Mated To My Hated Enemy

AMELIA.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, tilting my head to the side as I assess myself. Biting my bottom lip, I ponder whether I've chosen the perfect dress for tonight. The lime-colored tulle dress boasts draped asymmetrical cutouts and a statement shoulder, complemented by an open sleeve. Marie, my wolf, insists it's beautiful, assuring me that everyone will be dazzled by it. Still, doubts linger.

The Alpha kids have a way of making me feel inferior, even in a thousand-dollar gown. Though they never express it to my face, their silent judgments are evident. It's written all over their faces. However, I refuse to let it affect me. Despite the doubts, I know I'm rocking this dress, and I'll confidently stride into that room as if I own it. Let them think what they want; tonight, I'm showcasing a different kind of strength—one that doesn't crumble under their unspoken criticisms.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” a warm voice whispers behind me. I glance in the mirror and catch Mom entering my room. Her beautiful blonde hair, a trait I inherited, is elegantly styled with a slick middle-down part and super straight strands. In contrast, my own locks are fashioned in a teased chignon with loose tendrils framing my face. A small smile plays on my lips. Mom always knows just what to say to make me feel better. It must be a mom thing.

"Thank you, Mom," I reply, turning around to face her.

"Gosh, you resemble me so much when I was younger," she remarks, taking my hand in hers. Mom’s gorgeous sky-blue eyes, which I also stole from her, sparkle with adoration.

"I doubt Dad would say the same," I quip.

"That's his business," she chuckles. "C’mon, let’s go. I don’t want your father giving me an earful about how we ladies take forever to get ready." She grabs my hand, and together, we make our way out of the room.

Descending the sweeping staircase, we join Dad at the foot. He doesn’t see Mom and me approaching as he is typing on his phone. Being a billionaire and an Alpha king keeps him busy. He is dressed nicely in a black tux with his raven black hair gelled back.

"Happy birthday, Dad," I greet. He's hitting the big 5-0 today.

"Thank you, baby girl," he responds, pocketing his phone and wrapping his arms around Mom’s waist. Nuzzling into the nape of her neck, he takes a deep inhale, murmuring words against her skin that bring a smile to Mom's face. I feel a tug in my heart watching them. It's been four years since I turned 18, but I still haven’t found my mate. My werewolf college classmates assume it’s because I'm cursed, and with each passing year, I can’t help but fear they might be right especially with my family’s history. I know four years isn’t a lot, but when everyone you grew up with is already mated, you feel like it’s more. But I shouldn’t be thinking about this tonight. It will sour my mood, and I don’t want to ruin the night before it starts. I drive the thoughts away and correct Dad about something.

"Dad! We've had this conversation. You can't keep calling me baby girl. I'm 22 years old now. You should only address me by my name," I assert as we move away from the foot of the stairs, heading towards the ballroom in the castle where Dad’s birthday dinner ball is being held.

"I think I have the right to call you whatever I wish, my dear," he retorts with a smile. I huff and roll my eyes in response.

"Caleb's here," Mom interjects, and I turn around to see my elder brother walking toward us.

"Ready, everyone?" Caleb asks, linking his arms with mine once he reaches us by the ballroom entrance. Caleb is the spitting image of our father, except for his blond hair. The same blue eyes and muscular toned body, along with their shared Alpha king aura that sends everyone trembling.

"Yes," Mom answers and someone inside the ballroom announces our arrival.

The ballroom stands as a hall of magnificence, elegance, and beauty all rolled into one. Crystal chandeliers adorn the ceiling, casting a dazzling glow across the room. Tables and chairs graced every corner, adorned with the finest foods on gleaming plates. Positioned ahead, a band awaited to resume playing the enchanting melody that had accompanied our entrance.

As we make our way through the regal space, heads bow in respectful greeting, acknowledging our presence. My father reciprocates with a gracious expression of gratitude, extending appreciation to all in the room. Once we reach the center, the live band seamlessly resumes playing classical tunes, and the crowd gracefully disperses, creating a sea of conversations and connections. The air is alive with the harmonious blend of music and socialization, creating an atmosphere of grand celebration.

"Where is your mate?" I inquire of Caleb as we walk around the room and away from our parents.

"With her mom," Caleb replies, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter and taking one for me too.

"Is everything all right?" I ask.

“Yes, Aunt Ekaterina just wants to ensure she and the baby are fine before she pops next week.”

“That’s good to hear.” I take a sip of my drink and scan the room. I get a few stares from my peers, but I can’t tell if they approve of what I'm wearing or not, but I don’t care. Some unmated youngling's gaze lingers a little too closely on my chest and thighs. I don’t know if I should be pleased; they think my body is worth staring at or insulted they have the guts to stare at all.

“Anything?” Caleb says, drawing my attention away from the crowd around me.

"Nope," I reply. Caleb is asking if my wolf picked any unique scent that would mean my mate is here. Alphas bring their unmated to these events. I had been really hoping to find my mate tonight, but it seems that won't be the case.

"Don't worry, you will find him soon," Caleb reassures me with a small smile. I respond with a tight-lipped smile of my own and down the remainder of my drink. A peculiar taste lingers in my mouth after finishing the champagne. I stare at the glass, wondering if something was added to it. I don't feel drugged, but the taste is distinctly off.

"Does your drink taste funny?" I inquire, bringing my empty champagne flute to my nose. It smells normal. Hmm.

"No, why do you ask?" Caleb responds, glancing at his half-empty glass. I consider that I might be overthinking things. Maybe the burrito I had for lunch is playing tricks on my taste buds.

"No reason. Let me go to the bar and get a refill. I'll be back," I inform him and start walking away.

"Sure."

As I make my way to the bar, I pass by my peers who are discussing the tardiness of the lycan king. Apparently, he is running late, and some speculate it might be intentional. I tend to agree; everything I've heard about him suggests a strong dislike for tardiness. I wonder why he would be late today. Upon reaching the bar, I place an order for my drink.

"Thank you," I say to the bartender as he hands me a glass of red wine.

I move away from the bar, scanning the room for my brother as I walk. Unable to find him, I head toward the back door to get some fresh air. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the cool night breeze, lifting my glass to take a sip, only for someone to snatch it out of my hand.

"A princess like you shouldn’t drink so much," a male voice says from my right. Recognizing the voice, I roll my eyes and turn to face him. "Hello, Blake."

I scowl, wondering what he wants. He isn't my favorite person in the world, always trying to get into my pants.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me from head to toe. His green eyes linger on my chest, and he licks his lips, making my skin crawl with disgust.

"You look beautiful tonight, princess," another voice says from my left. I was starting to wonder where his identical twin, Jake, had left himself. He was also my least favorite, following in his brother’s footsteps.

"Jake," I spit out, rolling my eyes at him.

"Hello, princess," Jake smiles, running his eyes over my body.

"Goodbye," I grab my drink from Blake's hand, but he doesn’t let go, causing my drink to spill on my dress.

"Shit! See what you've done!" I curse, anger building in my chest as I look at my ruined dress.

"C’mon now, princess, we didn’t mean for this to happen," Jake says, rubbing his hand on my chest in a foolish attempt to clean the stain but using it as an opportunity to touch me.

"Get your filthy hand off," I slap his hand away, glaring at him. "Don't you dare touch me again."

"Ouch, princess. He only wanted to help," Jake says, and I just roll my eyes at them, walking away before I do something I'll regret. They always caused trouble when I saw them, and now, because of them, I had to change my beautiful dress. I look at the stained fabric as I walk back upstairs, sighing. Good thing I had two dresses picked out for tonight.

"Careful there, love," someone says, causing me to lift my eyes, realizing I was about to bump into them. My nose catches the strong smell of a lycan, but that's not what leaves me in a daze. The handsome lycan that just spoke in a British accent with blond hair and strands fanning his face is smiling down at me. As he pushes the hair back, revealing his greyish-blue eyes, I watch, transfixed.

"Miss?" he says, waving his hand across my face.

I blink, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay, dear," he replies, still smiling. I have to say he has such a lovely smile.

"Okay, bye," I say, attempting to run away from him but missing my footing. I teeter dangerously close to falling, but he catches me before I hit the ground.

His warm arms envelop my waist, holding me firmly against him. "You need to be careful, love," he says, his breath brushing my face, sending warmth through me.

“T-T-Thank you,” I stammer, still trying to wrap my head around how I fit perfectly against his chest.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, still holding me in his arms, staring into my eyes. The air around us becomes thick with tension as I continue to remain in his arms, gazing back into his grayish-blue eyes. They reflect the smile I bet is grazing his lips right now.

“Princess, don’t go like that. We didn’t mean…” I hear Jake's voice trailing off as he runs toward us, but he stops short once he sees us. Realizing the position I'm in, I quickly pull away from the lycan.

“Eric,” Blake says, eye-widening upon seeing the lycan. Eric? Is that his name and do they know him, but how?

“Did you do this?” The lycan asks, pointing at the wine stain on my chest. The twins shake their heads, but Eric arches a brow at them. In the blink of an eye, they admit the truth.

“Love, I think I'll see you later. The boys and I need to chat,” Eric says, unwrapping his hand from my waist and walking toward the twins. In another blink, he grabs them, and they're all gone.

“Chat? What are you talking about?” I ask, spinning around, searching for where they went but can’t seem to figure it out. It feels like they just disappeared into thin air.

I remain frozen, confused by what just happened in the last few seconds—the intense encounter with the lycan and his peculiar reaction to the twins spilling wine on my dress. I don't know what's odder, but neither scenario makes sense. A thought roams my head wondering if he could have been my mate and that’s why I felt so comfortable in his arms, but Marie didn’t respond at all to his scent or being close to him. Hmm? I don’t think he is then. Deciding to leave it for now, I head to my room to change.

AMELIA.

"Done!" I exclaim into the wall of my room, grinning at my phone while letting my feet dangle in the air as I lie on my stomach. I've just finished the latest book in the Lord series by Shantel Tessier. When I came up to my room, I received a notification about its release and couldn't resist taking a peek, only to end up reading the whole thing.

Checking the time on the clock on my nightstand, my eyes widen. I didn't realize so much time had passed while I was engrossed in the story. Hastily, I shoot out of bed, heading to my closet to change. I hope the party isn't already over.

I slip into a colorful flowing line of embroidery, a strapless pink tulle dress with a twisted, draped bust. Stepping out of the closet, I check my phone for any missed calls from my family, and to my utmost surprise, there are none. I've been gone for a while, so I'm a little shocked they haven't called asking where I was. I try Caleb's cell to ask him how the party is going, but it goes straight to voicemail. Attempting a mind-link, I get no response. Maybe he's busy with his mate or something and has closed his link, not wanting to be disturbed. I quickly put on my shoes and head to the ballroom, praying that Dad and Mom won't have my head for disappearing for so long.

As I make my way to the ballroom, an intoxicating scent assaults my senses, a potent blend of earthy notes that transport me to the heart of the rainforest. It's unlike anything I've ever smelled, so much so that it immediately triggers Marie, my wolf, to open our connection.

“Oh heavens, it’s happening,” she exclaims, her excitement mirroring my own.

"Do you truly believe he's here?" I inquire, a surge of anticipation pulsating through my veins, urging me to hasten my steps. The prospect of discovering his identity sparks my curiosity – is he the son of an Alpha, or could he be an Alpha himself? The excitement building within me threatens to overflow.

"Yes, it's becoming more potent, Amelia. Pick up the pace," Marie urges, seizing control and guiding me forward.

"Finally," I breathe with a mixture of relief and excitement as I swing the door open to the ballroom.

A guttural scream tears through me the moment I swing the door open. Time stands still as I freeze, my gaze fixated on the floor transformed into a morbid canvas of crimson. The edge of my dress swiftly becomes saturated, the sheer volume of blood evident everywhere. Oh, Heavens! What in the world is happening? The shock courses through me, a surreal disconnection between the blissful anticipation of finding my mate and the horrifying reality before my eyes.

I can't fathom how I missed the smell of blood on my way over. But how could I have? My senses were ensnared by the alluring fragrance of my mate, leaving me oblivious to the pervasive stench of blood saturating the ballroom.

"Amelia, run, get out of here!" Dad's desperate scream forces my gaze upward. The scene that unfolds is a nightmare etched in crimson – a sea of loans with their bodies adorned with the damning evidence of blood. My heart sinks as I hazard a guess that some of that blood belongs to the werewolves strewn across the floor. Yet, that is only the surface of the horror.

A lycan, distinguishable among the blood-soaked crowd, drives his claws into Dad's chest with lethal intent, aiming for his heart. But this isn't just any lycan; it's my...

"Mate," Marie and I utter in unison, our eyes widening at the shocking truth. The weight of the revelation hangs heavily in the air.

"Run, Amelia, run," Dad pleads once more, his voice a desperate echo.

My mate turns away from my father, his eyes lock onto mine. The anger in his gaze is unlike anything I've ever witnessed, sending a shiver down my spine. My hair stands on end as he leisurely digs his claws deeper, savoring the gruesome act of extracting my father's heart.

My own heart clenches in my chest, disbelief and horror intertwining within me. This can't be happening – my mate is killing my father, the very person I've been yearning for all these years. In this harrowing moment, the belief that I am cursed takes root within me. Tears well up, blurring my vision, but now is not the time for despair.

I shake my head, pushing the tears back. This is the moment to act, to save my father, even if it means confronting and hurting the very mate I've been longing for. Ignore the conflicting emotions within me, and with a steely mind, I take decisive action.

“No!” Marie's agonized scream echoes through my head as I swiftly transform into my white wolf, leaping through the air and charging at my mate. In a sudden, jarring halt, I crash to the ground, creating a deep dent in the marble floor of the ballroom, whimpering in searing pain. I don't need to be told to realize that a witch must be manipulating my fate, halting the flow of my blood to my heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, I revert to my human form, disregarding the vulnerability of my nakedness in the presence of lycans. The urgency to save my father eclipses any concern for modesty. My instincts kick in, and I snatch a nearby tablecloth, sending cups and plates crashing to the ground as I hastily wrap it around my body.

I pant, facing my mate, chest heaving with rapid breaths. Tremors course through my body as I lock eyes with him. The weight of the impending actions I am about to take hangs heavily in the air, but there's no choice – I'm outnumbered, and saving my father demands drastic measures.

With a determined resolve, I prepare myself for the unthinkable, knowing it's the only recourse to save my father in this dire moment.

"Please, stop!" I cry out, collapsing to my knees. The gasp that ripples through the room is ignored; nothing eclipses the urgency of saving my father, not even my pride and honor as a princess.

"I command you to stand this minute, Amelia! Never kneel for the enemy!" Dad yells, but I remain steadfast, ignoring him.

"Please," I beg again, bowing my head in submission. I clench my fists, forcing my body to hold its position. My own claws dig into my skin, blood trickling down to the floor. I notice severed heads around me and a vast pool of blood beneath my knees – hearts ripped out of chests, some drained pale. The gruesome sight overwhelms me, and I can't hold back the wave of nausea that rises, expelling my dinner onto the blood-decorated floor. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, lifting my head to meet the gaze of my mate. I wish I hadn't, for in the blink of an eye, I'm lifted off the ground, the back of my head colliding with a wall as my mate presses me into it, hands tightening around my neck.

My eyes widen in terror as the stark reality sets in – he's choking me. Unbelievably, my own mate is laying hands on me, attempting to end my life. The struggle for breath intensifies, and panic takes hold as I grapple with the realization that the one I had longed for has turned into a threat, and I am fighting for my own survival.

With adrenaline surging through me, I hastily position my hand above his, attempting to pry his fingers away as my legs kick desperately in the air. I feel sparks as our skin touches, but I couldn't care less because, in a matter of seconds, he would choke me to death.

"Another one," he snarls in a thick British accent, his eyes ablaze with hatred. My heart clenches at the realization that it must have been one of my people, or worse, my mother, lying unconscious beside my brother. The weight of the loss crashes over me, and my lower lip quivers as I begin to sob. I can't comprehend that they are gone too.

I tear my eyes away from the gruesome scene around me, the pressure around my neck escalating. Desperation fuels my struggle to free myself, nails digging into his hands in a futile attempt to loosen the grip, even if it means drawing blood. His hands remain unyielding, a vise around my throat. With each passing second, my access to air diminishes, and my lungs plead for oxygen. The struggle for breath is becoming more desperate by the moment.

Determined to find a way out, I decide to appeal to the mate bond. Locking eyes with him, I plead silently, hoping the connection between us will stir some compassion. Instead, the opposite occurs. I feel my soul slowly slipping away, the veins on my face threatening to burst at any moment.

“You could have looked like anyone else,” he seethes, tightening his grip with knuckles whitening further. “Any fucking one.” The pressure intensifies, my face growing paler. It's unfathomable that my mate, the one bound to me by fate, is on the brink of taking my life. “Why the fuck did it have to be you with this face?” he roars, releasing his grip abruptly, flinging me across the room.

My body collides with chairs and tables, the impact shattering them in my chaotic descent. A thud resonates as I finally land, every inch of my body aching and blistered from the force of the throw. Blood fills my lungs, and I involuntarily spit it out, coughing violently over the blood-stained floor. Gasping for air, I wipe my mouth clean and glance up, only to see him approaching with an unrestrained fury that causes the ground to vibrate beneath his forceful strides. The sight sends a shiver down my spine. The rattling of chairs and tables echoes the intensity of his rage. Panic sets in, and my survival instincts kick in. I scramble to find anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon, fully aware that I can't shift and unmasking my scent would jeopardize my safety. In this moment of dire vulnerability, I cling to the hope that a weapon will provide the defense I need.

With great effort, I spot a plank of wood nearby and start to crawl toward it, the blood-slicked floor making every movement challenging. Despite the difficulty, I inch forward, determined to reach the potential makeshift weapon. However, before I can grasp it, Nickolas intercepts me. My fingers barely brush the plank as he seizes me by the back of my neck, lifting me off the ground. Panic sets in, and I struggle in his grip, screaming for him to release me.

The desperate pleas pause as the unmistakable sounds of crashing waves fill the air. A sudden realization strikes – a witch is teleporting here.

My mate releases his grip, and I plummet to the ground with a resounding thud. Agony courses through my body as I bite down on my bottom lip, attempting to stifle the pain. Amid the suffering, a chilling realization seizes me, draining all color from my face. Only one witch could be teleporting right now.

"Go back!" I scream desperately at Alissa, Caleb's mate and my best friend, a half-witch and werewolf. She must have felt the anguish of her mate's death and rushed to our location. However, my plea comes too late, and Alissa materializes.

"Caleb!" she screams, rushing to his side on the ground. I catch a glimpse from my peripheral vision of my mate sprinting towards them, and I unleash the loudest scream of my life.

"Alissa, shield now!" The urgency in my voice resonates through the room, my throat burning as the words echo loudly. Confusion etches Alissa's face as her eyes dart to me, but she reacts swiftly upon seeing my mate dangerously close to grabbing her. Instantly, she erects a transparent shield around herself, my brother, and my parents. The impact sends my mate hurtling backward, crashing into chairs and tables with each contact. The room vibrates with the force of the collision.

A breath of relief escapes my lips, imagining the catastrophic outcome if Alissa hadn't reacted swiftly enough to shield herself from my mate. The haunting thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I forcefully shake it away, unwilling to dwell on the grim possibilities.

“What’s going on?” Alissa asks, her horrified eyes scanning the gruesome scene around her.

“It appears the lycan lied to us. They never wanted peace between our kinds. They just needed a way to enter the castle without being stopped. You need to leave now! Please leave,” It didn't take me long to put two and two together.

“I can’t leave you,” she responds, her voice laden with emotion, as my mate relentlessly pounds on the shield surrounding her.

“I will be fine. He’s my mate,” I assure her, only to be interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing that expels blood, my ribs aching in pain.

Alissa's eyes widen in terror. “No!”

“I will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“He looks like he will kill you, Amelia. Come closer so we can go together.”

“I can’t. Once you take down that shield, we both know what’s gonna happen. Leave now before he breaks the shield. You’re not strong enough to hold on for long. Leave!” I scream, witnessing the shield around her rattle as my mate continues to assault it relentlessly.

“I will come back for you, Amelia. Wait for me,” Alissa says, tears streaming down her face. She creates a portal and pulls my brother through it, returning for my father and mother. Returning one last time, she says, “Wait for me,” and then closes the portal.

An earth-shattering growl, unimaginable for a lycan, erupts through the room, almost cracking the walls. I press my palm into the ground to steady myself. Lifting my eyes, I lock them with those of my mate, the source of the primal growl. He stares at me, panting hard, his eyes burning into my very soul. I don't dare to test if the mate bond could quell his rage, and I begin to crawl away, holding my stomach, knowing escape is my only chance at survival.

My escape attempt fails miserably as my mate seizes me by the hair, his fingers tight and unyielding as he lifts me off the ground. Pain shoots through my scalp as he turns me to face him, his grip intensifying. I flinch at the overwhelming rage emanating from him. In this proximity, I can take in his features without the threat of imminent danger.

His emerald-colored eyes, filled with fury, captivate me, revealing a breathtaking beauty beneath the rage. Long, full lashes fan his face. His features are meticulously shaped – a straight nose full and perfectly arched brows. He appears to be in his late thirties or early forties. Despite the fury and brutality, there's no denying the undeniable truth – he is the most handsome man I had ever laid my eyes on.

“You will pay for that, bitch,” he seethes.

"I'm not sorry," I defiantly spit out.

"You will be," he vows, and with a sudden, brutal twist of my neck, sends me into unconsciousness.