier demeanor.

"I am Esmeray Montague," he began, his deep voice deliberately laced with mock seriousness as he faced the imaginative crowd. "Daughter of Alpha Damon Montague, and I am your Luna. You will treat me as such—"

"Please, don’t tell me you saw all that," Esme groaned, burying her face in her hands, whilst her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment. Donovan’s warm chuckle reached her ears, a sound that sent her heart into a flurry of unsteady beats.

"That was actually my favorite part," he admitted, crouching gracefully before her as she sat on her intricately adorned seat.

His gaze softened as it traveled over her, and his teasing gave way to concern. "My second favorite moment was when you slapped that man. Though I was a little worried about your hand afterwards. His face looked like it was carved from stone."

Without waiting for a reply, he gently took her hand in his, his touch careful and reverent. Lifting it to his lips, he pressed the lightest kiss to her palm, the warmth of his breath lingering on her skin. Esme’s breath hitched, and she quickly pushed back a few loose strands of hair from her flushed face.

"I’m fine," she assured him softly, her voice steadier than she felt. "But you can’t tell me I was wrong, can you?"

"Wrong?" Donovan’s response came without a moment’s hesitation. "Never. You’re their Luna, and you’ve earned their respect, more than they’ll ever deserve. Putting a few loud mouths in their place isn’t wrong; it’s necessary. It’s called discipline."

The sincerity in his tone melted any lingering doubt in her heart. Letting out a soft sigh, Esme sank back into her seat as the tension in her body faded. Her relaxed gaze flickered to Donovan again, only to see he hadn’t stopped staring at her, his expression brimming with something unspoken yet unmistakably tender.

His eyes held the usual mesmerizing sparkle, one that seemed to pierce through her carefully guarded composure. Unable to bear the intensity of his attention, Esme reached out, placing her palm gently over his eyes.

"Are you planning to stare at me all day?" she murmured, her voice a blend of exasperation and nervous humor.

"You’re the only one worth looking at, Esme, I can’t help it," Donovan replied smoothly, his voice honeyed and disarming.

He gently peeled her hand from his eyes, his grip tender yet firm as he straightened from his crouch. Leaning forward, he loomed over her, the sudden closeness sending her heart into a wild rhythm. The chair creaked faintly beneath her as his shadow enveloped her completely, trapping her in place.

"Why shouldn’t I make the most of this chance?" he murmured, his words brushing against her like a caress. "When I have the most beautiful, lovely woman in the entire universe right in front of me."

"That’s... quite the exaggeration,"Esme replied, her voice faltering as her cheeks flushed under his heated gaze.

"Not to me," he whispered, leaning closer still. Esme’s breath hitched once more as her eyes darted nervously around the room. The grandeur of the hall, though currently empty, was no sanctuary for the private moment Donovan seemed intent on creating, so it was necessary to stop him.

Her hand pressed firmly against his chest, halting his advance. "This hall is not some private chamber," she whispered, keeping her voice low and urgent. "Someone could see us."

Donovan’s gaze fell to where her hand rested against his chest, the warmth of her touch evident even through the layers of his clothing. Slowly, his eyes lifted back to hers, and she could see the wicked intent in his smirk before she felt it in his actions.

He proceeded to grasp her wrist with a commanding ease, pinning her hands to the armrest as he bent further.

"You’re my mate, after all," he murmured. "So let them see," his voice was a low growl of defiance before his lips claimed hers.

Esme’s resolve crumbled the moment his mouth met hers, her sharp intake of breath giving way to the heat of his kiss. His tongue brushed against hers with a fervor that left her dizzy, whilst the taste of him rekindled a hunger she had tried to suppress. His kiss was intoxicating, an unapologetic declaration that seemed to always erase the world around them.

She knew she should stop, push him away again, maybe? But how could she? The truth was, she didn’t want to.

Her hand, once meant to hold him at bay, had now freed themselves from his clutches. They curled into the fabric of his shirt as she melted into him. Shamelessly, she surrendered to the pull of his kisses, their breaths mingling as she gave in to his scent, and him in total.

"I feel like I’m in a rut," Donovan murmured, his voice a low whisper as he pulled back, his lips hovering just enough to make Esme’s heart miss a beat. She tilted her head, her hair cascading over her shoulder like silk, and the subtle curve of her lips was enough to make him forget the world outside all over again.

"Are you?" she teased, her tone light, yet the sparkle in her blue eyes hinted at something far more inviting.

"Care to find out?" he shot back with a mischievous grin. Before she could respond, he swept her up effortlessly into his arms, holding her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever carried. Her startled gasp turned into a soft laughter, the sound of it wrapping around him like a melody he never wanted to stop hearing.

He had come here with a purpose— meeting with her so she could bring Dahmer over and listen to his apologies. Then he would kill Dahmer if his woman wasn’t satisfied with it. But the moment he saw her, the logical part of his mind unraveled. There was something about Esme that always did this to him. Even after marking her, his desires for her only intensified, burning hotter with every stolen glance and every touch.

She was the only one who could quiet the storm inside him. Dahmer’s issues can always wait.

"Maybe next time you make an introduction," Donovan said, his voice dropping into a rich, teasing cadence, "I want to hear something like, ’I’m the wife of Alpha Donovan.’ doesn’t that sound more catchy?"

He spun them both in a graceful twirl, with Esme’s laughter echoing softly in his ears. The hem of her dress flared out with the movement, catching the dim light like rippling liquid gold.

In that moment, they looked like something out of a dream– two souls glowing under the flicker of the chandelier, caught in their own perfect universe.

Esme didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands brushing against his chest as if she, too, had no intention of breaking the spell they were under. For a heartbeat, it felt like nothing could intrude the moment.

That was until Orion and Atticus entered the room. The two warriors stopped abruptly, their eyes widening at the sight before them. Without hesitation, they dipped their heads in a bow, clearly trying to suppress their reactions to the intimate scene they had walked in.

Esme’s cheeks burned as she buried her face against Donovan’s shoulder in embarrassment, having been caught like this by her own personal guards. She wanted to come down, but Donovan’s arm tightened around her protectively instead, making that action futile for her.

"Alpha. Luna. The royal courier has arrived," Atticus announced, his voice carefully neutral, though he couldn’t miss the tension thick in the air.

Donovan’s jaw tightened at the information they brought, his irritation palpable. A dark thought flickered in his mind— how satisfying it would be to carve the royal courier in two for his impeccable timing. They had waited for hours, and now, at the very moment he had Esme where he wanted her, the courier chose to appear.

Esme simply shifted in Donovan’s arms, clearly hoping he’d set her down. "I’ll be out in a minute," she called to Atticus, maintaining a calm and composed voice despite her predicament. Yet, Donovan made no move to release her. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Atticus and Orion exchanged a glance, feeling uneasy under the weight of their Alpha’s glare. It was the kind of look that retribution, and they knew better than to linger. Without another word, they retreated from the hall.

"Someone needs to give him his blindfold back," Atticus couldn’t help but whisper to Orion as he was shakened. "He’s even more scary without them."

Meanwhile, in the hall, Esme turned her attention to Donovan. "Don, did you hear them?" her voice was soft as she searched his eyes for a response. "The royal courier is here. We need to see what the King has sent."

But Donovan’s grip did not falter. Esme, with her determined nature, slipped from his arms just before he could argue. She smoothed her dress with practiced ease, casting him a quick, playful glance over her shoulder as she strode toward the exit.

Donovan stood rooted for a moment, watching her go with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. He clearly hated the interruption, hated the way she could easily command his presence and then leave him trailing in her wake. Was he doing too much? He didn’t know, but regardless of what he felt, he followed her still, running his fingers through his hair.

After answering the courier, Esme returned to her private study. Her brows furrowed slightly as she scrutinized the envelope in her clutches, her fingers rubbing over the seal before breaking it open to reveal its content. Donovan stood lazily against the wall, arms crossed, his watchful gaze following her every movement, while also waiting for her to tell him what was in the letter.

"It’s a reminder from the King," Esme finally said after she was done, releasing a soft sigh of relief. "I thought it might be something far more urgent, but it’s only to inform me about the meeting. How strange, after what happened in the East, I thought he’d be looking into that more. At the same time, I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?"

"Who cares about what he wants," Donovan’s deep voice rumbled in reply to Esme’s query, his tone carrying both jealousy, and a dismissive edge.

He crossed the room in two quick strides, plucking the letter from her hand and placing it on the desk. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him in one smooth motion. "If it’s not urgent, then forget the King– forget everyone else."

"Don," Esme murmured, her hand instinctively resting on his chest to keep some semblance of space between them. "I will do exactly that, but first, I still need to examine your eyes. I need to ensure you won’t face any complications later on, so please, sit down."

As much as Donovan wanted to defy her orders, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, not when she was looking at him in that manner. Esme pulled out a chair for him, and he sat down with a reluctant sigh. He watched as she slipped on her gloves with practiced ease, but what he didn’t expect was the way she approached him next.

Instead of standing before him, Esme swung a leg over his lap, straddling him with unflinching confidence. Donovan’s pupils darkened, and whatever protest he might have formed vanished the instant she leaned in.

"Relax," she whispered, her voice smooth and sultry as she tilted her head, her breath teasingly close to his ear. "This will only take a minute."