Chapter 3: The Enemy’s Touch
1320 Words
Avery’s POV
Tears burned behind my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. I was shaking all over, my hands pressed into the dirt.
Why had he let me go?
Was this some cruel new game?
I stayed curled up, too afraid to look at him. But I could feel his eyes. Watching me. Like a knife pressed to my skin.
“Look up,” Michael said, voice deep and cold.
I didn’t move.
“I said Look up,” he growled calmly.
Still, I stayed frozen, hugging myself, sobbing quietly.
I was going to die.
Then, something in me shifted. Maybe it was Rae, my wolf, maybe just the last of my strength—but I slowly lifted my head.
He was crouched in front of me now. Face close. Too close.
His dark eyes studied me like I was a broken object.
“Look at me when I speak to you,” he said quietly. “Turn your head from me again, and I might forget you’re my mate and end this.”
Mate?
Did I hear him right?
I blinked at him, confused and scared.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his lips twitching. “I’m not excited about it either.”
He looked away, like even saying the word annoyed him. Then, to my surprise, he sat down beside me with a sigh. I gulped.
“Well… shit.”
That word hung in the air.
“I marked you”
“Huh” I said in a state of shock. I unseathed my hand from the wound of the bite. On closer inspection it was true.
“I..I’m not bleeding” heat rose from within my stomach.
“I’m in heat” I blurted the words. And immediately regretted it. Michael Damire shifted awkwardly.
“I’ve never been in heat before,” I sobbed. And now I was for this.. this monster!
I stared at him, unsure. He didn’t seem so dangerous sitting like that. More tired than terrifying. Maybe I was tired, because what about Michael Damire wasn’t terrifying?
He rubbed his hands over his face. “Of all the girls in the damn world… why you?”
“Thanks,” I said dryly, voice hoarse. Was I having fun? Michael Damire, the alpha who’d waged war in my pack and my people, who was just about to snap my neck like a fragile twig, was my mate? And I was surprisingly chill about it.
He looked at me, surprised I even spoke. “Wasn’t expecting sass from the girl crying in the dirt two minutes ago.”
“I wasn’t crying,” I lied. Moon goddess tell me this is a faint trick, a jest?
He gave a short laugh. “Sure.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I felt lightheaded. My throat sore.
Michael sat, his head bent in between his legs. His hair was a mess.
I watched him, still afraid, but… curious too. Something about him reminded me of my father. The heaviness. The pain hidden behind anger.
I slowly reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.
His head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “You just… looked sad.”
He stared at me. The look of hatred gradually seemed to fade from his face morphing into just… confusion.
Then, he leaned forward and kissed me.
My breath caught.
I pushed against his chest weakly. “Wait—what are you doing?” What were we doing? Tell me, how did we go from “I’m going to tear you limb from limb,” to stealing my first kiss?
He pulled back only a little. “It stops the pain.”
“What?”
“When I touch you…” he looked at me, serious now. “The curse goes quiet.”
I couldn’t speak.
My heart beat fast in my chest. Rae stirred Within me . Stronger than she’d ever been at any time. She didn’t seem afraid.
I blinked up at him, still catching my breath. My heart was beating too fast. The air was heavy around us—quiet, tense, like something was about to break.
His lips were rough, sudden, hot against mine.
I froze. It didn’t make sense.
I shoved him back, eyes wide.
“Are you insane?” I spat, wiping my mouth. “How dare you kiss me!”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked… surprised.
“I wasn’t trying to kiss you!” I rushed out. “I mean—before—I fixed your hair because I—I don’t know, okay? I do things without thinking sometimes. It’s compulsive! That didn’t mean—” I stopped, breathing hard.
What the hell was I even saying?
I fixed the hair of the man who killed my father.
Was I losing my mind? Was the grief making me… manic?
The air around us felt thick. Strange. His scent, the moonlight, the way he looked at me—it all made it hard to think.
“I want to kiss you again,” Michael said suddenly, interrupting my rambling.
I stared at him. My stomach flipped.
He’s insane, I thought. Absolutely insane.
But… he was also still close enough to kill me. One wrong move and I could still be dead. I also wanted to survive. I needed to survive.
I covered my face with both hands and whispered under my breath, “I’m not thinking rationally.”
To my shock, he heard me.
“Yeah,” he said, softly. His hand reached out, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Me too.”
Then his hands cupped my face—and he kissed me again.
This time, deeper.
Stronger.
His lips moved like they had every right. His hands explored my body like he was memorizing it. I felt him—his warmth, his hunger. One hand slid over my waist, the other… higher.
He cupped my breast. I gasped in surprise. My body tensed.
I should’ve pulled away.
But I didn’t.
He kept kissing me, and I let him. I was falling—slowly, stupidly. I hated him. And yet…
He was so beautiful.
“Michael…” I whispered.
He stopped.
Pulled back.
He looked at me like he had never seen me before.
“Damn,” he muttered, standing and pacing. Then he shouted up at the sky, “What’s happening?! What the hell is going on?!”
I stood there, out of breath, my skin tingling where he touched me.
I need to leave, I thought.
Then I said it aloud, softly, “I need to leave… I need to leave.”
Michael spun around.
“No,” he said quickly. He startled me. But then his gaze softened. “No. Ugh. No, Avery Cawthorne… you’re my fated mate. I… I can’t believe it.”
He looked lost. Like something in him had snapped and reformed all at once.
Then, just as fast, his face darkened. “But you’re the daughter of my enemy.”
I stepped back instinctively.
He dropped to his knees again, breathing hard. “And… you’re a brat.”
I blinked. “What?”
Brat? Me? He’s the brat. Waging wars, kissing people out of nowhere!
He continued, voice bitter but weirdly calm. “You had everything handed to you, Avery Cawthorne,” he said with a crooked smile, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
The moonlight made his face glow. It wasn’t fair how beautiful he was. Who does this guy think he is?
He kept talking, crawling slowly toward me on his knees.
“People like me,” he said, low and intense, “if we want something…” he was getting closer, I backed away until my spine hit a tree. He cupped my cheek again. His lips barely centimeters away from mine. “We take it.”
- Writer
