Claimed by the Enemy

CHAPTER 2:The pull of the bond.

Serenya’s POV.

The first rule of surviving a mating ceremony? Don’t faint.

I nearly break it.

My wolf hasn’t stopped pacing since he arrived. The rival Alpha. The man every pup in my pack has been raised to hate like poison in the water. And yet, the second his eyes locked on mine, my wolf practically rolled onto her back like a love-drunk i***t.

I bite the inside of my cheek until copper blooms on my tongue. Anything to stay upright. Anything to keep my body from lunging at him in front of my father, my pack, my betrothed.

The ceremony ends in shaky applause, though I don’t remember a word of it. My father grips my arm like he feels the tremor beneath my skin. He leans in, voice low, furious.

“Stay inside. Do not speak to him.”

Translation: pretend you’re not vibrating like a tuning fork every time the rival Alpha breathes in your direction.

The hall shifts into a feast — long tables, music, laughter I can’t taste. The betrothed Alpha (perfect smile, perfect arrogance, perfectly wrong) slips his arm around my waist. His thumb presses against my hip like he’s staking his claim. And gods help me, all I can think about is how different it felt when Darius brushed past me moments ago — that searing spark, that forbidden tether tugging at my bones.

I laugh at my fiancé’s jokes. Too loudly. Too falsely. He notices. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

My wolf snarls. Not him. Never him.

And then — as if summoned, the rival Alpha prowls past our table. His hand brushes mine under the guise of reaching for wine. The spark jolts through me, sharp and hungry, straight to the hollow ache in my chest.

I jerk back, nearly spilling my drink. My fiancé’s gaze is on me, almost immediately.

“You’re distracted,” he mutters.

No kidding. I’m distracted by your mortal enemy’s hand and the fact my wolf is currently howling like a slut in heat.

I excuse myself before I combust. Outside, the night air is sharp, pine and smoke mingling with him. The bastard is watching me from across the courtyard, eyes gleaming with the kind of hunger that isn’t polite. Not even close.

I run before I forget whose daughter I am.

I dream of him that night. Of course I do.

The darkness folds around me like velvet. Then firelight flickers to life, throwing shadows across a room I don’t recognize.

And he’s there.

The rival Alpha. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like he has been waiting. His eyes glow gold, the way a predator’s do when they’ve chosen their prey.

My throat goes dry. My wolf isn’t afraid — she’s ecstatic, tail wagging like a fool.

Mate.

I try to take a step back, but the floor melts away and suddenly he’s in front of me, caging me against a wooden post. His body heat crashes into mine, stealing the air from my lungs.

“Run,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Or stay. You already know which one your wolf wants.”

I should slap him. I should spit in his face.

Instead, my hands clutch his shirt, dragging him closer like I’ve lost every ounce of sense.

His mouth crashes onto mine. It’s not gentle. It’s fire and demand and hunger all at once.

My knees buckle, but he catches me, lifts me, pins me against the wall like I weigh nothing. His teeth tug at my lower lip, and I moan — a raw, desperate sound I don’t recognize as my own.

His hands are everywhere. Rough palms sliding up my thighs, squeezing, claiming. My dress hikes higher, and the cool air against my skin makes me gasp.

“Mine,” he growls, kissing down my jaw, down my throat. His tongue teases the pulse hammering there, then teeth graze my skin. I arch into him, heat flooding me until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t fight.

My wolf howls her approval, clawing at the edges of my mind. Take him. Claim him. Ours.

He lifts my leg, hooks it over his hip. The hard press of him grinds against me, sparks detonating in my veins. I writhe against him shamelessly, every friction another jolt of sinful lightning.

“You feel that?” he whispers against my ear, voice husky. “That bond? It doesn’t care about borders. About war. About your father’s pride. It only cares about you and me.”

My nails dig into his shoulders as his mouth trails lower, lower, down to the swell of my breast. He bites lightly through the thin fabric, and my back arches, a whimper tearing free.

Gods, this isn’t just a kiss. This is annihilation.

I don’t know when my dress slips off my shoulder, but his mouth finds bare skin, hot and wet and claiming. His hand slides beneath my thigh, higher, until I’m trembling and desperate, rubbing against him like I’ve lost control of my own body.

And when his teeth sink into the soft curve between my neck and shoulder — not breaking skin, just marking, teasing ,my entire body shatters. Pleasure rips through me, sharp and consuming, my wolf screaming mate until I’m shaking, lost in the echo of it.

I cry out his name though I don’t even know if I have ever spoken it. It feels right, raw, torn from the depths of me.

The world blurs. I’m left gasping, clinging to him, feeling more claimed than I’ve ever been in my life.

I dream of firelight and teeth grazing my throat.

Of his hands pinning mine above my head, of the low growl vibrating against my skin as his lips claim me like I already belong to him. My body arches to meet his, heat consuming me, my wolf practically purring in surrender.

Every touch is too much and not enough. Every kiss is a brand. My name is a growl on his lips not “Serenya,” but something darker, something that sounds like mine and his all at once.

I wake with a gasp, sweat cooling on my skin. My sheets smell like pine smoke and wild earth. Like him.

Except… my window is open.

And the scent is too strong to be a dream.