The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 168: Did You Heal Me?

"Guards! Someone! Please!"

Esme’s voice rang out, trembling with desperation as she glanced around the dimly lit chamber. Panic surged through her veins, but the shadows offered no response at all—no guards, no help.

Her gaze fell to the boy crumpled on the floor, unconscious and utterly still. Swallowing her fear, Esme knelt beside him. She removed her shawl and carefully folded it, placing it beneath his head as an improvised cushion. It was all she could offer in the moment, though she had no real knowledge of how to care for someone in such a state.

Leaning closer, she positioned her ear near his mouth and nose, straining to detect even the faintest breath from him. His chest rose so slightly it was almost imperceptible, and his stillness was more unnerving than the silence lingering around the two of them.

Esme suddenly remembered how her father would normally rub his hand on her own to create warmth whenever she collapsed as a child. She had asked him once why he always does that, and he had said, ’when words fail, touch can sometimes restore what’s been lost.’

The meaning had eluded her back then, and it still did.

Drawing on that memory, Esme clasped his cold hand in hers and began to rub his palm with deliberate pressure. The motion was a mix of instinct and hope, and she was determined to ensure he woke up.

"Don’t die," she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t, regardless of whether she knew him or not. Her gaze landed on his face, and she recalled how calm he was a minute ago, which was so at odds with the panic that had overtaken him the instant she approached.

Her eyes flicked to the massive cage he had stumbled out of, its iron bars heavy with rust and misery. The sight unsettled her deeply, because cages were meant for beasts, not people. And this place— suffocating, damp and riddled with decay, was no place for anyone to survive.

"Wake up," she murmured, patting his cheek gently before shaking him with soft urgency. Her movements paused briefly as her fingers brushed against the blindfold obscuring his eyes. It felt wet, soaked from his tears, and the urge to remove it flickered in her mind. However, she hesitated and wisely kept her hands at her side.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the silence pressed heavily around her. But then, a sudden warmth bloomed beneath her palm, startling her. Esme inhaled sharply as a faint, bluish light flickered to life in her hand, and her eyes widened upon noticing her hair glowing in the same radiant blue color.

Her breath caught as the glow brightened, and, impossibly, a small flame ignited where her skin touched his. The fire didn’t burn, but instead, it pulsed with life, warm and soothing. The flame began to flow from her palm to his hand, creeping up his arm with a gentle persistence. It seeped into the cuts and bruises that marred his skin, spreading like liquid light. Before her eyes, his wounds began to close, the torn edges knitting together as though the fire were stitching him back into wholeness.

His body jerked every so slightly, a sharp gasp slicing through the oppressive silence. Esme stiffened the moment he slowly turned his head in her direction. Relief flooded her chest for a fleeting moment, but it quickly twisted into sharp-edged worry as she noticed the exhaustion carved deep within his features.

It seemed as though he might collapse again, and he wasn’t even fighting it. To Esme, it didn’t make sense, cause if it was her, she’d be struggling with all her might to stay awake... cause what if she never wakes up?

"Water..." Esme murmured to herself, her gaze darting around the dim space in search of water. Rising quickly, she crossed to the barrels lined against the corner of the space. Lifting one of the lids, it was filled with water, whilst Esme plunged her her hand into the cool liquid before returning to him in haste.

Dropping to her knees, she brought her cupped palm to his parched lips that were slightly parted, urging him to drink.

She repeated the gesture four more times, the water slipping through her fingers as she tried to offer him enough. When she was sure he’d taken all he could, she settled back on her knees beside him, her pulse still erratic from fear and urgency. If not luck, she wasn’t entirely sure what just happened. It was too complicated for her small mind to make sense of it, but if there was one thing she was sure of, it’s the fact that the light that came from her healed his wounds.

The boy’s breathing had steadied, faint but stable, and the danger of him passing out again seemed to ebb away.

For a while, they sat in silence, and then he finally spoke. "Who sent you here?" his voice was hoarse and fragile as he asked, but it lacked the frantic desperation it held before. Esme guessed it was probably due to his extremely weak state.

"I got lost," she responded. "No one sent me here. I couldn’t find my way out, and I didn’t mean to intrude."

"Lost?"

Esme took a step back as he shifted, sitting upright with a groan. His hands roamed over his arms and chest as though he felt something unusual, his expression shifting from groggy confusion to pure disbelief. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Esme watched as realization dawned on him. "My wounds," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re gone."

He froze for a moment, processing the impossibility of it. His body was weak and drained beyond measures, so healing was impossible since he didn’t have the energy for that. Slowly, his head snapped to Esme.

"Did... did you heal me?"

Esme hesitated in her response, and she maintained a careful distance, super wary, yet unwilling to abandon him. "You were in terrible shape," she explained softly. "I couldn’t just leave you like that. I know what it’s like to feel helpless... but are you alright?

She studied him intently as he went quiet. He seemed older than her, though it was hard to tell considering his condition. She wondered why he was locked away like a beast, but then the cage wasn’t even locked to begin with.

His transformation hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Those glinting fangs were no longer in sight, and his nails were no longer sharp or elongated. Whatever had plagued him before seemed to have receded,

"Thank you," he murmured suddenly, his tone carrying an unexpected sincerity. He turned his head away in guilt as he hesitated. "I... I’m sorry for yelling earlier. If the council did send you, it wouldn’t be to heal me—they’re not charitable to someone like me. So... how did you get lost only to end up here of all places?"

Esme blinked, recalling the councils words. "I was looking for my father, and ended up here. But can you walk? We can find the exit together and get out of here."

Esme was already rising to her feet when he shook his head slowly, his refusal throwing her off-guard. "As much as I want to leave, I can’t. But you should. If you head that way..." he pointed at a shadowy corner, "the guards that come here... I sense them from here most of the time before they close in. Unfortunately I can’t see, so you’ll have to check for yourself and confirm the route."

Esme followed the direction his finger was pointing, and to her surprise, a narrow passage revealed itself. She immediately returned to him with a spark of hope. "Yes, there’s a way."

"Then you should get going," he urged, gripping the wall as he pushed himself unsteadily upright. "If they find you here, I’ll pay the price. If anything, don’t tell them you’ve been down here... please."

His plea lingered in the air, and for some reason, Esme was tempted to shed tears on his behalf.

"But..." she looked at the path ahead before turning to him. Her gaze softened as she picked up her shawl and handed it to him. "Here, it’s big enough to shield you from the cold."

"No," he immediately rejected it. "I appreciate your help, but I don’t want to risk it. Forgive me, but you have to leave now."

Esme’s smile faded. Though he didn’t sound harsh anymore, she still felt bad leaving him to himself, and in such terrible condition. Even at his insistence, she pressed the shawl into his hands.

"Take care of yourself while I get help!" She said before sprinting in the direction he showed her. The boy, however, was bewildered when she handed him the shawl. The thick, soft material was a surprising comfort in his hands. Unable to resist, he draped it over his shoulders, pulling it tightly around his shivering frame. The warmth seeped into his skin, and it was more than enough reprieve.

The girl didn’t know who he was, of that, he was certain. If she had, she wouldn’t be so nice to him. Once she learns of what he did, of what people think... she’d never come back.

He adjusted the shawl, and his stomach grumbled from hunger.