Chapter 92: Messed Up

Words : 1166 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

Chapter 92 of "Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen" begins the action: Chapter 92: Messed Up Lethia packed her clothes into her bag. She returned to Lykon Haven... Discover the next part!

Chapter 92: Messed Up Lethia packed her clothes into her bag. She returned to Lykon Haven using the ambulance provided in case someone collapsed during the game. Honestly, she still had her heat medicine tucked in her pocket, but she couldn’t wait any longer—she needed to hear whatever bullshit Zeran had said explained properly. She grabbed a memo pad and scribbled a note for Chasey so the girl wouldn’t worry. Not long after, someone knocked on her door. Lethia opened it and found a sharply dressed man in a suit, glasses perched on his nose, smiling politely at her. "Miss Lethia, Mr. Tuffin asked me to pick you up. If you’re ready—" The man’s words trailed off as she opened the door wider, revealing her neatly packed bag. "Ah... you’re all set, I see. Let me carry your—" "There’s no need. Let’s just go already." Lethia didn’t let the overly polite man touch her bag. She gasped under her breath the moment she saw the latest model limousine waiting outside, its door opening automatically and unfolding into small steps to enter the tall vehicle. She could feel eyes on her, people watching, whispering. She quickened her pace. It felt excessive. She didn’t care what they thought; she just wanted to get it over with. But what awaited her inside was far more uncomfortable. Zeran sat with one leg crossed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, eyes glued to the tablet resting on his lap. He looked irritatingly casual yet maddeningly composed, seated on the long bench opposite a small table lined with snacks and fruit. Lethia dropped into the seat across from him, eyeing the black-haired man closely. She kept guessing how much he actually knew about her. But this man reeked of power. Best to assume he already knew everything—even the parts of her she hadn’t figured out yet. "Now, tell—" "Sleep." He cut her off without sparing her a glance, his voice flat and cold. Lethia’s temper nearly snapped. "Is it fun for you? Stomping on someone with less power, playing God with them?" Her breath came out ragged. Without lifting his eyes from the tablet, he asked, "So, you see me as a God?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Interesting." "You—" Lethia’s hand shot forward, reaching for the tablet in his grasp, but Zeran was faster. His fingers clamped around her wrist, yanked her forward, and pulled her into the seat beside him, trapping her in a twisted back hug, her wrist still locked tightly in his grip so she couldn’t move an inch. "What are you doing?" Lethia struggled, but it was pointless. "You’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Sleep first. We’ll talk later," he said, calm but unrelenting, refusing to release her wrist. She bit her lower lip, the sting of helplessness crawling under her skin. She hated it, but she knew she couldn’t win against this man. "Fine. Let me go. How am I supposed to sleep in this position?" Zeran let her go. Lethia immediately returned to her seat, keeping her distance. Seeing how stubborn he was, she decided just to shut her eyes, though she had no real intention of sleeping. In her mind, she tried calling out to Whisney, but her voice still didn’t come. Slowly, her eyelids grew heavier. Her body betrayed her will. The exhaustion finally won. The silence drew Zeran’s gaze from his tablet. He turned to her, and there she was, already asleep, lips parted slightly as if breathing through her mouth. His eyes dropped to her stomach. The pull—the sheer force of energy tugging at him—sent his pulse surging. He clenched his jaw. Yeah. He was certain now. The baby had started growling for him. Then he heard a soft vibration from inside Lethia’s handbag. He reached over, found her phone still buzzing nonstop. When he took it out, Renar’s name flashed on the screen. With a single swipe, he rejected the call. He wondered, was it the bond between him, Renar, and Caelum that allowed the two of them to catch the sweet scent of the baby’s pheromones, too? If that was true... Could it be that, because they were milk-siblings, they were also capable of sharing the same fated mate? Zeran let out a heavy sigh, cursed under his breath at the way fate seemed to be screwing them all over. *** Lethia stretched out, her body melting into the softness of the bed, lulled by how warm and plush it felt beneath her. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting, but as soon as her mind caught up, she jolted upright, because the last thing she remembered, she was still in Zeran’s limousine. What made her freeze next was the sight of what she was wearing: her clothes had been changed into a satin purple chemise with a matching robe that clung sinfully to her skin. She swung her feet off the bed and headed for the door. The moment she stepped outside, she found Zeran lounging on the sofa, her fists clenched, her expression tight with something simmering beneath. "Zeran Tuffin!" she snapped, making him turn sharply toward her. "Ah... you’re awake?" he said, far too casually as he placed his tablet on the table. "What the hell did you do with my clothes? And why didn’t you wake me up? Where the hell am I?" Her voice rose with every question, her brows pinched, eyes flashing with fury as if she was ready to rip into him right there. "Sit," Zeran commanded, cold and blunt. Lethia glared but obeyed, settling onto the couch across from him, yanking the robe tighter around her chest to cover the plunging neckline of her chemise. "Not there," he muttered and patted the empty space next to him. "No. We can talk just fine like this," she snapped back, though her body tensed like it secretly wanted to obey. What kind of spell was this man casting on her nerves? Zeran didn’t argue—he simply moved. He sat beside her, then, without warning, slipped an arm around her waist, tugged her close, and with a firm grip on her calves, shifted her easily until her thighs rested on his lap. His piercing blue eyes held hers, locking her in so tightly she forgot how to breathe. "Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered, her voice nearly swallowed by her racing heartbeat. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer until their faces hovered just inches apart. "You took the medicine well, I guess," he said, voice low and hot, sending something wicked spiraling through her belly. "Wh-why are you being like this?" she asked, panicked by how fast the heat inside her was rising. Her hands lazily moved as if to push him away, but the moment her palms touched the warmth of his skin, something inside her messed up the intention. "Didn’t your doctor tell you?" His smirk was slow, taunting. "Pheromone bonding. I’m doing you a favor."

Chapter 92: Messed Up

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