The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 184: Unknown Sacrifice

Lennox arrived just in time to observe the path Donovan had taken, his expression hardening with resolve. Without waiting for anyone’s input, he made a decisive choice to handle the matter himself.

Lady Arabella, standing nearby, froze as Lennox began to shift before her. His body contorted and expanded, bones cracking audibly as he transformed into a towering Lycan. A deep, guttural growl escaped him, and his golden eyes burned with fierce determination.

Without hesitation, he bolted in the direction Donovan had taken, his strides powerful and predatory. If Donovan thought he could escape, Lennox was more than ready to prove otherwise. A Lycan’s heightened senses were far superior to those of ordinary wolves, and it would track Donovan down, no matter how well he hid.

Arabella quickly regained her composure and turned toward the guards, who stood motionless, carrying a stunned expression at the sight of Lennox’s transformation.

Her voice cut through their shock like a whip. "Are you just going to stand there, gawking at your future King like statues? Follow him! Ensure no harm comes to him or my niece. Move—Now."

Her sharp command jolted the guards into action, and with renewed purpose, they scrambled to obey, darting after Lennox as the echo of his growls faded into the distance.

Meanwhile, Donovan had carried Esme to the highest balcony of the palace, where the air felt colder and heavier, as if it shared her unease.

With a gentleness that belied the tension radiating from him, he set her down to her feet. Esme instinctively stepped back when she had the chance, retreating several paces as her wide eyes roamed over him.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and each beat was loud enough to drown her own thoughts. The sight of him was almost unrecognizable.

His bloodied claws caught her attention first, sharp and stained with evidence of violence. Her gaze lowered to her dress, which was smeared with streaks of crimson that weren’t hers.

However, it was his body that unsettled her the most. His skin, which was once marred with only a few dark runes on his neck, had now covered him in sinister patterns that snaked across him like living curses. His eyes were hollow and brimming with a haunting intensity that seemed to pierce through her.

When he took a step towards her, she instinctively retreated again, her back nearly brushing against the railing. Fear, raw and consuming, tightened its grip on her. Donovan had always been an enigma, but this was something else entirely. He looked less like the friend she once knew, and more like the nightmares her people whispered about.

"What... happened to you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with uncertainty. "I didn’t do anything this time," she quickly added, her words spilling out in a desperate rush.

"I stayed away, just like you wanted."

"Esme," Donovan said her name, his voice laced with exhaustion and something far more complicated. He had hoped the sound of it might soothe her, but instead, it seemed to deepen her fears. She was scared of him, and it hit him harder than he cared to admit.

He wasn’t oblivious to the changes that might have occured. He could feel the curse overtaking him, warping him into something monstrous. Still, hearing her fragile attempt to convince him of her innocence– that she had done nothing to anger him or cause this— tugged at something fragile within him.

He had chased her away for her own good, convinced it was the right thing to do. But now, all he could think about was how to rectify that.

"What are you doing?"

The voice in his mind echoed sharply, freezing Donovan in place before he could speak a word to Esme.

"The enemy is right in front of you! Take this chance and end her now. Avenge your pack and show the world who the true born leader of Illyria is. Stop holding back!"

The insidious words coiled around Donovan’s thoughts like a vice, urging him to act. He clenched his fist, shaking his head to dispel the voice, but the effort was futile. Suddenly, a searing pain erupted within him, coursing through his body like fire. It was so intense to the point where steam began to escape his body, rising in ghostly wisp as if his very essence was burning away.

"Let me handle it!"

The voice snarled, louder and more insistent this time around, but Donovan’s stubbornness wouldn’t let him give in.

"No! This is my body!" he roared in defiance, fighting with himself. "This isn’t what we agreed on. Stop!"

But his body betrayed him, hence, he realized the mistake he had made. The curse clawed its way through his defenses, and he felt his control slipping, his limbs trembling as if they no longer belonged to him. Before he could succumb entirely to its devious intent, a sudden, different kind of warmth anchored him.

His teary eyes shifted to one of surprise when he immediately felt Esme’s presence, her hand firm on his shoulder. Her touch was steady and grounding, hence, it sent a surge of clarity through him, like a lifeline against the chaos threatening to drown him.

"What are you doing?" Donovan growled at her, a mixture of warning and vulnerability etched in his voice. He hated how much her presence steadied him, hated how it weakened the walls he had so carefully built. Yet, it was that same warmth that kept him from losing himself completely.

"If you turn, you’ll not make it," Esme said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She could feel the chaotic energy radiating through him, more wild and untamed than anything she had ever sensed before.

Not even when she mended his wounds.

Her heart ached at the sight of him, because he was someone who had fought hard against the weight of his own demons, only to crumble under their force.

"You don’t understand," Donovan rasped, his eyes flickering between their usual dark intensity and a glowing feral light. "It’s too strong... it’s already... inside me."

Esme’s breath hitched when she unexpectedly caught a glimpse of something–or someone– lurking in his gaze. It was fleeting, but enough to send a chill down her spine. This was her first time coming in contact with the things her father had fought to get rid of all his life, but looking at Donovan, and sensing he was being controlled by that same thing, she couldn’t resist the urge to help, her fear overshadowed by something she couldn’t quite put her finger into.

"I can help you."

"No," he shook his head, his voice barely audible to Esme’s ears. "You just woke up from a long coma, you’ll only get hurt again. I need to–"

"I’m not afraid of your curse," Esme interrupted, crouching down and clasping his hand in hers. "My father made sure of that. What I’m afraid of right now is losing my friend. Let me help, just this once. You are in this state because of me. You did it to save me, but you mustn’t let it destroy you like it did with the others."

"She’s lying!!" the same figure with the clawed nails loomed behind Donovan, and it whispered into his ears. "She’ll betray you eventually, just like they all did."

Donovan clutched his head, the pain intensifying. "Step back for a minute!" He begged, his claws digging into the stone floor as he fought for control.

But Esme did not move. Instead, she placed her other hand over his heart. A faint, bluish glow emanated from her palm, warm and soothing, and it spread through Donovan like sunlight breaking through a storm. The curse twisted and recoiled as if scalded by the purity of her touch. The sinister presence latched onto him shrieked in defiance, but the glow only intensified.

The light surged brighter, spilling into Donovan with an unyielding force. It wasn’t the wild, devouring energy of the curse, but it was something entirely different. It was steady and pure, a quiet strength that dissolved the chaos, unraveling the darkness like a knot undone. He could feel her essence, calm and unwavering, pouring into him and replacing his torment with an unshakable serenity.

"Wait... you’ll lose your power if you keep going. Don’t do this for me." Donovan murmured, even as he felt the curse weakening.

"There is one thing Montagues never fail to do," Esme opened her eyes. "We never fail to deliver."

The curse howled in defiance, its fury palpable. The intricate pattern Donovan had etched onto Esme’s wrist pulsed with light, and it mirrored the glow on his own wrist. The runes which had taken over Donovan’s body finally dimmed, and he felt the curse retreating like a wounded beast. However, it did not go quietly. It seemed to wrench something not just from Donovan, but from Esme as well.

Esme’s radiant glow began to dim, her strength ebbing away with it. She swayed slightly, exhaustion washing over her as she collapsed. Donovan sensed her body go limp in his arms, but before he could react, a low, guttural growl belonging to a Lycan tore through the air.

The last thing Donovan felt before he collapsed was the weight of Esme against him. They had both given up something without knowing it.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.