The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 116: Believe In Yourself First

"We’ll have to make do with the several wagons for now. Cover everything with a tarp," Revana commanded, her sharp eyes surveying the warriors as she issued her orders, hence, the warriors moved swiftly, hauling heavy tarps over the wagons and concealing their contents in moments.

It was already noon, and the sun cast a muted glow over the scene. Each member of the group was meticulously clad in dark assassin’s garb, their outfits crafted from the finest western leathers. Tension hung in the air as every warrior methodically armed themselves.

Althea and Acheron had chosen their crossbows, each weapon accompanied by a pouch of smoke bombs and vial of poison, personally concocted by Esme and Neville. Meanwhile, Revana and Lothar selected their usual weapons of choice — gleaming silver blades that were honed to perfection, and enchanted tools, each securely strapped to their bodies.

The warriors weren’t left out either, as they too armed themselves eagerly. It had been too long since they ventured beyond the barrier, and anticipation ran high amongst them. They were all ready to stand beside their Alpha, united in their mission to strike down even a small portion of Illyria.

Esme stepped out through the back door of the Shadowspire, dressed in a sleek two-piece assassin outfit like everyone else. She wore a black leather cloak that fell just below her hips, with a high collar and snug sleeves for protection.

Beneath the cloak, a close-fitting tunic provided more warmth, and her pants were black and made from durable material. Her twin daggers were strapped securely to her thighs, their hilts within easy reach, whilst fingerless gloves added a practical edge to her ensemble. The hood of her cloak rested against her back, and its fur trim brushed her shoulder.

The moment she stepped into view, a wave of attention rippled through the male warriors who were only laying eyes on her for the first time. Their interested gazes lingered on her until a sharp snap of fingers ruined the moment, diverting their attention. An unusually calm-faced female warrior glared at them.

"You want your eyes gouged out of their sockets? That’s the Alpha’s woman!"

Hearing this, the men immediately strengthened, their expression shifting to ones of respect, tinged with fear. As Esme passed by with a smile on her lips, she kindly acknowledged the warriors before continuing on her way.

"Does she have a sister? A relative?" The male warriors asked as their gazes followed her figure, and the sane ones amongst them quickly returned to their tasks before Lothar, or even worse, Revana, came for their necks.

Esme marveled at the flurry of activity around her. Even Finnian and his friends were eagerly preparing for what lay ahead, with Kangee perched on Finnian’s shoulder, muttering something that, for once, didn’t resemble a curse.

Her gaze then shifted to Donovan, who wore an assassin garb much similar to hers, yet he carried an unmistakable air of authority that only made him look more attractive in her eyes. The dark fabric clung to his broad frame, outlining the powerful muscles beneath. The black material of his cloak was longer and heavier than everyone else’s, whilst the silver runes embroidered into the cuffs caught the fading light.

His weapon, which was known as the — star blades — were crafted from rare Illyrian steel, dark and deadly, but hard to acquire, yet he had them secured in his belt. He fixed his fingerless gloves into place, and he was standing beside a towering warhorse.

He was effortlessly breathtaking, and each time she looked at him, those haunting memories clouded her mind.

As she approached, Donovan halted in his adjustments, his senses sharpening as he felt a presence close by. However, the tension in his stance faded when the familiar sweetness of Esme’s fragrance reached him, a calming balm to his otherwise guarded demeanor.

She stepped closer, her fingers gently brushing against the fabric of his high collar as she adjusted it, her touch light and gentle. A soft gasp escaped her lips when his hand found her waist, effortlessly drawing her against him in front of others, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both inevitable and dangerous.

Esme’s face was flushed red as she looked around, with everyone darting their gazes to anything but them. She faced the man who had acted shamelessly in the presence of everyone, gently slapping his chest.

"What are you doing?" she breathed, wanting to sound as serious as she could, but her voice failed her. They came out meek and weak, which wasn’t her intention at all.

Donoan simply tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips, "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You know I can’t resist when you’re near. My hands tend to have a mind of its own when it comes to you." His voice was a low rumble, teasing, yet heavy with the undercurrent of longing. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did," Esme responded. This time, she made sure she took off the pendant before sleeping, so she wouldn’t have to see more awful things her stomach would hate to digest.

"There, I fixed your collar. Can you let go of me now?"

"Why, are you shy?" His voice was a low, sultry murmur, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. Her face heated up naturally, and her heart raced as his sudden nearness sent a ripple of warmth through her. "Worried about what others might think?" he teased, his lips grazing the curve of her ear. "I wouldn’t mind if they saw, you are my woman now, after all, with or without a mating mark. Or have you forgotten?"

His hand slid to her lower back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake, and Esme’s breath hitched. As expected, she could feel the irresistible pull of him, the magnetic lure that always threatened to draw her in too deep.

It was her mistake, approaching him, despite knowing fully well the danger of his touch. Gathering her sanity, she eventually freed herself from his clutches, and she looked around instinctively to ensure everyone was still busying around, or at least pretending to be.

"You still haven’t explained to me why you chose to buy me that petal sword that’s not a sword," Esme said, switching topic, her voice steady yet probing as she faced him, keeping a good distance between them this time around. "You mentioned it was fitting, but why?"

"Why?" He took a step forward, "Isn’t it obvious? I chose that weapon for you because, like you, it feels fragile to the touch, harmless, innocent, quite delicate on the surface. But beneath that façade lies a hidden power that’s waiting to be unleashed. It’s like a thin veneer that conceals the true power within them, a power that has yet to unravel, could be something formidable, deadly even. It’s like the saying goes, true strength often lies beneath the surface, disguised as vulnerability."

His hands gently grasped her shoulders, his warm grip radiating reassurance. "I hope that when you finally tap into the true potential of your weapon, you’ll see yourself in the same light. You possess a latent power within you, Esme, and I have faith in your strength. But my belief can only go so far if you don’t trust in yourself."

Pulling her close, he carefully lifted her effortlessly before settling her against the powerful flank of the warhorse. His actions took her by surprise, since she was so engrossed in what he was saying. "I thought this was yours?"

"It’s actually yours," he admitted. "I was merely waiting for you. Make sure to give the things I said some thought." His words sent a fiery thrill racing through her, and butterflies fluttered relentlessly in her belly. He eventually walked off after offering her a deceptively innocent smile, and just like that, the tone of his voice had changed into commandment.

"Our stop is the foothills of the Northern range," he announced as he mounted his own warhorse, the sturdy beast shifting beneath him. "If we’re fast enough, we should arrive before dawn. I can’t promise there won’t be demon beasts on the way. But do not get swayed, be alert at all times, and don’t hesitate to take out a demon when you see one."

The herd responded uniformly. Leonardo nudged his mount forward, ensuring that the three boys fell into a protective formation around Esme.

"Where’s Neville?" Esme glanced around as their horse’s began to stride forward, but Neville was nowhere to be found. She turned to Althea and whispered gently. "Is Neville not coming?"

Meanwhile, Neville had succumbed to sleep in the parlor, finally getting the rest he so richly deserved.