His Witchy Mate

Mira, my closest friend, was determined about continuing her work despite the danger. I understood her need for money, but every day she went out made me worry. And now, the dread that clouded her eyes told me that something big had happened today.

“What happened out there?” I asked. My curiosity spiked as I braced myself for whatever news she was about to share. As I watched her shaken, I felt my heartbreak for her. I can only imagine what it must have been like for her.

Mira seemed to need no urging, pouring out her words in no time.

The image she painted with her words was horrifying-a werewolf tearing apart a witch’s body. The brutality of the scene made my stomach churn, and I had to fight the urge to look away.

As Mira described the blood-red claws and the piercing red eyes, a shiver ran down my spine. The detail about how the werewolf’s gaze had met hers, freezing her in place, sent a chill through me. It was as if I could feel the pressure of that gaze, even though I hadn’t experienced it myself.

I could see the fear etched on Mira’s face, the trauma of the encounter still fresh in her mind. The horrors of this war had a way of leaving a deep mark on those who witnessed them. I couldn’t blame her for running away; it was a fight or flight response, and she had chosen to save her own life.

“I can’t even imagine how terrifying that must have been, Mira,” I said softly, my heart aching for my friend. The world had become a nightmarish place, a stage for horrors we could hardly fathom.

As Mira’s words lingered in the air, the weight of our reality settled upon us once again. The war had brought out the worst in both witches and werewolves, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be an end to this cycle of violence and fear.

I couldn’t help but cringe at Mira’s description. A mixture of disbelief and disgust bending my expression. The image she had painted was horrifying, and I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t been there to witness it myself.

“Brave? More like foolishly stubborn. I’d rather not be in a situation where I witness something like that.” My voice held a wry tone, my disgust evident. It was difficult to imagine the kind of brutality that had become commonplace in our world.

As Mira settled down beside me, my curiosity grew. Her words promised something significant, and I was all ears.

“News? What news?” I inquired, my gaze fixed on Mira’s face. Her expression spoke loud and clear even before she started talking, and I braced myself for whatever bomb she was about to drop.

The news hit me like a heavy blow. The war was over, and the werewolves had won. A mixture of shock, disbelief, and dread washed over me. The thought that our enemies-the same creatures who had wreaked havoc in my life-were now in control filled me with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

My face paled as I processed the information. The memory of a werewolf’s cruelty flooded my mind-the betrayal, the pain, the humiliation. It was as if I could feel his grip on me once again, and my fists clenched involuntarily.

Mira’s words about the Alpha taking over the throne added fuel to the fire of my anger. The werewolves, who I had come to associate with suffering and despair, now held power over us. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Foolish! This is utter madness!” I exclaimed. My voice was tinged with anger. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of resentment towards the werewolves. They had taken everything from me, and now they were going to rule over us? It was a reality I couldn’t accept.

“They’re monsters, Mira. Cunning, ruthless monsters.” My voice trembled with a mix of frustration and despair. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on me. The witches’ surrender felt like a betrayal in itself, a concession to those who had caused so much pain.

As I voiced my thoughts, my anger only intensified. It was hard to accept that the world I had known had crumbled into chaos, and the ones responsible were now in control. My hands shook with the force of my emotions, and a fire burned in my chest.

“I won’t stand for this, Mira. I refuse to let them take control without a fight,” I said, my determination solidifying in my words. Despite the overwhelming odds, I couldn’t let go of my anger and my desire for justice. The war might be over, but my personal battle against the injustices I had faced was far from finished.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Exactly, I do not want to even think about how things would change. I can only hope they do not try to enforce anything new and bizarre on us that we are not comfortable with,” Mira said, her words echoing with my own worries. I let out a tired sigh, my frustration about the situation evident.

I had been harboring so much anger about the outcome of the war, hoping against hope that the witches would be successful. The thought of the werewolves imposing their will on us was infuriating, a reminder of their dominance.

“What happens now? When do the werewolves arrive?” My voice carried a hint of fear. The uncertainty of what was to come weighed heavily on my mind. Mira’s response held a mischievous tone, something characteristic of her adventurous spirit.

“I heard that they were already here, so it seems, though according to my source,” Mira’s words seemed to carry a glint of excitement, even as she tried to hide it. She was always one to jump into things headfirst, eager to explore the unknown.

“Do not smile silly,” I couldn’t help but comment, noticing the subtle curve of Mira’s lips.

“I was not,” Mira retorted, rolling her eyes playfully. Our laughter intertwined, momentarily lightening the heavy atmosphere around us.

“Alright, I’m heading to my room to take a quick warm shower then I’ll join you for dinner, cool?” Mira’s plan was set, and I nodded in agreement. As she headed to her room, I was left alone in the kitchen, continuing with my tasks.

But then, a knock on the door disrupted my routine. My heartbeat quickened at the unexpected sound. Who could it be at this hour? My steps were hesitant as I approached the door, my anxiety grew.

Swallowing hard, I reached out and opened the door. And there he stood, as if a ghost from my past had materialized before me. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips parted in disbelief.

“Lucian?” The word escaped my lips in a week, trembling voice. Disbelief and shock mingled in my expression. It was him standing there, his presence as surreal as a dream.

My mind raced, unable to process the sight before me. Memories, emotions, and questions flood my consciousness. How was this possible? After all this time, after the pain he had caused me, he was here? Standing right in front of me?

“Yes, it is me,” his voice, deeper than I remembered, confirmed his identity. His tone was devoid of warmth, his words a stark reminder of the distance between us.

Tremors ran through me, a mixture of emotions I couldn’t control. The anger and hurt that I had buried for so long came back, clashing with the shock of seeing him again. My body trembled involuntarily as my gaze remained locked on his face, a face that held memories of both love and betrayal.

In that moment, I was transported back to a time when I had believed in promises, in love, in a future that was shattered. My heart felt like it was caught in a bind, torn between the pain of the past and the intensity of the present.

Lucian’s unexpected return had shaken everything I had built over the years. I was left standing there, speechless and vulnerable, face to face with a chapter of my life I had desperately tried to forget.

He stood before me, a stark transformation from the person I once knew. The man who had haunted my dreams, who had walked away from me without a second glance, was now the picture of power and strength. It was as if the past three years had molded him into the perfect example of raw masculinity, leaving me utterly shocked.

His features were chiseled, his jaw clenched with an air of authority that seemed to rise from his very pores. The lines of his face held no flaws, as though each curve had been carefully crafted by the hands of a divine artist. His eyes, once filled with warmth that spoke of shared secrets and stolen moments, now held an icy stare that sent shivers down my spine.