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91 You Are My Mate

Vivian's POV

Something's not right.

I'm hiding in the bedroom, pacing around with my arms crossed, like an ant trapped in a hot pot with no way out.

Ever since I encountered that mysterious man in the garden – no, I should now call him Albert – my mind has been in turmoil.

He's definitely not a messenger for the rogues, or more accurately, not a werewolf at all. I bit my lip, recalling his appearance and that peculiar scent. It was a chilling, somewhat sweet smell, mixed with the stale stench of old blood. It didn't have the warmth and vitality that werewolves possess.

It's... I clutch the hem of my robe, my mind racing back to the knowledge my master once imparted to me. Suddenly, a memory strikes me.

It was a snowy winter's night, and my master and I were sitting by the fire in our cabin deep within the forest. Her long, translucent nails tapped against the window frame as she gazed at the moon in the sky. She smiled and said, "Vivian, do you know what else besides werewolves are ca
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