Page 3 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

A sense of calm washed over me as he wrapped an arm around my waist, taking my weight. I leaned into him, instantly feeling safer than I had in a long time. His scent intensified, a mix of spice and something wild, drawing me closer. My wolf stirred with a low rumble of contentment, a sensation that eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Let’s grab a cab,” he said as his eyes tracked to the end of the road.

I was thrilled that he took it for granted we were going together, but I shook my head. “My motel room’s just there,” I nodded to the building we were coming to.

“Is that right?” Surprise infused his tone, a definite note of curiosity there. I knew he was likely wondering why I was staying in such a dodgy area, but the last thing I wanted to get into was what had brought me here.

I braced myself against him as I rummaged in my coat pocket for my key. It wasn’t until I’d unlocked the door, with the lamplight spilling from the room, that I finally got to sate my curiosity and take in my rescuer properly.

He had a jet-black mane of hair, a strong jaw, and a bronze complexion. But it was his eyes that ensnared me—deep green, like the lush patches of parkland amongst concrete. They pierced me, holding an intensity that made me feel seen in a way I had never known.

His gaze roamed my face, drinking me in just as much as I was him. “Want a hand inside?” he asked.

My heart hammered. I suddenly didn’t have the capacity for speech, so I nodded instead and put my weight on him as he helped me to the bed. As I eased down, my heart was thrumming again as if I were back out on the sidewalk in danger. But it wasn’t thumping in fear anymore. Something warm and exhilarating had encircled it. My rescuer’s scent washed over me again, spicy and earthy, igniting a lick of heat in my belly.

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded, letting go of me and backing up, and I felt a ridiculous sense of loss at losing his touch.

I told myself that this was silly. I needed to get my ankle boots off and then get some sleep. But the boot on my sprained foot proved hard to remove.

As I winced, the man said, “May I?”

My breath hitched. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

He was soon kneeling in front of me, carefully easing off my boot. He surprised me as he didn’t stop at the boot but eased off my sock, too, his hands touching my swollen ankle as he rotated it carefully one way and then the other, watching my reaction for any pain. A thrill shot through me as the pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive skin just above my ankle bone. My skin hummed in response.

I had to school my features as eddies of heat whirled through me from the feel of his palm on my skin.

It’s only your foot he’s touching.

The stray thought set off a cascade of fantasies of my rescuer touching me in different ways.

“It’s not broken,” he announced, his gaze lifting to meet mine. A question lingered in his eyes, and I found the heat pooling in my belly was mirrored in his stare.

He held my gaze for a long moment, the world seeming too narrow for just us. He cupped my heel in his hand, and his thumb ran gently back and forth over my arch. He didn’t look away as the pad of his thumb slid over the top of my foot.

“How does that feel?” he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that resonated deep within me.

“Good,” I whispered, the word feeling like such an understatement for the desire building in me. His touch made my body feel alive, prickling with awareness. I couldn’t help the way my eyes darkened or the hitch in my breath from just his touching my foot.

A smile played on his lips. “Good,” he echoed. He continued to massage the sole of my foot with his thumbs in slow circles.

I took a deep breath and fought for composure. But it was a losing battle. I filled my lungs with his scent, and the longing inside me surged stronger with each gentle stroke of his hands.

In that moment, reality crystallized, and the realization of who he was dawned on me. My body pulsed with recognition, and even deeper, my wolf stirred within me, a primal acknowledgment echoing the truth my mind had just grasped. A thousand unspoken promises lingered between us, awakening the deep longing I had been about to give up on.

Heat flushed over my cheeks as the undeniable truth settled in: this man—my rescuer—was my fated mate. I had found him in downtown New York right when I needed him most. I sensed the ancient spark of something deep in my bones—the assurance that he’d take care of me because I was…his.

His stare remained unwavering, filled with fierce want that made my heart soar and my body tremble, just as his touch caused a moan to slip from me.

His gaze snared on my lips, and he surged forward, claiming my mouth with a heat and thoroughness I’d somehow already known he would. I melted into him, losing myself in the heat and hardness of him. Every nerve in my body suddenly ignited.

Better than whiskey. Better than smoke.

Yet, the spiciness of his scent and taste weren’t entirely dissimilar to those two vices. I’d found the perfect thing to lose myself in.

As his hands traveled up my spine, burrowing into my hair, I moaned into his mouth, suddenly feeling more than I had all night.

He pulled away, and I worried he was going to stop this, especially as I must taste of whiskey, but he surprised me as he said, “I don’t know your name.”

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