The Luna's Harem

Chapter 25: Mate?

"Mark me."

Lynsandra’s grip on the person’s chest tightened as she tried to keep her focus on him. However, she couldn’t see anything, only a blur of his figure. Though her mind was foggy, she was aware of the reckless words that had slipped past her lips.

But right now, she didn’t have the strength to take them back or scold herself.

All she wanted, from the very bottom of her soul, was to be rid of this pain. So even if it was reckless, even if this wasn’t what she truly wanted, and even if this was the last thing she would ever want... this felt like the only way.

Talk about being fickle—sending everyone away to avoid this very situation, yet deep down, wanting someone to come and rescue her.

And yet, even after a minute had passed, he didn’t move.

His eyes remained on her before the back of his hand gently caressed her cheek. She intuitively leaned her cheek to his hand, eyes closed, the lines on her face deepening.

Lynsandra looked at him as if he were the only one in the world, something he had long desired. Under different circumstances, he would have answered, "Gladly," in a heartbeat. But even when his heart urged him to look the other way and pretend this was what she wanted and needed, he couldn’t.

His thumb brushed over her lip, enough to make her tremble and moan.

She wanted him, her eyes screaming with desire.

Take me, knot me, mark me, claim me... Those were the words only her eyes could desperately scream.

If he were being honest, the desire was mutual.

He wanted her more than she would ever know, but...

The man leaned over, one arm securing around her. He pulled the silk robe he had picked up by the river over her battered, exposed body. Then he moved his face closer to her ear, his hot breath—laden with a lifetime of restraint—brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered to her.

Lynsandra, drifting in and out of her haze, still caught the words, though faint and unclear.

"Huh?" she blinked weakly as she watched him pull back. Her lips quivered as the last of her strength slipped from her hands.

She felt his hand move to the back of her nape, where her cursed mark lay. His touch somehow eased the pain and heat coursing through her.

Then, very slowly, he leaned down again until his breath brushed her upper lip and the tip of his nose touched hers.

His thumb pressed beneath her chin, parting her lips before his mouth closed the distance. Lynsandra drew a sharp breath as her brows knit together, feeling the firm claim of his lips on hers. She clutched his chest tighter, deepening the kiss as her body trembled, craving more.

However, before she could regain her strength from the relief flooding her senses, she felt pressure at her neck, and everything went black.

As for the man, he lingered against her lips until she stopped moving. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes softening as he gazed at her unconscious face inches from his own. A helpless breath slipped past his lips before he picked her up in his arms.

He secured her robe around her body and carried her away. But before he left the chapel, his steps halted as he glanced back at the statue bathed in mesmerizing moonlight.

*****

The next day...

"Mark me."

Lynsandra jolted awake, stirred by the hazy memories of the night before. Still in bed, she checked her body for any sign of what had happened. Though she had drifted in and out of consciousness, she remembered someone coming to her.

And she remembered asking—no, begging—him to mark her.

"He didn’t," she whispered to herself, looking at her hands, then her shoulders. "He didn’t mark me."

Curious, she yanked the blanket off her legs, only to see that her wounds had healed. No, her entire body had healed overnight. And judging by it, she had been cleaned and clothed as well. freewebnovel.cσ๓

Usually, after enduring the full moon’s torment, Lynsandra would wake where she had passed out. Werewolves’ regenerative abilities were strong. That was the reason she survived the early waves of the curse.

However, with every full moon, Lynsandra’s regeneration slowed. That was why the pain lingered, why her wounds took longer to close. One of the consequences of her stubbornness. It was the very reason Enlly had been worried because they both knew that if this continued, she might lose her regenerative ability altogether. Then, her life.

"But somehow..." she trailed off, touching her lips as she recalled the sensation of the kiss. "Enlly... who was he?"

And when she needed her wolf the most, Enlly remained silent.

"Are you there?" she asked, closing her eyes to search for her wolf. She could feel her presence, but also that Enlly was recovering.

"What did he do?" she wondered, staring at her arm as if it belonged to someone else.

Lynsandra flexed her fingers, moved her arms.

"Hmm?" Her brows furrowed as she threw her legs over the bed. She jumped once—then again—each jump growing higher.

When she stopped, shock spread across her face. "I’m not... I’m not in pain."

Since the first time she had experienced the curse, Lynsandra had never been free of pain. Even after the worst passed, her body always ached, her head heavy, pressure ever-present. She had grown so used to it that she had forgotten what it felt like to live without it.

Now, her body felt light. Her muscles, usually tight, were relaxed.

Slowly, her lips curved into a small smile. Brief, but the most genuine she could manage. Yet the relief was short-lived as the question resurfaced.

"Who was he?" she murmured, brows knitting as she looked toward the door. "Who...?"

Who was the one responsible for this?

The one who could have marked her and claimed her, but didn’t?

Lynsandra pressed a hand to her chest, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside her. And before she knew it, a whisper slipped past her lips.

"...mate...?"