Blood Bound To My Enemy

CHAPTER FIVE

💐 CHAPTER FIVE 💐

The bond was driving me insane.

Three days since the ritual, and I could feel Jaxon everywhere. His presence hummed under my skin like electricity, a constant awareness that made concentration impossible. When he was angry, heat flashed through my chest. When he was in pain, phantom aches bloomed in my bones.

And when he was trying not to think about me—which was constantly—the effort created a tension that made my teeth ache.

“Eat something.” Marcus set a tray on the small table by the window. “You’ve barely touched your food since the binding.”

I picked at the sandwich he’d brought, my stomach churning. “Hard to have an appetite when someone else’s emotions are playing ping-pong in your head.”

“It’ll settle. Henrik says the first week is always the worst.”

“Always?” I looked up at him. “How many blood bonds has your pack done?”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “None. But the texts say—”

“The texts.” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Great. So we’re all just winging it.”

“Maya—”

A wave of frustration crashed over me that wasn’t my own. Somewhere in this compound, Jaxon was fighting the same connection that was slowly unraveling my sanity.

I stood abruptly, pacing to the window. “I can feel him. All the time. His anger, his guilt, his—” I stopped, heat flooding my cheeks.

“His what?”

I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit that underneath Jaxon’s hatred was something else entirely. Something that made my pulse race and my skin feel too tight.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

But Marcus was studying my face with beta intuition that missed nothing. “The bond works both ways, Maya. Whatever you’re feeling, he’s feeling it too.”

The thought made my stomach flip. If I could sense his unwanted attraction, then he could feel mine. Every time my treacherous body responded to his presence, every flutter of awareness when he was near—he knew.

“This is a nightmare.”

“It’s survival.” Marcus’s voice gentled. “For both of you.”

That night, I lay in the too-soft bed staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of Jaxon’s location two floors above me. I could feel him pacing, his agitation bleeding through the bond like acid.

Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, phantom sensations drifted through the connection—the slide of fabric against skin, the weight of muscles moving under moonlight, the taste of frustration sharp on my tongue.

Around midnight, his presence shifted. Moving. Coming closer.

My heart started hammering before I heard the first footstep in the hallway.

The door opened without a sound. He slipped inside like smoke, closing it behind him with careful precision. In the darkness, he looked more dangerous than ever—all sharp angles and predatory grace.

“Can’t sleep either?” I sat up, pulling the covers to my chest.

“This is your fault.” His voice was rough, strained. “This connection, this constant—”

“My fault? I was on my f*****g own when you kidnapped me and forced this damn blood bond on me” I shot back. “You think I asked to have your emotions bouncing around in my head like pinballs?”

He moved closer to the bed, his movements jerky with suppressed tension. “I can feel everything you feel. Every breath, every heartbeat, every time you—”

He cut himself off, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Every time I what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Every time you react to me.” The admission came out like a confession torn from his throat. “Every flutter of awareness, every spike of adrenaline when I’m near. I feel all of it.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “That’s not—I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. Not when I can taste it through the bond.”

I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to make myself smaller. “So what do you want? To mock me for it?”

“I want it to stop.” He moved to the window, putting distance between us. “I want to hate you the way you deserve to be hated.”

“Have at it, sir. Go ahead and keep hating me.”

“No.” He turned back to me, and the raw honesty in his face stole my breath. “I hate you. I hate everything about you, everything you represent, every breath you take in my territory.”

“Mmmhmmm”

“But what I hate the most, is the fact that I can’t stop my body from wanting you.” The words came out like a growl, full of self-loathing and frustrated need. “And it’s killing me.”

The air between us crackled with tension. I could feel his hunger through the bond, dark and consuming and completely unwanted. It mixed with my own treacherous attraction, creating a feedback loop that made my skin burn.

“Jaxon—”

“Don’t.” He was across the room in three strides, his hands braced on either side of my head against the headboard. “Don’t say my name like that.”

I looked up at him, trapped between his arms and the wall behind me. This close, I could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes, could smell his scent—pine and leather and something uniquely him.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered.

“Neither do I.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t.” His voice broke on the words. “Don’t you understand? The bond won’t let me stay away. Every minute I’m not near you feels like suffocating.”

I could feel the truth of it through our connection—the constant pull that drew him to me despite his hatred, the way fighting it exhausted him.

“I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

“Jaxon—”

Before I could say another word…he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle or romantic or any of the things first kisses were supposed to be. It was desperate and angry and full of three days’ worth of suppressed need.

His mouth moved against mine like he was trying to devour me, like he could somehow consume the connection between us and make it disappear.

I kissed him back with equal desperation, my hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer.

Through the bond, I could feel his shock at my response, his hunger spiking when I opened my mouth under his.

This was wrong. He was my captor, my enemy, the man who’d admitted he wanted me dead.

But the magic between us didn’t care about logic or self-preservation.