WOLFLESS: Accidentally Marked By The Devil's Son-Chapter 29: Reverse it?

Chapter 29

Clara smoothed the silk of her sleeve, her expression shifting back to one of regal indifference.

"Now that the drama is out of the way. Tell me why you’ve truly breached my threshold, Lucian. I assume you aren’t here to recall our past." she said, her voice regaining its razor-edged calm

Isabella, feeling a sudden surge of impatient adrenaline, tried to cut in. "We were looking for a witch who could—"

"You don’t get to talk, wolfless." The word was dropped.Clara didn’t even turn her head to acknowledge her.

She spoke as if she were addressing a piece of unwanted debris that had blown in with the wind.

Isabella froze. The term hit her. It was the same slur that had been spat at her since childhood. The brand of her shame, the reason she was an outcast in her own home.

To hear it now, from this glowing, ageless woman who looked like she held the threads of life itself between her fingers made Isabella’s vision bleach white.

Something inside her snapped.

A low snarl tore from her chest as her fingers curled, nails sharpening into claws without her permission.

Rage surged, drowning out reason, pride, restraint. She lunged for Clara’s elegant, infuriatingly calm face.

But before she could take a full step, Lucian’s hand shot out, catching her wrist mid-motion. His grip was cold, iron-hard, stopping her dead.

Isabella looked down at the hand restraining her, then slowly up at him. Her eyes burned, gold flaring dangerously beneath the fury.

"Let. Go." She violently shook her arm, wrenching herself out of his grasp with enough force to make her stagger.

Lucian didn’t retaliate. He didn’t bare his fangs or bark an order. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his chest rising as if the air itself weighed too much.

Through the bond, he was burning. Isabella’s emotions were no longer distant echoes at the edge of his mind.

They crashed into him in a roaring inferno—rage, humiliation, old wounds torn open and bleeding.

His newly restarted pulse thudded painfully under the weight of it, each beat echoing her fury.

He forced himself to remain still, he needed to stay level-headed. He knew Clara—he had known her for over two thousand years.

Despite her youthful, ethereal beauty, she was an ancient creature who fed on the impulsiveness of the young.

Clara fed on provocation. She enjoyed watching others unravel while she remained untouched.

She was a master of the long game, and right now, she was testing the leash Isabella had unknowingly snapped around his throat.

"She’s radiating enough bile to melt the stone, Lucian," Clara remarked, her white eyes shimmering with a dark amusement.

"Your little anchor is quite the firebrand. It’s a pity she lacks the soul of a wolf to back up that bark."

Lucian ignored Clara’s barb, his focus entirely on keeping the peace before the cave collapsed under the weight of their combined tension.

"You do know not to tempt me, Clara." Clara tilted her head, her black hair cascading over her shoulder.

"Tempt you?" She laughed, a sound like silver bells in a graveyard. "No, my prince. You and your new pet are the ones standing on dangerous ground."

Her gaze flicked to Isabella, sharp and assessing. "You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need my help. Which means I hold the upper hand."

Lucian’s jaw remained tight, he didn’t deny her words. Silence pressed down between them.

Isabella’s breathing was the only sound, harsh and uneven as she fought the urge to tear Clara apart at the word pet.

She was no one’s pet. But this fucking Clara made it her mission to get on her nerves.

"As you’ve already guessed," Lucian said at last, his voice lower than usual, stripped of arrogance, "I do need your help."

The admission tasted bitter. "I accidentally marked a mortal," he continued. "A bond that violates laws. I’m here to reverse it." Clara’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

"Reverse it?" she murmured, stepping closer. "You’ve brought a beacon into my home, Lucian. Her soul is screaming through your bond, and you want me to simply undo it?"

Her gaze slid to Isabella at last—cold, invasive. "Tell me, wolfless... did you know that when you tied your life to his, you forfeited your own? Or were you too busy playing the hero to realize that a vampire’s mate is usually just a glorified meal?"

Isabella’s stomach dropped. "Clara," Lucian warned, a guttural growl vibrating in his chest.

"Is it not the truth?" Clara purred, her eyes flicking to Isabella’s wounded lip. "She is weak. A fragile, temporary thing. Why bother reversing it when you could simply just kill her? It would solve your problem quite neatly and fulfilling."

Lucian stepped slightly in front of Isabella, a subtle shift that blocked Clara’s predatory view.

A position that spoke louder than any threat. "Her strength is not measured by your standards," he said coldly.

"And if you cannot assist without reducing her to an inconvenience, then perhaps I should remove you and seek a witch who understands the value of staying alive."

The words settled heavily in the air. The weight of his words caused a strange, warmth in Isabella’s chest—one she quickly tried to shove down.

Clara studied Lucian for a long moment. Then she smiled. With a casual flick of her hand, the air shuddered.

The damp stone walls of the cave blurred, edges bleeding into shadow. Cold rock softened into dark wood.

The scent of rot dissolved, replaced by lavender, crushed herbs, and old parchment. Isabella gasped, blinking rapidly.

This was the cabin. The one she had seen in the forest—the one that had vanished and turned back into a cave when she thought she was hallucinating.

So it has been here this whole time, Isabella thought, her mind reeling. The cabin was a layer of reality she hadn’t been able to pierce until now.

Without another word, Clara turned and walked toward the heavy wooden door. It swung open on its own, welcoming its mistress.

She stepped onto the plush rugs inside, leaving the two of them standing on the threshold of her secret world.

"Coming?" Clara asked over her shoulder. "Or would you prefer to keep bleeding on my porch?"