My Centuries Old Mate

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Chapter 4 Obed

Verona

I didn’t sleep a wink the entire night. By the time the sky softened with the first hint of sunrise, a heavy yawn tore from my chest. My eyes burned, my head throbbed, and as soon as the sun finally pushed itself up, I scooped Katara into my arms. I hadn’t even unpacked my things. Leaving would be easy—too easy.

“First,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my face, “we should at least apologize for coming… and then head back home ASAP.” I nodded firmly, as if agreeing with my own plan would make everything simpler.

But then something—someone—or some kind of thing startled me. I didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear the door creak. Nothing. Just a presence suddenly there. My heart jumped to my throat. I spun around.

“Jesus!” I shrieked, stumbling off the bed.

A boy—maybe seven years old—stood in my room, staring at me with the calmness of someone who absolutely should not be that calm. My pulse hammered.

“H–how did you get in here?” I asked, frightened and confused.

He gave a small, almost amused smile. “It is as Tori said.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You still didn’t tell me how you got into my room. I’ve been awake all night, and I didn’t hear the door open.” I pointed a shaky finger at him.

He clicked his tongue sharply. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to point at your elders?”

I blinked. Elders? The word hit me so unexpectedly that I dropped my hand immediately. “Elders?” I repeated, then, despite my fear—burst into laughter. “It seems everyone in this manor is a weirdo,” I said, shaking my head.

But the moment the words left my mouth, something happened—something I had never witnessed in all the years I’d been alive. Something that ripped the laughter from my throat and replaced it with utter paralysis.

The little seven-year-old boy standing in front of me… morphed.

Right there. In front of me.

His small frame stretched, bones shifting, features contorting and expanding in a fluid, impossible way. Within seconds, the child was gone—replaced by a grown man.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t even breathe. My entire body locked in place, stiff with terror. My eyes widened until they hurt, my breath caught somewhere painfully in my chest.

Then the newly formed man spoke, his voice deep and unmistakably adult.

“Breathe. Breathe. You’re not breathing! Do you want your grandfather to kill me because I scared his granddaughter to death?” he shouted.

His words barely reached me. My brain was too busy trying to understand what I had just seen. My grip on Katara loosened without meaning to, and she slipped from my hands, landing with a startled meow.

“You…” I croaked, pointing again despite his earlier warning. “You were— you were a kid… just now. How—how did you…?”

The room tilted.

Whether it was the lack of sleep, the sheer shock, or the overwhelming fear—maybe all of them at once—my body gave out. My knees buckled, the floor rushed up to meet me, and everything around me dissolved into thick, swallowing darkness.

Deep in sleep, I heard voices, three of them—blurred and echoing like they were drifting through water.

“You did it too much, you know?” one voice complained.

Another replied quickly, “I know, I know. She was laughing at me so I lost control. I just wanted to scare her a little.”

A third voice followed, sounding completely bored, “Leave him be. She isn’t dead. She’ll wake up anytime soon.”

As if responding to his prediction, my eyes fluttered open. My heart lurched, and I shot upright.

“Oh, see? She’s up,” said the guy who had transformed from a child into an adult earlier.

“It… it wasn’t a dream?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He laughed. “Well, if it was a dream, how am I still here?”

Panic slammed into me so fast I couldn’t think. I scrambled off the bed, nearly tumbling headfirst onto the floor. A strong arm caught me before I could fall.

When I turned, I found Evan holding me steady. His eyes locked onto mine, gentle but firm, and he gave a small, calm smile.

“Don’t mind Obed,” he said soothingly. “He plays too much for an old man of his age.”

“That is not true!” Obed snapped. “I’m not that old! And besides, you all are older than me. I’m just 124, for crying out loud.”

…What.

What did I just hear?

I pulled out of Evan’s hands and stepped back, staring at the three men in front of me. They looked so normal, so calm, as if nothing about this situation was insane.

“You all will tell me what the hell is going on. Right now.” I screamed, my voice shaking. They still had that normal expression on their faces, which terrified me even more.

“Okay, okay,” Evan said, taking a cautious step toward me—so I took one back.

“Look here, granddaughter… all is not what it seems,” he began.

“Then explain,” I demanded.

He nodded slowly. “This will be a shock to you,” he said in a calm, almost tired voice, “but… we’re not human.”

My eyebrows knotted tightly. “What? Th… th… then what are you?” I stammered.

Evan sighed. “Tori and I, as well as others you’ll meet later… We're werewolves.”

I blinked rapidly. My brain refused to process it.

“And Obed here,” Evan added, pointing lazily, “is a mixed werewolf and a wizard.”

A wizard?

A werewolf?

Werewolves?

Was this some kind of prank? A play? A hidden-camera movie production? Because this explanation didn’t help—it made everything worse. My head throbbed so sharply I had to hold it with both hands.

Tori rushed forward as if to steady me, but I immediately stretched out my hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” I warned, backing away slowly. “I… I’d like to go back home.” I said. Before I totally ran mad.

But as calmly as it was terrifying, Evan responded, “That… would not be possible.”

My shoulders sagged. “Why?” I asked, a hint of amused disbelief in my voice. “You can’t hold me here.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “If we’re werewolves, Verona… it means you are too. Yours is just suppressed.”

I shook my head violently. “You know not what you speak of!” I snapped, backing away slightly—but he came closer, undeterred.

His eyes locked on mine, and for the briefest second, I saw something I didn’t expect: sadness. “And so was my wife… my precious wife… your Nana,” he said softly.

For a heartbeat, I almost believed him. But logic fought back. I shook my head, still in denial. “No… my Nana was nothing like you,” I whispered, my voice trembling, refusing to accept any of this. None of it made sense.

“That’s because your Nana was not an ancient werewolf,” Obed interrupted, stepping closer. I snapped my head toward him, alarmed.

“Ancient werewolves live longer and retain their youth. They do die… well, except for the Alpha King, of course,” he added casually, shrugging as if this were an ordinary fact, not earth-shattering news.

Just as I was about to respond, a loud, insistent grumble erupted from my stomach. My face immediately burned with embarrassment. All eyes—three pairs of piercing, unearthly eyes—fell on mu belly.

It wasn’t my fault—I hadn’t eaten in hours. My stomach practically ached in protest.

“Well, before anything else… you must eat,” Evan said gently, breaking the tension.

I looked away, ashamed, but also defeated. How the hell am I supposed to eat in a place like this? I thought, scanning the unfamiliar room. And yet… hunger gnawed at me so sharply I couldn’t ignore it.

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