A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate

Chapter 177: Chapter 177: Cotton Candy and Confessions

[Gale’s POV]

I tucked both stuffed toys securely under one arm—the ridiculous wolf and the even more ridiculous fairy—and balanced the cookbook on top of the pile, their soft bulk awkward but manageable. I can’t believe that mutt got pickpocketed, I thought, shaking my head. After all his talk about heightened senses and wolf instincts, he let his guard down at a festival. Pathetic.

I glanced at Ovelia. She was staring in the direction Ace had disappeared, her red eyes searching the crowd as if she could will him back into view—her bouquet of flowers dangling forgotten in her grip. The worry radiating from her through our bond was a faint, persistent ache.

I sighed inwardly. Wonderful. Now it looks like we’re the ones on a friendly date.

"Ovelia," I said, my voice deliberately flat.

She turned to look at me, her expression shifting from worried to questioning.

"Do you want cotton candy?" I nodded toward the stall beside us—a small cart with a gleaming copper machine, piles of colored sugar in glass jars, and a cloud of spun sugar scent wafting through the air.

Her gaze followed mine, landing on the fluffy confections displayed on sticks behind the glass. Her eyes widened slightly. "It looks like a colorful cloud."

"It is a cloud. A sweet one. Do you want it?" I kept my tone neutral, but I watched her carefully.

A small, hesitant smile touched her lips. "Yes, please. I’d like the pink one."

I turned to the merchant, an old man with sugar-dusted hands and kind eyes. "Old man, two cotton candies. One strawberry, one blueberry." I placed ten spina on his wooden counter.

"Right away, young man. Just wait a moment." He pocketed the coins with a nimble movement and set to work.

He moved with practiced ease, pouring pale pink sugar crystals into the spinning machine. The thin threads began to form, gathering against the sides in a growing cloud. He twirled a paper stick through the center, gathering the sugar strands until they formed a perfect, fluffy pink sphere. Then he repeated the process with blue sugar crystals. As a final touch, he lightly dusted both with fine milk powder, the white specks settling like snow on the colorful clouds.

"Here you go, enjoy!" he said, handing them across the counter with a smile.

I took the blue one.

Ovelia reached for the pink, her fingers brushing the paper stick. "Thank you," she said to the merchant, her voice warm.

I started walking, expecting her to follow. She did, but after a few paces, I heard her soft footsteps faltering behind me.

"Gale, you’re walking too fast," she called.

I stopped and looked back at her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the effort of keeping up. Right. Human legs. Not fairy speed. I sighed—a familiar, long-suffering sound—and slowed my pace.

"Walk faster," I said, then added, more quietly, "Here. Hold onto my tunic and don’t let go." I took a bite of my cotton candy—the sweetness exploded on my tongue, light and airy, dissolving instantly.

She nodded and stepped up beside me, her small hand gripping the fabric at my side. I adjusted my stride to match hers.

She took a tentative bite of her cotton candy. Her eyes widened. "Mmm," she hummed, the sound surprised and pleased. "It’s sweet, but a little sour too. It really tastes like strawberries. And I like the powdered milk on top." She smiled down at the pink cloud in her hand, genuine happiness softening her features.

I felt a small, satisfied warmth at her happiness. Good. She likes it.

We walked in companionable silence for a while. Her grip on my tunic remained steady. She didn’t speak, but her eyes roamed constantly—over food stalls, trinket vendors, groups of laughing festival-goers. Each time her gaze lingered on something, I waited for her to speak. She didn’t.

"Stop it," I said, the words coming out sharper than intended.

She looked up at me, confusion clouding her features.

"I’m not a mind reader," I said, holding her gaze. "If you see something you want, tell me. I’ll buy it for you."

Express your feelings more. I’m your familiar. I should be able to give you anything within my power. It’s my purpose, my duty. The thought was clear in my mind, but voicing it felt impossible—too raw, too revealing. The words lodged in my throat like stones. It was irritating that I couldn’t just say that.

[Ovelia’s POV]

His words—tell me, I’ll buy it for you—echoed in my mind, but they tangled with older, darker echoes.

The memory of Timberline Village flooded back, unbidden and cruel. Natasha’s voice, sharp as broken glass: "You want more? After everything we give you?" Alessia’s mocking laugh: "Look at the freak, actually thinking she deserves something nice." Lawrence’s cold, dismissive stare: "Wanting is for people who contribute. Stop being greedy. Be grateful we feed you at all. You’re just a burden we tolerate."

My fingers tightened on Gale’s tunic, the fabric bunching under my grip.

"Is it really okay for me..." I began, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the cobblestones passing beneath my feet. "Is it really okay for me to choose what I want? Am I not taking it for granted? Being selfish?" The words tumbled out, small and hesitant.

"What kind of question is that?" His voice was sharp, but not with anger. With confusion.

I forced the words out, each one scraping against the scars they left behind. "Am I really allowed to express more of my feelings? To say what I like and what I don’t? Won’t you all get angry? Irritated? Think I’m strange or... or too much?"

The faces flashed through my mind. Lawrence’s cold, disapproving glare. Natasha’s curled lip. Alessia’s fake angelic smile. The memories were scars—healed over, but never truly gone. I could still feel the phantom sting of a slap, the ache of a shove, the hollow emptiness of being told my feelings were inconveniences.

I had endured the beatings without crying. I had learned to swallow the pain, to lock it away in a box deep inside me just to survive. But the sadness... the sadness when those memories surfaced... that was harder to contain. It pressed against my eyes, hot and insistent.

Tears began to form.

[Gale’s POV]

Through the bond, a wave of sadness crashed into me—raw, old, and deeply buried—so intense it nearly stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t my own. It wasn’t her present emotion; it was a memory of pain, dragged to the surface.

"Don’t hold back," I said, the words coming out angrier than I intended. "Just cry if you need to."

She finally looked up at me, her red eyes glistening. "Gale, I’m sorry... I—" freeωebnovēl.c૦m

I reached down and grabbed her hand—the one clutching my tunic. My grip was firm, not painful. The ugly wolf stuffed toy tumbled from under my arm and landed on the ground, forgotten. I didn’t care.

"Listen to me," I said, my voice low and intense. "I’m your familiar. It’s my purpose—my job—to give you whatever I can. To support you. To protect you." I squeezed her hand, willing her to understand. "Express your feelings more. Show them to me, to Ann, to Ace, to Ray. We want to know you—all of you. The happy parts and the sad parts and the angry parts. Every part. Don’t waste your energy worrying about what strangers might think." I was practically shaking her hand now, my own emotions—frustration, protectiveness, a fierce, unfamiliar tenderness—spilling out unchecked. "Especially since they have nothing to do with your life anyway. Do you understand what I’m saying?!"

She stared at me, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. But beneath the tears, something else flickered in her red eyes. Something that looked like... relief.

"Probably..." she whispered, then quickly wiped her cheeks with her free hand, a small, watery smile tugging at her lips.

I released her hand abruptly, suddenly aware of how tightly I’d been holding it. My face felt hot. I bent and snatched the fallen ugly wolf stuffed toy from the ground, brushing dust from its fur with aggressive, jerky movements.

Damn it. I finally said it. The words I’d been choking on. The truth I hadn’t wanted to admit even to myself.

I cared about this ridiculous, broken, beautiful human. And apparently, I was going to keep caring whether I liked it or not.