Page 10 of Falling for My Shifter Enemy

The mate bond pulses between us like a living wire, making me hyper aware of every small movement Chloé makes beside me. The slight shift of her leg beneath the table sends electricity crackling through my veins. Her scent—honey and rain—mingles with the aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread until I can barely focus on anything else.

I watch from the head of the table as she pushes food around her plate without really eating, her eyes downcast to avoid the hostile stares from my pack members. The slight tremor in her hands makes my wolf bristle with the need to protect, to comfort, to claim—instincts I ruthlessly suppress. The memory of my mother's broken body flashes through my mind, a stark reminder of what happens when you let love make you weak.

"So, Alpha," Maya's voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with false sweetness. "What's the plan for the full moon run? Moonlit Ridge is getting pretty crowded these days."

I force myself to focus on the conversation, even as my body remains traitorously attuned to Chloé's every breath. "The humans are becoming a problem," I acknowledge, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut. "We'll need to be more careful this time."

"Maybe we should show them exactly why they shouldn't mess with wolf territory," Liam suggests, his young face alight with poorly concealed aggression. The newest addition to my pack, having recently defected from Whispering Pines, is still eager to prove himself.

"And risk exposure?" Derek's calm voice cuts through the murmur of agreement that follows Liam's suggestion. My Beta sits near the other end of the table, his presence a steady counterbalance to the younger wolves' bloodlust. "That would bring more attention, not less."

I feel Chloé tense beside me, her anxiety bleeding through the bond. The mention of humans has her heart racing—another reminder of her vulnerability. My fingers itch to reach for her, to offer comfort, but I clench them around my fork instead. The metal groans beneath my grip.

"What do you think about all this?" Maya asks, her attention suddenly fixed on Chloé. "About running with the pack? Oh wait..." Her smile shows too many teeth. "I forgot. You can't."

The dining room goes deadly quiet. Through the bond, I feel Chloé's hurt and humiliation spike, sharp enough to make my wolf snarl. But before I can respond, she surprises me.

"You're right, I can't shift," she says, her voice soft but steady. The quiet strength in her tone makes something in my chest constrict painfully. "But that doesn't mean I don't understand the importance of protecting pack territory."

"Understanding isn't the same as being useful," Liam chimes in, clearly emboldened by Maya's attack. "What happens when we need everyone at full strength? When every wolf counts?"

The fork in my hand finally snaps. The sound of breaking metal echoes through the suddenly silent room. Chloé jumps slightly, her thigh pressing against mine beneath the table. The contact sends fire racing through my veins, the mate bond singing with a need so fierce it steals my breath.

"That's enough," Derek says, his tone brooking no argument despite his subordinate status. His eyes meet mine across the table, and I see the warning there. I'm letting my control slip.

But how can I maintain control when every fiber of my being screams to defend her, to pull her close, to show everyone that she's mine? The rational part of my brain knows she's vulnerable, knows she's a liability—just like my mother was. But my wolf doesn't care about rationality. It only knows that she's our mate, and she's hurting.

The rest of the meal passes in strained silence, broken only by the clink of silverware and occasional murmured requests to pass dishes. I'm acutely aware of every small movement Chloé makes, every subtle shift that brings her closer to or further from me. The mate bond throbs like an open wound, making each breath a struggle between wanting to pull her closer and needing to push her away.

Later, after everyone has filed out, I remain at the table, staring at my half-empty plate. Chloé's scent lingers in the air, a constant reminder of everything I want but can't have. My skin feels too tight, my wolf pacing restlessly beneath the surface, demanding I go to her. Claim her. Protect her.

But I can't shake the image of my mother, broken and bloody in the snow. I can't forget how helpless I felt, watching her die because she couldn't defend herself. The thought of history repeating itself with Chloé makes me physically ill.

The upcoming full moon looms like a storm on the horizon. Moonlit Ridge isn't safe anymore, but neither is the growing divide in my pack. And Chloé... Chloé is the match threatening to ignite it all.

I push away from the table, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. The sound echoes in the empty room like an accusation. Every step away from her feels like fighting gravity, but I force myself to keep walking. I can't afford to be weak. Not again. Not even for her.

Especially not for her.

???

The moonlight spills through the window, painting shards of silver across the dark room. I lie on my back, muscles coiled tight, staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers to the storm raging inside me. The mate bond pulses relentlessly, a constant, maddening reminder of Chloé’s presence just down the hall. I feel her—restless, awake, her emotions a tangled thread of hurt and exhaustion still raw from dinner.

My wolf stirs beneath my skin, pacing with a restless energy that mirrors my own. It demands action. Claim her. Protect her. Make her ours. The primal urges claw at my control, but I grit my teeth and force them back, knowing the danger in giving in. I’ve spent years mastering restraint, but this bond... it’s a leash I’m not sure I can hold.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the sensations, but it only makes them stronger. Her scent lingers in my memory—warm like honey, fresh like rain, with something uniquely hers that sinks its claws into me, refusing to let go. The ache in my chest deepens, spreading down to my gut, my groin, demanding release.

“Damn it,” I growl, the sound barely more than a rasp in the quiet darkness. My hand fists in the sheets, the cool fabric doing little to chase away the heat building inside me.

The bond tugs harder, drawing out images I shouldn’t be entertaining. Chloé’s eyes, bright with quiet defiance when she faced down Liam. The graceful curve of her neck, exposed as she bent over her plate, trying to pretend their words didn’t cut her. The way her lips part just slightly when she’s lost in thought, as if waiting to be kissed.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But my body betrays me, my hand slipping lower, wrapping around the thick, aching need that’s been building since the moment I saved her. My mind conjures her, here in the darkness with me—those sharp eyes softening with desire, her skin warm and pliant under my hands. She sighs my name, her voice breathy, needy, as I claim her completely.

My movements quicken, the fantasy tightening its grip on me. My wolf growls in satisfaction, urging me on, the bond flaring with white-hot intensity. I can almost feel her—her breath against my neck, her body arching under mine, her soft gasps filling the air. The need to mark her, to claim her, surges through me like wildfire.

When release finally comes, it crashes over me, a brief, blinding wave of pleasure that momentarily drowns everything else. For a second—just one—the world is quiet, and there’s nothing butsensation. No pack politics. No looming threats. No impossible choices.

But then it fades. The pleasure trickles away, leaving only the emptiness behind.

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