I’m a Witch Who Bought a Strong Werewolf Slave

I bought a breathtakingly handsome and sculpted werewolf slave from the magic black market.

His rock-hard abs were on full display, and his deep V-lines pointed straight down into his tight, low-slung pants.

But once I got him home, it was clear something was very wrong.

A low, suppressed growl rumbled constantly in his throat.

He stared at me with his golden wolf eyes, looking like he wanted to tear me apart and devour me whole. His body burned like a walking furnace.

I thought he had wolfsbane fever and frantically contacted the seller.

The seller was silent for three seconds after hearing my description.

[My dear witch, is it possible he isn't sick, but just...hungry?]

[The kind of hungry...that makes a werewolf want to pin you to a wall and sink his fangs into your neck to mark you?]

I bought a breathtakingly handsome and sculpted werewolf slave from the magic black market.

His rock-hard abs were on full display, and his deep V-lines pointed straight down into his tight, low-slung pants.

But once I got him home, it was clear something was very wrong.

A low, suppressed growl rumbled constantly in his throat.

He stared at me with his golden wolf eyes, looking like he wanted to tear me apart and devour me whole. His body burned like a walking furnace.

I thought he had wolfsbane fever and frantically contacted the seller.

The seller was silent for three seconds after hearing my description.

[My dear witch, is it possible he isn't sick, but just...hungry?]

[The kind of hungry...that makes a werewolf want to pin you to a wall and sink his fangs into your neck to mark you?]

...

I blew my life savings on a top-tier werewolf slave from the black market.

The listing was written in bold: Top-tier Alpha bloodline. Cold, strong, and wild.

But what really sold me was the final attribute listed: strong.

That word seemed tailor-made for the disaster that was my potion workshop.

I barely hesitated before maxing out my credit card.

The moment the payment went through, a magical message from the seller popped up.

[Seller: Miss Cici, about the werewolf you've purchased, I must remind you of something.]

[Me: Hm? Is there a problem with the delivery?]

[Seller: No, we have plenty in stock.]

[Seller: The one you've chosen, while of our highest-grade bloodline, is extremely wild and difficult to tame. For a witch living alone like yourself, we usually recommend a more docile Omega, or one that has already been tamed.]

I replied in a flash:

[No, I want this one. A docile one can't do heavy lifting. I need someone strong, durable, and with good stamina.]

After all, my cauldron weighs half a ton. How could one of those delicate Omegas possibly move it?

The seller was silent for a moment, then finally sent a message tinged with a subtle pity:

[Seller: Very well, since you insist. We wish you...a long and happy life.]

Two days later, there