Page 6 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

The revelation left me breathless. My heart rattled in my ribcage, and a rush of heat colored my cheeks as I realized I’d slept with the man who was meant to become my stepson in a week’s time. In the last few years, as the business partnerships and friendship between Magnus and my father had grown, I’d been attending Harvard University, and for whatever reason, my path had never crossed with Stephen.

It was something that seemed excruciatingly unfair, yet again, now that I knew Stephen was my fated mate. How different would things be if we’d only discovered our connection sooner? But maybe it wasn’t too late.

“What if,” I said, “we spoke to our fathers? If they knew we were fated mates, we could still join our packs but with a mate ceremony between us.”

For a fleeting second, a flicker of something crossed Stephen’s features—a tightening around his eyes—but then he shook his head, resolve gritting his voice. “I can’t. The alliance between our packs has already been ratified. I have to prioritize my loyalty to my father and my pack’s interests.”

Shock and fury beat through me—“ratified,” “pack’s interests,” “loyalty to my father”—his coolness reminded me of my father telling me about the arranged mate bond he’d made for me with Magnus.

“Then what was last night?” A wave of anger surged through me, hot and fierce, mingling uneasily with the residual warmth of our shared intimacy. “Was it a lie?”

“No!” Stephen’s rugged features grew taut with frustration. “It was real. But I can’t defy my father, Lina. We can’t be together.”

Anger cloaked me. “Get out!”

“Lina,” he started, but anger fuelled my voice.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

Stephen dragged down his shirt, picked up his leather jacket, and bundled his shoes in his arms. I slammed the door behind him.

Reality crashed down around me, suffocating and relentless. I had held onto hope, clinging to it like a lifeline, but it had been wrenched away. I thought of how amazing it had felt as Stephen had stepped out of the shadows yesterday, confronting those thugs, but really, this feeling of powerlessness against a future I didn’t want had only been interrupted.

Once again, there was no hope.

As I leaned back against the door, my heart hammering, my breathing coming in angry, painful bursts, and my eyes stinging with tears, I realized I was as alone as ever. Within, my wolf let out a sorrowful howl. Stephen’s rejection cut her to the quick, and she curled in upon herself, feeling like she was burrowing deep down, and it would take an eternity for her to surface.

Time had no mercy, and within a week, I walked down the aisle in the grand hall of Blackthorn Villa. My father’s arm felt like a vice, and my heart felt like a stone lodged in my throat. The sound of a string quartet filled the air—each sharp, shrill note slicing through me.

Crystal chandeliers hung like shimmering ice above. Velvet drapes embraced the tall windows, filtering the sunlight into gentle streams that illuminated the lavish floral arrangements peppered throughout the grand room.

Despite telling myself that I wouldn’t, my gaze wandered to the one man who could have changed my wretched fate: Stephen. He stood in the front row, his gaze cold and distant. My throat tightened, and my chest squeezed. How could Stephen be right here—so close and yet so far from me?

Turning and looking to my left, I found my mother’s bright blue eyes, the same shade as my own. She was the one who had kept me together this week. I reminded myself of what she’d uttered in my ear before kissing me goodnight last night, “Just because your mate bond isn’t what you hoped for, doesn’t mean you can’t be a strong and devoted luna to your pack.” With heart-wrenching clarity, I knew that she was talking from personal experience and knew that in time, at least my fate, would bring me a deeper understanding of my mother.

Up at the front of the room, as my father brought me to a standstill beside Magnus Blackthorn, I reminded myself of my mother’s words. My gaze took in the gray-haired man beside me, his cool brown eyes sweeping me with a covetous look that it took everything in me not to retch at. I told myself to be as strong as my mother.

I caught glimpses of familiar faces—my packmate’s smiles were strained, and beneath their false cheer was a pooling look of pity. It was that, paired with not wanting to glimpse Stephen, that had my gaze firmly glued to the officiate, one of the Blackthorn elders, directing the ceremony.

Beyond the elder and outside the windows lay manicured lawns bordered by blooming flowers—red roses, white lilies, and golden daffodils. I blinked past at the blooms—this villa and its grounds for all their refinement felt like something out of a nightmare.

As the officiant began his speech, the words flowed over me like water over a stone, ungraspable and devoid of meaning. My thoughts spiraled as I tried to grapple with the fact that this was really happening. I was about to be mated to Magnus Blackthorn.

Suddenly, a growl broke through my inattention. I turned around, expecting to see a couple of overzealous packmates, perhaps having shifted to howl their excitement. It was not something you’d expect in our high-society world, but maybe they’d been drinking.

You know how weddings can be.

But then, wolves, their coats etched with strange markings, stormed into the huge hall. Screams erupted, and some guests froze in terror, while others—Silvermoons and Blackthorns alike— started to shift, their gray coats the same as the attacking wolves, except for the totem markings the invaders had. My pulse skyrocketed.

Panic consumed the hall as packmates scrambled back from the aisle where the rogue wolves were surging. I watched as my father transformed—fur erupting from skin and bones shifting as he morphed into his wolf. A powerful growl reverberated from him, blending with the rumbles of the rogue wolves and shouts of guests, who frantically edged back against the walls.

I stumbled as fear grasped at my throat. The luxurious wedding hall had devolved into chaos, and I couldn’t help but feel that the foreboding sense that had been blanketing me had been prophetic.

My shock made my reactions sluggish, and I still hadn’t shifted as the rogue wolves surged toward me.

“Lina!” My mother’s frantic call split the air, urging me from my stupor just as a rogue lunged toward me.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the rogue wolf springing at me and Magnus, who I realized hadn’t yet shifted either. But then a silvery wolf leaped in front of us, a blur of sleek, rippling fur and muscle acting as a protective arc. I gasped as he took a vicious hit in his side. My chest squeezed, his overpowering spicy scent telling me exactly who he was: Stephen. His body crashed down in front of me and his father.

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