The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 153: Kill Them All

Donovan had never truly seen the written alphabet, but he had learned to understand the shapes of the letters through tactile means and guided practice.

Kangee always assisted him by interpreting the shapes for him whenever confusion arose. At the moment, however, Donovan had little patience to contemplate how he had gained his vision.

Although he couldn’t read the letters in the conventional way, he was able to trace the familiar outlines and patterns with his mind, forming a connection to Esme.

What made this recognition more profound was the fact that he himself had scrawled them– no other hand but his own. But then, why had he written Esme’s name?

He struggled to recall any such moments within the times he spent in the dungeon, but he couldn’t remember this exact scene. Was this a product of manipulation? It had to be; there was no other explanation, and Donovan could never harbor hatred for Esme.

She was his mate, bound to him in ways that defied logic. Why would he ever have reason to turn against her? And if, by some impossible chance, he had, she must have been a little child. This had to be a planted memory, a deception seeded in his mind to twist the truth. Someone was toying with his memories, and whoever it was is deliberately weaving falsehood.

The thought alone made his jaw tighten, and his fist clenched as a wave of rage coursed through him.

"I don’t know what you’re on about," Donovan spat, his voice edged with defiance as he spoke to the haunting presence gnawing at his sanity. "But none of this changes anything. Do you really think spinning these lies would push me to hurt her?"

A dark, mocking chuckle echoed through his mind, taunting and insidious. "Oh, you really are blind, but can I blame you, though? Your memories were wiped clean, so of course, you’d leap to protect your beloved mate without question."

A furrow deepened between Donovan’s brows as confusion clouded his thoughts, mingling with the relentless throb of pain and a simmering wrath that threatened to consume him. He strained against the unseen bond, knowing full well that the chains tightening around his neck would drag him deeper into torment if he resisted.

Yet, this time, the torment held an unfamiliar weight— one that hinted at helplessness.

"Kill them all."

The command came with the force of a thunderclap, and Donovan stilled, the voice of his younger self reverberating within him, sharp and full of venom. "Kill them all before it’s too late. Never trust the so-called Illyrian! They’re all liars! Wipe them out! Every last one!"

When his younger self charged towards him, he blinked, and everything vanished. The familiar darkness had returned, but the first thing that registered was the warmth nestled in his palm.

Soft fingers intertwined with his, tender yet unwavering.

He blinked again behind the curtain of his blindfold, but it yielded nothing. Silence whispered back to him, save for the rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat.

The crisp air was laced with the sharp scent of pine, mingled with a faint, lingering fragrance of wildflower that clung to the space around him.

His chest tightened, a sudden stutter disrupting the beat of his heart when he realized it was Esme. Though wildflower wasn’t her usual scent, it was one she had adopted after arriving in the North, a trace of familiarity that made his pulse quicken.

"Esme?"

His voice was low and tentative, but the silence that followed told him everything. His Esme was deep in a slumber, probably sitting on a chair with her head resting on the edge of his bed. The unexpected conclusion made several emotions display on his face. He knew she had been scheduled to meet with the elders, making her presence here a mystery that tugged at the corner of his mind.

He wondered if she had finished early and came to find him. Could it be true? After the torment he had endured a while ago, the fact that she was here brought a wave of relief crashing over him. Without thinking, his fingers tightened around hers, and he squeezed gently, though it was an action done purely out of instinct rather than intent.

Whether or not what he had seen was the truth or not, one thing remains unshaken. Esme was his mate, and he would protect her at any cost, even if that meant safeguarding her from himself.

A subtle shift in pressure roused Esme from the depths of her slumber. Her blurred vision sharpened, and she realized her hand was encased in Donovan’s, his touch radiating warmth and an unspoken promise of safety. Her eyes widened in surprise, and without a moment’s hesitation, she sat up straight, her heart thudding at the unexpected intimacy.

"You’re finally awake!" Esme’s voice trembled in relief, her eyes brightening when he reacted to the sound of her voice. Her heart pounded when he instinctively pulled his fingers away from hers, as if caught in a moment he wasn’t meant to share.

"Yes..." His reply was measured, uncertainty lacing his tone. "But shouldn’t you be at the—"

"I’m so glad you’re alright," Esme interrupted, her voice cracking as she threw her arms around him. The sudden embrace was enough to make him go rigid, every muscle taut with surprise, and he felt a strange heat creep onto his cheeks. But he managed to compose himself just before she withdrew.

"Do you have any idea what you put me through? I thought something terrible had happened to you when you wouldn’t wake up. Do you take pleasure in scaring half to death?"

The raw worry in her voice left Donovan momentarily stunned, confusion shadowing his features. "Me?"

She exhaled shakily, her expression a mix of confusion and lingering fear. "You’ve been unconscious for a whole twenty-two hours. It’s well past noon now. Kangee flew in last night to alert me after you fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up. We tried calling out to you, shaking you, but you were unresponsive. You barely moved."

Donovan’s brow furrowed into a confused frown at her words, and he said nothing. His mind returned to what he could only describe as a harrowing nightmare, and the experience still gnawed at him— the realization that the time spent trapped in that suffocating darkness had somehow influenced reality here.

The true bearer had visited him, of that he was certain, and the vision wouldn’t have shattered unless someone had interrupted the true bearer’s power.

"Are you feeling okay?" Esme’s voice broke through his reverie, softer now as she caught the subtle worry etched on his face. The sight of him unresponsive, as if dead, had left her totally shakened. When Kangee came to find her and told her what was happening, she had abandoned her meetings with the elders without a second thought to be by his side.

Since she had no clue why he refused to wake up, there was nothing she could do to help him. Instead, she stayed by his side, attending to him with other basic methods in hopes that he would wake up soon. Only the moon goddess knew the depths of her relief when she rose to find him awake already.

"Don’t ever scare me like that again," Esme added, "you had everyone worried. But tell me, what exactly happened? Are you feeling unwell? I should inform the others that you’re awake." Uttering countless things at the same time, Esme rose from her seat, but before she had the chance to leave, Donovan’s hand wrapped around her wrist, gently pulling her back down on his bed.

"Don’t call anyone," he said. "You’re the only one I need right now. Just stay by my side. The others can wait."

Donovan didn’t wait for her to protest before resting his head on her lap. Esme’s face turned slightly crimson when he got comfortable, but she let him be.

"But really..." Esme’s voice softened, "If something’s wrong, then you have to tell us. I may not be of much assistance but the others can, and I’ll do what I can to help. You have to promise me you’ll—"

Esme paused when he suddenly wasn’t responding to her anymore. "Huh? Did you go back to sleep?" nudging his shoulder, immediate worry contorted her face when he didn’t respond again.

"Donovan?"

In her moment of panic, his lips twitched into a lazy, mischievous smile. Her heart eased up upon realizing he was just messing with her, but at the same time, a wave of annoyance took over her.

"Seriously, you think it’s funny?"

Donovan chuckled at her outburst, and when Esme tried to shove him off, he grabbed her wrist and turned to her, letting his arm encircle her waist.

"I promise," he said. "I’ll let you and the others know if something’s wrong with me. Now stop moving too much." There was a hint of commandment in his voice, though playful, but Esme found that sexy and unnerving for some reason.