Villainess Marked For Her Alpha Chapter 77: I Hate His Touch

After devouring the ice cream to relieve myself from the burning sensation—vanilla cream saring glossy down my chin and soaking the front of my oversized t-shirt sheer—sheer enough to trace my bra—I had to change.

The sticky ss clung cold and weird to my skin, high ponytail frizzing damp, so now we were at the mall, bright fluorescents buzzing overhead.

"Why am I covered with your jacket and blazer?" I glared up at them, feeling like an idiot mummified in Hellen’s red jacket draped over my shoulders and Reyes’ navy blazer belted rough around my waist—layers engulfing my petite fra, sleeves flopping comically past my fingertips, the dual alpha scents—honey-citrus and cedar-steel—wrapping thick like a cocoon. For so reason, I felt calm.

"You want to hear the reason?" Reyes drawled first, gray eyes glinting under her cap brim, scarred jaw quirking as she lood close.

"A lot of reasons were there, Emily. But my jacket would have worked fine," Hellen cut in sharp from my left, blonde ponytail twitching aggressive, ice-blue gaze flashing rivalry.

"My blazer is perfectly fine. You can take off your jacket," Reyes countered smooth, brogues planted dominantly.

"Stop fighting!" I yelled, wriggling engulfed in their clothes—fabric rustling heavy, heat building trapped against my body. They sneered at each other, lips curling synced disdain, then looked away pointedly, pheromones clashing subtle sparks.

The sales girl’s eyes brightened like spotlights as she clocked us. "Ms. Emily and Ms. Hellen, welco! Welco, Miss...?"

"Reyes," she supplied clipped, powerful fra radiating that ex-military wall.

"Yes, welco." The girl bead at , gaze flicking to the wall of my posters—erald-eyed winking in cat-ear couture—and TVs looping my ads—slow-motion shots of cradling pups in Helly Paws gear. "Here to see how your section’s selling? No need—it’s one of the best. Flying off shelves."

"Did we open here too?" I asked Hellen, blinking surprise. I didn’t know that this mall was our custor too.

She nodded crisp, ponytail swaying. "Yes, we have." She turned to the girl. "Emily wants so clothes."

"Of course, follow , Ms. Emily."

I trailed her through racks of silk and cotton, the two alphas shadowing like panthers—Hellen’s heels clicking, Reyes’ brogues thudding—eyes scanning every dress I touched—flowy maxis, crop tops, skirts flaring lacy.

Finally, I chose a snug turtleneck top in cream—soft knit to hug my breasts modestly, who have decided to increase a bit—and baggy green cargos that cinched tiny at my waist, loose over hips. Clutching them, I headed for the changing rooms, curtained alcoves glowing warm.

But they trailed right after, broad fras crowding the narrow hall. Are they seriously following inside? Haven’t they heard the word called ’privacy?’

"What are you trying to do?" I spun, glaring up—engulfed layers rustling indignant.

"We..." Hellen started, eyes darkening a bit.

"We were..." Reyes appeared startled, while her eyes looked a bit cloudy.

"Just go away! Are you trying to see changing my dress or what? Go away!" I huffed, my cheeks blooming rose.

"Where?"

"Where should we go?"

They asked in unison.

I yelled, "Find sothing, okay? But don’t wait here! Go and find a big teddy bear for !"

"Teddy bear?" Hellen echoed, brow arching sceptical.

"Yes!" I stamped my foot, shoving the curtain shut.

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When I erged from the changing room—fresh in the cream turtleneck hugging my full curves modest, green cargos slung low on my tiny waist and baggy over plush hips, high ponytail sleek again—I waved the sales girl over.

"Pack my old clothes, these two things. Everything." She nodded and efficiently folded the sticky, ice-cream-sared layers with care. "Thank you." I gave her a big tip.

Tips always made happy when I was a barista—especially, big tips. So, I could sense the girl’s happiness even without looking at her.

Wait?

Where are Hellen and Reyes?

Did those two seriously ditch to hunt a giant teddy bear?

I shook my head, swiping my card quick before bolting to the second floor—escalator humming up past glittering storefronts, mall AC sighing cool against my skin. Let’s play around until they find

Suddenly, a sneer slithered from my right. I whipped around—red-haired man looming too close, tousled waves catching the fluorescent glare, brown eyes glinting sly like a fox scenting weakness—sharp jaw dusted stubble, tailored black shirt unbuttoned casual over a swimr’s build, silver watch flashing as he leaned in. Felix.

The novel’s fourth male lead, all charm masking venom—the last worshipper of Lily.

"Oh, it’s been years since we t, Emily," he drawled velvet-smooth, lips curling predatory, stepping into my space—his cologne-heavy fra crowding the balcony rail.

I looked away sharp, erald eyes narrowing, heart kicking instinctive revulsion—high ponytail flicking dismissively as I pivoted for the exits. I don’t want to waste my ti on him.

All the male leads held so grudge against , even though I stayed away from them.

"Are you ignoring now?" His voice dropped mocking, brown eyes flashing affront.

I strode off fast, cargos swishing, but his hand clamped my wrist like iron—yanking back brutal into his chest, free arm snaking possessive around my waist from behind. "Emily, think you’re too great now that you’re famous? Helly Paws, was it? Strutting on billboards like so pet-whore icon?"

What is up with all these male leads?! Calling nas, and getting physical with ?! I hate Lily! I really hate her!

In the novel, Felix was OG Emily’s childhood ’friend’—arranged marriage contract sealed by their grandfathers for empire rger, alpha-oga pairing dood from the start. Why? Because neither Felix, nor Emily turned out to be an oga.

So, it was considered invalid from the start.

Now his grip bruised my skin, breath hot on my nape—musky alpha pheromones flooding acrid, like cheap leather rotting in rain, churning my stomach to near-puke.

"Let go!" I snarled, twisting fierce—elbow jabbing back, free fist swinging wild for his smug face.

He laughed low, snatching my flying hand mid-air, fingers lightly around my knuckles. "Such delicate little hands, but you’re trying to hit ?" Felix spun effortless, pinning my back flush to his front—arms banding my ribs like steel cables, one palm splaying dominant over my navel through the turtleneck, the other trapping both my wrists crossed at my chest.

His stubble scratched roughly against my temple as he leaned in closer, brown eyes looking down at with clear dislike, red hair brushing my cheek like an annoyance. He pressed against tighter, as if to make his point.

Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks—I felt sick and grossed out by his touch, my skin prickling uncomfortably. When Hellen or Reyes held , it always felt nice and secure, but this was all wrong, his sll turning my stomach.

I struggled harder, my smaller body no match for his strength, choking out sobs as I said, "Get off !" louder. He just gripped firr and gave a low, mocking laugh right by my ear.