Page 7 of Falling for My Shifter Enemy

Chloé steps inside, her movements slow and cautious. She runs her fingers along the edge of the bed, her back still to me. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.” The words come out gruffer than I intend, but my wolf is still on edge, pacing in my mind, demanding to be near her.

She stands so close—too close, really—her wide eyes searching mine for something, anything, that makes sense of what’s happening. But there’s no sense to be found here. Not in this. Not in us.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she says again, her voice steady despite the tremble I can see in her fingers. She’s brave, I’ll give her that. Braver than I expected.

I should back away, give her space, but I don’t. Instead, I take another step toward her, closing the already narrow gap between us. Her scent hits me—earthy, warm, with a hint of something sweet. My wolf growls low inside me, pushing me to claim her, to protect her from everything, including herself.

“Not while you’re here,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “Not in my territory.”

Chapter 3

Chloé

I wake up slowly, my body heavy with exhaustion. The unfamiliar ceiling above me takes a moment to process—right, I'm in Theo's flat, in Howling Pines territory. The events of yesterday flood back—the rescue, the tense drive, the way Theo's presence seemed to fill every space he occupied.

Not in my territory, he'd said. And it's true. I feel safe. Last night a meal was brought to me in my room, and I spent fifteen minutes taking a bath before realizing I almost fell asleep in the tub. I quickly got out and went straight to bed.

Now, the mate bond pulses inside me like a second heartbeat, making my skin tingle with awareness. He's close—somewhere in the building—and my wolf knows it, craves it, even as my mind rebels against the pull.

I slide out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cool concrete floor, sending a shiver up my spine. The room is sparse but elegant, like its owner—everything in perfect order, not a thing out of place. It's a stark contrast to my cluttered apartment back home, with its stacks of books and scattered notebooks.

His den. Safe here, my wolf sighs contentedly.

After washing up and changing into the clothes Theo brought last night—jeans and a soft gray sweater that smells faintly of pack laundry—I venture out into the main living area. Theo isn't here, but his presence lingers in every corner, from the precisely arranged furniture to the faint scent of pine and leather that seems embedded in the air.

I smooth down the sweater, trying not to think about how every fiber of my being seems attuned to Theo's proximity. We haven't even talked about it yet—the mate bond thrumming between us. Last night, everything happened so fast: the rescue, the rushed explanations, the tense drive here. But surely he feels it too? The electric awareness, the way my wolf practically purrs whenever he's near?

Maybe today we'll actually talk about what this means. But the thought sends butterflies racing through my stomach. What if I'm wrong? What if this overwhelming pull is one-sided? After all, I'm hardly the kind of mate an Alpha like Theo would choose—I can't even shift.

The silence of the apartment feels heavy with possibility and dread. Every time I hear footsteps in the hallway outside, my heart jumps, thinking it might be him. Thinking this might be the moment we finally acknowledge what's happening between us.

But I'm also terrified of that conversation. Because if he rejects what I'm feeling—if he dismisses this connection—I'm not sure I could bear it. The thought alone makes my wolf whimper, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.

Trying to distract myself from my worries, I decide to explore a little. The living room opens up before me, all clean lines and muted colors. But it's the bookshelf against the far wall that catches my attention. As I approach it, my fingers trailing alongthe spines of leather-bound books, something glints between the volumes—a silver frame tucked away like a secret.

My hands tremble slightly as I carefully pull out the frame. The photograph inside makes my breath catch—it's a family portrait, old and slightly faded at the edges. A younger Theo stands between two adults, his father's stern expression a sharp contrast to his mother's warm smile. The boy in the photo still has softness in his features, none of the hardness that now defines him. His mother's hand rests on his shoulder, protective and gentle, and I wonder what happened to put that wall behind his eyes.

Next to where the frame sat, there's an antique locket, its silver surface etched with intricate wolf designs that catch the morning light. It feels heavy with history when I lift it, the metal warm against my palm. Before I can stop myself, I open it, revealing a tiny photograph inside—the same woman from the family photo, Theo's mother.

"What are you doing?"

The voice behind me makes me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. I whirl around to find Theo standing there, his massive frame filling the doorway. His expression is unreadable, but there's tension in every line of his body. The mate bond flares between us like a live wire, making my skin prickle with awareness.

"I'm sorry," I stammer, carefully placing the locket back exactly where I found it. "I was just—"

"Pack meeting in ten minutes," he cuts me off, his voice clipped and cold. But there's something else there, a flicker of vulnerability quickly masked. "You need to be there."

A new wave of butterflies floods my stomach at his words. A pack meeting—and he wants me there. Despite his cold tone, the invitation itself feels significant. If we really are mates, then technically this could become my pack too. The thought sends an equal mix of hope and terror through me.

Even as a submissive wolf who can't shift, being mate to an Alpha would give me status I've never had before. A chance to belong somewhere, truly belong, instead of always hovering on the edges. But I quickly tamp down that hope. We haven't even discussed the mate bond yet, and here I am, already imagining a future in his pack.

"Should I..." I gesture vaguely at my borrowed clothes, suddenly self-conscious. "Is this okay for a pack meeting?"

His dark eyes sweep over me, and the intensity of his gaze makes my wolf preen despite my nervousness. For a moment, something softens in his expression, but it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"It's fine," he says gruffly, already turning away. "Follow me."

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