The Alpha's Forsaken Feisty Mate-Chapter 139: A den of indulgence

Zenna stepped out of the washroom, her gaze immediately falling on the table, now laden with an assortment of dishes. The aroma of the freshly prepared meal filled the room, making her stomach rumble slightly.

Radulf, already seated, gestured toward the empty chair beside him. "Come, have a seat. Let’s eat first. I’ll call Victor to join us," he said casually.

Zenna sat down but glanced at him with mild curiosity. "Why didn’t you let Savio accompany us? He’s your Beta," she asked.

Radulf leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "Savio needs to keep an eye on the pack," he explained. "I’m sure your father is already going crazy trying to figure out where we went. Other than Savio, no one can handle him."

Zenna sighed softly and nodded in understanding as she watched Radulf head out of the room. Once he disappeared, she turned her attention to the steaming dishes spread across the table.

She pulled out a chair and sat down, removing the lid from one of the bowls. The rich aroma of freshly made meat with soup filled the air, making her stomach tighten with hunger. Taking a ladle, she carefully filled three bowls, ensuring each had a generous portion.

Reaching for the basket of bread, she placed a few pieces on the plates, setting them neatly beside the bowls.

Radulf returned with Victor, who offered Zenna a polite greeting.

"There’s no need for such formality," Zenna replied with a small wave of her hand.

Victor chuckled before taking his seat beside Radulf.

"We should start before the food gets cold," she suggested, picking up her spoon.

The meal was warm and filling, shared in comfortable silence with only the occasional conversation. Once they finished, Victor stood up, brushing off his hands. "I’ll see you in the morning," he said before taking his leave.

Radulf, in turn, called for room service, and within minutes, the table was cleared.

Zenna, now full and content, lay down on the mattress, sinking into its soft comfort. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes.

"Change into something comfortable before bed," Radulf reminded her.

"Hmm," she murmured sleepily, her eyes remaining shut. She didn’t even realize when sleep finally pulled her under.

About ten minutes later, Radulf emerged from the washroom, his damp hair slightly tousled, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. His gaze immediately fell on Zenna, who was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady.

Shaking his head with a faint smile, he stepped closer and carefully removed her sandals. With gentle movements, he adjusted her position, making sure she lay comfortably on the bed. Pulling the duvet over her, he tucked it snugly around her form.

For a brief moment, he lingered, his eyes tracing her peaceful features. Then, lowering himself slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to the center of her forehead before straightening.

Silently, he crossed the room, heading toward the trunk. Opening it, he retrieved a neatly folded shirt and slipped it on. He tucked it into his trousers before pulling on his knee-length boots. Finally, he reached for his thick coat, shrugging it over his shoulders.

With one last glance at Zenna, Radulf switched off the lights and slipped out of the room. However, before stepping outside, he found Victor and gave him a firm look.

Satisfied that Zenna was safe under Victor’s watch, Radulf slipped into the night to find the best way to approach the witches.

The best place to gather information was always a bar. It was where loose lips spilled secrets, where alcohol loosened tongues, and where whispers carried the truth as well.

After asking a few locals, he found one that seemed promising and made his way inside.

The moment he stepped through the doors, he was met with a scene far beyond what he had expected.

The bar wasn’t just a place for drinking and dancing—it was a den of indulgence, where pleasure and desires intertwined seamlessly.

Dark lighting cast seductive shadows over figures entangled in intimate encounters, some on plush couches, others disappearing behind velvet curtains.

Radulf’s brows lifted slightly, though he masked his surprise with a neutral expression. This was not the kind of place he frequented, but if the right people were here, then so was the information he needed.

Steeling himself, Radulf moved further inside, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit bar for an empty spot near the counter. Finding one, he settled onto the stool, resting his forearms on the polished surface.

"A glass of whiskey, please," he told the bartender.

As he waited for his drink, he became acutely aware of two women moving closer to him.

"You seem new to this area," one of them finally spoke. She was on his left, leaning in slightly, her dark eyes studying him with curiosity.

Radulf barely spared her a glance, maintaining a composed expression. "I’m a merchant from the North," he replied smoothly.

Thankfully, his dominant Alpha scent was masked. The pills Savio had arranged for him were working perfectly, allowing him to blend in without drawing unwanted attention.

The woman exchanged a quick look with her companion before shifting even closer. "A merchant, huh?" she mused, her fingers trailing lazily along the rim of her own glass. "What exactly are you looking to trade?"

Radulf took his whiskey from the bartender, raising the glass to his lips as he considered his next words carefully. "I wish to keep this private."

The bartender handed him the glass of whiskey, and Radulf grabbed it. "If you are thinking that I may show interest in you, then you are wrong. Perhaps look for some other person," he pronounced without looking at them. He sipped the whiskey slowly while the two women left making faces.

"Did you hear that a kid entered the witches’ colony?"

Radulf suddenly heard voices coming from the other side on the same counter.

"No. What is it about?"

"The kid returned safely. The people thought they might kill him. Last time when a teenage boy entered their place, they killed him," the same person told his friend.

Radulf left his seat and walked to them. "Aren’t witches supposed to stay friendly with the werewolves here?" he asked.