Claimed by the Enemy

Serenya’s POV. They say the moon sees all secrets. If that’s true, then tonight she’s probably laughing her silver ass off at me. Because here I am, sitting on a velvet stool in my chambers, while half a dozen pack women fuss over me like I’m the sacrificial lamb at a very expensive wedding. One smooths my hair until my scalp aches, another pins a jewel into my braid, and two more tug at the silken fabric of my ceremonial dress—white, shimmering, heavy as a chain. It’s supposed to symbolize purity, renewal, union. But to me? It feels like a shroud. “Breathe, Luna-to-be,” one of them croons. Luna-to-be. Goddess, if I hear that title one more time, I might shift right here and bite someone. I force a smile in the mirror. The girl staring back has doe eyes and perfect skin, her lips painted berry-red, her collar marked with glittering powder. She looks like she’s glowing. She looks like the kind of woman who wants this. But that girl isn’t me. Not really. Inside, my wolf is restless. She paces the cage of my chest, claws scraping at my ribs. A low growl vibrates through my bones, making it hard to sit still. Not him, she whispers. Not ours. I press my lips together, hard enough to taste blood. I’ve been training her for weeks—months to accept this night. To accept Cillian, the son of Alpha Daynor from the North Ridge Pack. The match that would seal the alliance my father spent decades building. Duty. Legacy. Peace. Those were the words I was raised on. Not desire. Certainly not choice. And Cillian isn’t… bad. He’s tall, golden-haired, with that arrogant grin that makes every girl in the pack sigh. He’s the kind of man who expects to be adored. My father says he’ll make a strong Alpha, that with him at my side, our packs will rule the valley. But my wolf hates him. She has been restless since the day I met him, ears flat, hackles raised. “Almost ready,” the head attendant says. She gives my veil one last fluff and beams like she just polished me for auction. Lucky me. The doors swing open, and two guards step inside. “The Alpha requests his daughter.” Of course he does. I stand, my dress dragging like water around my legs. The women coo their blessings, but my stomach knots tighter with every step. Down the hall, the music swells—drums and flutes, echoing through the packhouse. Outside, the moon is full and fat, spilling silver light over the ceremony grounds. The air smells of pine, fire, and expectation. Dozens of pack members turn as I appear. Their faces glow with pride. To them, I am the symbol of unity, the bridge between rival packs. My smile, my vows, my obedience—they are worth more than my own happiness. My father waits at the end of the aisle, tall and imposing, his shoulders squared with pride. Beside him, Cillian stands in black ceremonial leathers, smug as sin, his hand extended. I take a breath. One step. Another. My wolf snarls, but I keep walking. When I reach Cillian, he grips my hand like he already owns me. His palm is hot, fingers tightening around mine. “Beautiful,” he murmurs for my ears alone, flashing his perfect teeth. “You’ll make this alliance unforgettable.” I wonder if he rehearsed that line in the mirror. The officiant raises his hands, calling for silence. The drums slow. The moonlight seems to sharpen, illuminating us like prey on a stage. “This union,” the officiant declares, “is blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. Tonight, two packs become one. Two wolves, one bond. Let the vows be spoken—” The air shifts. It happens so suddenly, I almost stumble. A ripple moves through the crowd, like the forest itself just leaned closer. Wolves stir, ears flicking, spines stiffening. And then the gates crash open. A hush falls. All eyes swing toward the entrance. He strides in like he owns the night. Dark leathers, shoulders broad, a scar cutting across his jaw like a challenge. His hair is black as midnight, his eyes—goddess, those eyes glow like amber fire in the moonlight. And they’re locked on me. My wolf slams against my chest, howling. MATE. My knees nearly buckle. The world tilts, my lungs seize, and every ounce of blood in my body surges to my heart. My hand rips from Cillian’s grip before I even realize it. The crowd gasps. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Because my wolf is thrashing, keening with joy, clawing at my skin to get to him. To us. The rival Alpha doesn’t stop. He walks straight into the sacred circle, ignoring the snarls of my father’s guards, the shocked gasps of the pack. His gaze never leaves mine, a smirk curling slow and deliberate at the corner of his mouth. Like he knows. Like he has been waiting for this. My stomach drops. Not him. Anyone but him. Because I know that face. Darius Blackthorn. Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack. My father’s sworn enemy. The man responsible for half the blood feuds that scar our valley. And my wolf is clawing, screaming, aching—claim him. Claim him now. No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Cillian’s voice breaks through the ringing in my ears. “What the hell is he doing here?” The crowd erupts in growls and shouts. My father’s voice booms, commanding order, demanding Darius leave. But I can’t hear them. I can only hear my wolf. Mate. Mate. Mate. Darius stops at the edge of the altar. His eyes burn into me, feral, triumphant. And then—he smile. Slow, knowing, devastating. The smile of a man who just won a war without lifting a claw. Heat rips through me, violent and undeniable. My legs give way, and I stumble forward. The pack gasps as Cillian lunges to steady me, but I shove him off. My body won’t let him touch me. Everyone is staring. My father’s face is thunder, Cillian’s is murder. And me? I’m standing here, trembling, staring at the one man I should never want. The one man the Goddess has bound me to. My mate. My father’s enemy. Darius Blackthorn.