Chapter 67: My Man

Words : 1045 Updated : Sep 19th, 2025

Discover the story in "Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen" Chapter 67: Chapter 67: My Man A woman with straight, jet-black hair falling neatly to her shoulders stood... Continue exploring!

Chapter 67: My Man A woman with straight, jet-black hair falling neatly to her shoulders stood gazing in awe at Lethia and Renar’s table—no, she was looking straight at Renar. She wore a ruffled-collar blouse tucked into satin dress pants and a fitted blazer, the kind of outfit that instantly screamed high intellect and heavy influence. But what made Lethia blink and stare longer was the woman’s eyes. They were sharp, seductive, and their golden-amber hue gleamed like a hawk’s, fierce and hypnotic. The way she moved, her long legs accentuated by the flow of her pants, made it clear she was slightly taller than Lethia. And that dazzling, soft smile tugging at her lips could snatch anyone’s attention without even trying. Everything about her presence screamed, "I know I’m irresistible, and you don’t even deserve to breathe near me." A look Lethia had seen plenty in Lykon Haven, but this woman made it something else—because the way her gaze sliced through the air sent an involuntary shiver down the spine of anyone caught in it. ["Whohooo... she’s one of those rare she-wolves. She’s got that ’fuck me harder, I dare you’ bitch energy."] Whisney suddenly chirped inside Lethia’s head, making her frown. ’What kind of nonsense are you telling now?’ ["Those vexing hawk eyes... only a rare Alpha she-wolves have that. Sometimes they even dominate Alpha males."] ’How would you know that?’ There was a beat of silence from Whisney as the woman closed the distance to their table. ["I... I used to kill one of those pesky bitches centuries ago."] Whisney’s voice faded into a ghostly murmur in Lethia’s ears, too weak to pull her attention away from what she saw—Renar’s jaw clenched so tight it looked like he was gritting his teeth just to swallow his ragged breath. She didn’t need to ask; his entire body screamed he was this close to flipping the table in front of them. ’Could it be... she...’ "Long time no see. I never expected to bump into you like this... and with..." her gaze flicked briefly toward Lethia, "...a woman." "Hm. It’s not exactly a casual place to begin with," Renar shot back, his cold tone making Lethia glance between the two of them, a little stunned at how they could stare at each other yet seem like they were slicing one another apart with invisible blades. Without waiting for an invitation, the woman dragged a chair beside Renar and sat down. "It’s nice to meet you like this. You know I’m hosting a Gala next week, don’t you? You shouldn’t miss it, since you’re running for parliament this election." "I know that," Renar muttered, clearly not interested in dragging this conversation any longer than necessary, refusing even to look at her. But just like Whisney had said, the woman didn’t flinch—still wore that unnervingly serene face, as soft and crisp as the napkin Lethia was currently wringing in her hands after wiping her mouth. "I’ll send you a message later, listing which VIPs are attending. They might be useful to you. Why haven’t you replied to my messages?" "I guess because the messages weren’t important enough to deserve a reply." Lethia took a sip of her water, her gaze never straying far from them, sharp and wary. She didn’t give a damn what history they shared—what caught her attention was the sheer push and pull between them, a dance of sharp tension that was too intense to ignore. The woman chuckled and finally spared a glance at Lethia, flashing her a sweet smile. But just as quickly, she dismissed her, turning her full attention back to Renar—as if Lethia didn’t even exist. It made Lethia’s blood boil, feeling flat-out ignored. "Are you still angry with me?" the woman asked, her cliché line making Lethia smirk, like she was watching some trashy drama on TV. ["See, this bitch is bitching right now."] Whisney’s snark filled her head, and suddenly Lethia felt her whole body heat up, her blood rushing so fast it made her heart hammer against her ribs. And then— "Honey, I’m done eating. Should we go now?" Lethia stood up from her seat, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness that left both Renar and the woman frozen on the spot. ’Ho–hon WHAT?!’ Lethia screamed inside as that damn fox Whisney hijacked her body. "Come on, dear, I’m already tired. You know my doctor told me not to overexert myself... the baby’s still fragile," Lethia cooed, stepping closer to Renar’s chair and gently tugging at his hand. The woman’s face stiffened, her gaze sharpening into a look of irritation as she snapped toward Lethia. "Baby? Who are—" "I’m his woman. And you are...? Ah, never mind. You’re not important anyway, just like my man said." Lethia said it with the kind of confidence that could level a city, clutching onto Renar’s hand as he finally chuckled under his breath, thoroughly entertained by her antics. ’HIS WHAT?! My man?! Oh bitch fox, you’ve gone too far this time!’ Lethia screeched inside. The woman didn’t say anything—just forced a bitter smile, her gaze slicing through Lethia as if trying to figure out who she was and what her connection to Renar really meant. Without a word, Renar twisted his wrist, locking his fingers through Lethia’s, and with one firm pull, led her away from the table. "Are you leaving me, Renar?" the woman asked bitterly. "Of course we are. Someone uninvited crashed our table and ruined the mood. Honey, let’s go," Lethia snapped with a bite of sarcasm. "If my woman says so," Renar said, deliberately raising his voice so the woman could hear him loud and clear. Without sparing her another glance, the two of them left, though Lethia could still feel the woman’s sharp gaze stabbing into their backs beneath that unnervingly calm demeanor, like the quiet just before a violent storm. Her mind snapped back into place once she slipped into Renar’s car and sank into the seat. She could feel it—the control over her body finally returning. ’Fox... you—’ ["Don’t protest too much! We just killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of Renar’s temper over that camping idea and that bitchy she-wolf. Be grateful!"]

Chapter 67: My Man

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