A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 164: The Claim and the Clarity

[Ace’s POV]

The roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum. The smug owner, the scattered cups, the weight of the wager, the frustrated cries of the losers—it all dissolved. My world tunneled to the woman in my arms, to the vibration of her laughter against my chest, to the radiant, unguarded happiness on her face as she leaned back to look at me. The sweet, clean scent of her hair filled my senses. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The sight, the feeling, was a trigger.

A deep, possessive hunger, not entirely my own, surged from Fenrir. It was raw, primal, and overwhelmingly focused. My gaze dropped to her lips, slightly parted from her laughter, soft and inviting. My hand, which had been resting on her back, moved almost of its own volition. I gently grasped her chin, tilting her face up towards mine. Her laughter faded into a soft, surprised gasp. Her red eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. In the warm lantern light, her cheeks were flushed the perfect, delicate pink of a wild rose.

The urge to close the distance, to claim that laughter with my own mouth, to taste her joy and turn it into something hotter, more private, was a physical ache. I wanted to touch her, to unravel the careful composure she usually wore, to hear her gasp and moan my name right here, in front of everyone.

"A...?" she whispered, her smile faltering into confusion. A beautiful, rosy blush spread from her cheeks down her neck.

What am I doing?

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. We were in the middle of a festival square, surrounded by hundreds of people, with my brother, her attendant, and a cursed fairy watching. This was not the time, not the place. My control, which I prided myself on, had almost splintered.

I released her chin as if burned. Then, driven by a surge of self-directed fury for the lapse, I raised my own hand and slapped my own cheek. The sharp sting was a welcome, focusing pain.

"A?!" Ovelia’s happiness vanished, replaced by pure, uncomprehending shock. She took a step back, her arms falling to her sides.

The crowd’s murmur died down for a moment. Even Filafelia paused in her money-counting to glance over. Ann and Ray merely looked on. Ann’s lips quirked into a tiny, knowing smile. Ray’s expression was one of bland understanding, as if he’d just watched me avoid stepping in a puddle. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"What a pervert," I heard Gale mutter, his voice dripping with contemptuous amusement.

Damn you, Fenrir. Damn these instincts. I shoved the wolf back, deep down, locking it away with sheer force of will. I turned my heated face toward the stall owner, who was now numbly holding the large silver stuffed toy.

"Here. You won," he said, his voice bitter. But to his credit, he handed the toy over gently, with a sort of resigned respect for the sheer skill displayed.

I took it. The stuff toy was well-made, soft, and surprisingly heavy.

"Congratulations," the attendant, Dane, said. He offered a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "That was... impressively efficient."

"Thanks," I replied, my voice coming out slightly hoarse.

"YOU FOUR OVER THERE!" Filafelia yelled, pointing. "ANN, MR. MYSTERY, MRS. RED EYES, AND MR. ORANGE EYES! Get your bets back over here so I can finish counting the total pot and distribute the winnings fairly!"

Ann quickly moved, taking Ovelia’s still-confused hand and guiding her toward the barrel. Gale and Ray followed, Gale grumbling about the nicknames, Ray throwing me one last look that clearly said, "Get yourself under control."

I watched them go, then turned back to the stall owner, who was now sullenly wiping down his remaining wooden balls with a cloth. "Want to try another round, old man?" I asked, my voice deliberately light, a return to the earlier provocation.

"No!" he snapped, not looking up. "This stall is closed for the night!" Behind him, however, I saw Dane already beginning to gather the scattered cups, starting to stack them again with quiet efficiency.

I sighed, the last of the tension leaving my shoulders. "A loss is a loss. Accept it with some grace," I said.

The owner finally looked up, his expression weary. He sighed deeply himself but said nothing, returning to his wiping.

My group returned, having finished retrieving their original bet. Ovelia carried her fairy stuffed toy, now tucked under her arm.

"Lia, here." I held out the large silver wolf stuffed toy.

Her face lit up again, the shock from moments ago forgotten in new delight. "Really? Oh, it’s so handsome! It looks like you!" she said, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "When you’re in your wolf form, I mean. The silver fur and the proud look."

I glanced at Gale. "Gale, you can carry your own stuffed toy from now on."

"Huh?! Why should I? It’s hers! Carry your own oversized mutt!" Gale shot back, scowling.

Ovelia reached out and took the wolf from my hands before the bickering could continue. "I can carry them both, you know," she said determinedly, trying to hug both large plushes. They were comically big against her small frame, threatening to topple her over. She beamed up at me, slightly muffled by silver fur. "Thank you, Ace!"

The simple, happy gratitude eased the last knot of my frustration. I just smiled and gave her head a gentle pat.

"WOW! THE REMAINING POT IS 194 THOUSAND SPINA!" Filafelia announced, her voice ringing with professional glee. "SOME RICH GAMBLERS IN THIS VILLAGE!"

A fresh cheer went up from the winning bettors.

Filafelia began the meticulous process of distribution, counting out coins with swift, sure fingers. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, pockets heavier, conversations buzzing with the night’s excitement.

"YOU FIVE! QUIT LOLLYGAGGING AND GET OVER HERE! I CAN’T CARRY ALL THIS MYSELF, YOU KNOW!" Filafelia yelled, gesturing at the substantial pile of coin pouches still on the barrel head.

I looked one last time at the stall owner, who was now pulling a canvas sheet over his booth. "Stay in business, old man," I called out. "Maybe I’ll come by next year and win again."

"You do that," he grumbled from under the canvas. "I’ll make sure the tables are bolted to the ground. No one’s using that trick again."

"You’re teasing him again," Ray commented as he rejoined me.

"I’m not," I said, entirely serious. "I fully intend to win again."

"SO SLOW!" Filafelia’s exasperated cry ended the discussion.

I reached out and settled my hand firmly on Ovelia’s waist, drawing her close to my side. The contact was stabilizing, a reminder of what was real and what was mine to protect. "Stay close to me," I said, my voice low.

She nodded, adjusting her grip on the two stuffed toys, and together we walked toward the small, commanding figure of the witch apprentice and the fortune she guarded.