ALPHA OF MY ENEMY : When a vampire and a werewolf are bound by fate

Adria's POV Adria Bancroft’s boots crunched through the snow, her breath a sharp hiss in the frigid Colorado night. The banquet’s stifling chatter still clung to her like a bad scent of vampires in tailored suits, their smiles sharp as their fangs, whispering about her dead parents, her claim, her weakness. She’d slipped out, needing air, needing escape. The mountain’s shadow loomed over the Bancroft estate, a sprawling gothic beast of stone and secrets. Her heart pounded, not from the cold but from the prickle of danger at her neck. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A twig snapped. Adria froze, her icy blue eyes scanning the darkness. Shadows moved—too fast, too deliberate. Vampires. Her own kind. Her cousins’ scent, Elaric and Lazarus, bitter as betrayal, hit her like a slap. They’d been too polite tonight, their bows too low. She cursed her naivety. The air shifted, and a blade gleamed, slicing toward her throat. “Adria, run!” Lara’s voice, desperate, cut through the night. Her friend lunged from the trees, tackling one of the cloaked figures. Adria didn’t hesitate. She bolted, her vampiric speed a blur, snow spraying behind her. Her leather jacket snagged on branches, but she didn’t stop. The creek, the forbidden line between Bancroft and Conri territory, was her only shot. Cross it, and she’d be in werewolf land. Death for a vampire, but better than the daggers chasing her. Footfalls pounded behind her, Elaric’s snarl too close. “You can’t outrun us, cousin!” His voice dripped venom. Lazarus’s laugh echoed, colder than the wind. Adria’s lungs burned, her legs pumping faster. The creek glinted ahead, a silver ribbon under the moon. She leapt, splashing into icy water, and scrambled onto Conri soil. Forbidden. Deadly. Her heart thundered, but she kept moving, weaving through pines. A growl rumbled, low and primal. Not her cousins. Something else. She skidded to a halt, chest heaving, as a massive figure loomed a werewolf, blonde fur glinting, green eyes blazing. Caleb. She’d heard of him, the Conri pack’s enforcer. His presence screamed danger, but his gaze locked on her pursuers, not her. “Stay back, bloodsuckers,” Caleb’s voice was a rough snarl, human now, his shift seamless. His broad shoulders tensed, muscles rippling under a torn shirt, his blonde hair wild. Adria’s breath caught, not just from fear. Heat coiled low in her belly, unbidden, at the sight of him raw, powerful, untamed. Elaric stepped forward, dagger raised. “She’s ours, dog. Hand her over.” Caleb’s lips curled into a feral grin. “Cross this creek, and you’re dead.” His eyes flicked to Adria, a spark of something curiosity, maybe desire flashing in them. Her skin tingled under his stare, her body betraying her with a flush she couldn’t afford. Lazarus laughed, twirling his blade. “You think you can stop us? She’s a threat to our clan.” Adria’s fists clenched. “You’re the threat, you're backstabbing bastards!” Her voice shook with rage, but she stood her ground, Caleb’s presence a strange anchor. Lara stumbled into the clearing, blood dripping from a gash on her arm. “Adria, they’ve got Night Blades with them!” Her warning was a gasp, her curls matted with sweat. Adria’s stomach dropped. The Night Blades vampire assassins, loyal to no one but power. Her cousins had gone all in. She glanced at Caleb, his stance protective, his body a wall between her and death. Why was he helping her? A werewolf saving a vampire? It made no sense, but the heat in his gaze sent a shiver through her, one that had nothing to do with the cold. “Last chance,” Caleb growled, his voice low, dangerous. “Leave, or I rip you apart.” Elaric smirked, but his eyes darted to the shadows. More growls echoed more werewolves. Adria’s pulse raced. She was trapped between enemies and an ally she didn’t understand. Caleb’s scent, musky and wild, filled her senses, stirring something primal. Her fangs ached, her body humming with a need she couldn’t name. Not blood. Him. Lazarus lunged, blade flashing. Caleb moved faster, catching his wrist and twisting until bone snapped. Lazarus howled, but Elaric was already on Adria, his dagger grazing her arm. Pain seared, but she spun, kicking him back with vampiric strength. Blood dripped onto the snow, her blood, and Caleb’s growl turned feral. “Touch her again, and you’re dead,” he roared, shoving Lazarus into the creek. The Night Blades hesitated, their cloaks blending with the dark. Adria’s heart pounded, her body alive with adrenaline and something darker, hotter. Caleb’s eyes met hers again, and the air crackled. She shouldn’t want him not a werewolf, not her enemy but her body screamed otherwise, her skin burning where his gaze lingered. “Adria, we have to go!” Lara grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the trees. But Caleb’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. His touch was fire, sending a jolt through her core. She gasped, her thighs clenching involuntarily. His grip was firm, possessive, his green eyes darkening with something that mirrored her own hunger. “You’re not going anywhere,” Caleb said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “You’re on our land now.” Elaric’s laugh cut through the tension. “Keep her, wolf. She’s dead either way.” He retreated, the Night Blades melting into the shadows with him. Lazarus limped after, clutching his broken wrist. Adria’s chest heaved, her body torn between fear and the electric pull of Caleb’s touch. His fingers lingered on her wrist, thumb brushing her pulse point, and she bit back a moan. This was insane. He was a werewolf. She was a vampire. But the way he looked at her, like he wanted to devour her, made her want to let him. “Caleb, what’s the call?” Another werewolf Mace, broad and dark-haired emerged from the trees, his eyes wary but loyal. Caleb didn’t look away from Adria. “She’s with me.” His voice was final, a claim that sent heat pooling between her legs. She should fight, should run, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch. Lara’s eyes widened. “Adria, he’s a Conri! You can’t—” “I don’t have a choice,” Adria snapped, her voice sharp but her gaze locked on Caleb. His jaw clenched, and she saw it with the same hunger, the same confusion. This wasn’t just about territory. Something deeper, something fated, was pulling them together. Caleb released her wrist, but his eyes held her captive. “You’re safe for now, Bancroft. But you’re not leaving.” Adria’s lips parted, a retort ready, but a howl split the night. Not Conri. Not Bancroft. Something else something worse. Caleb’s head snapped toward the sound, his body tensing. Adria’s heart lurched. The Night Blades weren’t done. And neither was this war.