Claimed by the Enemy

CHAPTER 3: Dangerous Proximity

Serenya’s POV

I thought last night’s dream would fade with daylight. Most dreams do. They dissolve in the morning sun, vanishing like smoke.

But his scent didn’t vanish. It clung to me — under my nails, in my hair, in the raw ache between my thighs.

I scrubbed my skin raw this morning, desperate to erase it. Still, when I walked into the dining hall, it was as if my body knew before my eyes did. My pulse spiked, my wolf stirred. And then he walked in.

Darius.

Alive. Real. Standing in my father’s house like he belonged.

“Serenya,” my father said, voice booming across the table. “Our guest will be staying for several days.”

Guest. The word was acid on my tongue.

The man beside him didn’t look like a guest. He looked like a predator who had willingly stepped into enemy territory because he feared no one here. He moved with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how dangerous you are.

“We’ll be discussing borders,” Father went on, tearing a hunk of bread. “Peace terms. It is vital you show courtesy.”

Peace. I nearly laughed. Nothing about the man radiated peace. His presence was all sharp edges and raw heat.

His eyes slid to mine across the table. Golden, glowing faintly even in daylight.

A jolt raced down my spine.

I looked away first.

Coward.

My wolf perks up, claws digging into my chest, already smug.

Good. He stays.

I slam a wall down in my head. No. Bad. Terrible idea. He should leave. He should run, and I should never see him again.

But of course, my wolf just laughs, the sound low and throaty. You’re lying to yourself, girl.

I want to slap her. Or myself. Or, preferably, Alpha Darius.

Across the table, my betrothed smiles at me, perfect and golden like he has been plucked from some glossy Alpha advertisement. Cillian, son of Alpha Deynor, my soon-to-be mate—if the alliance holds. His hand rests casually on the table, close enough that I know he expects me to lace my fingers with his.

I don’t. My hand curls into a fist in my lap instead.

But Alpha Darius? Darius doesn’t even look at the food, or the council spread across the table. His eyes are locked on me, dark and unblinking. Like he’s daring me to breathe. Like he knows every shallow rise of my chest belongs to him already.

My pulse hammers. My wolf stretches luxuriously, like a cat in sun.

Mine.

I push my chair back too fast, ignoring Father’s frown. “Excuse me,” I mutter, not waiting for permission. If I stay one more second, my wolf is going to leap out of my skin and claw her way across the table at him.

The day should have been simple. I had chores, duties, the endless list of expectations that came with being an Alpha daughter and a future bride.

But every hallway, every corner, every turn, he was there.

Reaching for a cup at the same time as me, his fingers brushing mine. I snatched my hand back as if burned. My wolf whined.

Passing me in the corridor, his shoulder grazed mine, deliberate. The contact was a spark that lingered long after he was gone.

Even when he said nothing, his silence pressed heavy. Like a storm cloud that followed me, waiting to break.

And every time my betrothed appeared, the storm grew heavier.

It happened in the garden. I was tending the herbs, trying to focus on anything but the way my body remembered his dream-touch. My hands shook as I clipped leaves, anger at myself knotting in my chest.

“You look tired.”

His voice slid behind me like smoke. I froze.

“I’m not.”

He stepped closer. Too close. I could feel his warmth at my back. My heart slammed against my ribs.

“You dreamed of me,” he said. No question. A statement.

I spun, glaring up at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Your wolf told mine.”

Liar. But my wolf whined in betrayal, ears flat. My fists curled at my sides.

“You’re nothing to me,” I snapped. “You’re my father’s enemy. My mate is already chosen.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “You know what we are.”

I trembled — from fury, I told myself. From fury, not from the ache that pooled low in my belly.

“Leave me alone.” My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it.

He tilted his head, studying me. Then, softer “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”

And then he was gone, leaving me trembling, clutching the herb knife like it could cut through the bond thrumming between us.

That evening, my betrothed cornered me in the hall.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said. His hand closed around my wrist, too tight.

“I’ve been busy.”

“With him around?” His voice dripped in honey laced suspicion. “My bride shouldn’t be wandering the halls with another man under our roof.”

I wrenched my hand free. “Your bride,” I repeated flatly. “As if I’ve had a choice.”

His eyes darkened. “You’ll be bound to me soon enough. And once you are, no one will mistake who you belong to.”

Belong. The word made my skin crawl.

But I forced a smile, sharp as glass. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Do you?”

He left, but the warning lingered.

By nightfall, my head was a storm.

My wolf paced inside me, restless, snarling every time I thought of my betrothed’s touch. Every time I thought of golden eyes that saw too much.

I couldn’t breathe. I needed air.

So I slipped out, barefoot, into the night. The moon was high. I walked until the walls of my father’s home disappeared behind me.

That’s when I felt him.

A pull, a tether in my chest. I should have turned back. Instead, I followed it.

And there he was, waiting.

Leaning against a tree, arms folded, as if he knew I would come. The moon caught in his hair, gilding him in silver and shadow.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, but my feet betrayed me, carrying me closer.

“Neither should you,” he murmured. “Yet here we are.”

My wolf surged forward, claws raking at my insides. My body trembled, every muscle ready to shift, to run to him, to claim.

I shook my head, fighting it. “I can’t. I won’t.”

His eyes burned brighter. “You already are.”

My breath caught.

The bond roared between us, fierce and unrelenting. My wolf howled, and I swore for a heartbeat my body almost shifted toward him — my nails lengthening, teeth aching, as if she would take control if I didn’t.

I staggered back, clutching my chest, gasping.

He didn’t move. He only watched, patient, steady. Like the moon itself, pulling at the tide until resistance was meaningless.

“Serenya,” he said softly, my name sounding like a vow.

Like his promise to ruin me.