MARKED BY MY ENEMY MATE

Kael stood at the head of the war chamber, arms crossed, jaw tight. The scent of iron and old smoke lingered in the air, but the real tension came from the wolves surrounding the blackstone table.

"The girl is a threat," Elder Varek said flatly. "She doesn't belong here. Her wolf… it's unnatural."

"She shouldn't have survived the Trial of Claws," another murmured.

"She didn't survive," Kael said coldly, eyes sharp. "She conquered it."

The room fell silent. Even Thorne, who usually matched Kael word for word, kept quiet.

"She's marked," the Headmistress finally said. "Bound to you. That bond is the only reason some of us haven't voted to have her removed—permanently."

The word removed sent a growl rising in Kael's throat.

"Say the word killed, if that's what you mean," he snapped, his voice low but dangerous. "Don't dance around it like cowards."

No one spoke.

He turned, hands pressed to the stone table. "She is not going anywhere. I don't trust her… but I won't let any of you touch her."

"What if she turns on us?" Varek pushed. "Her wolf isn't like ours. What if it awakens completely and destroys everything we've built?"

Kael's hands tightened. For a moment, even he didn't know how to answer that.

What was she?

He didn't understand her. Didn't know if he'd made a mistake forcing the bond. All he knew was that something inside him refused to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

And he hated how much that terrified him.

Unseen by all of them, in the shadows beyond the war chamber doors, Lyra stood frozen.

She'd come looking for Kael, hoping to demand answers about the recent increase in her guards—but instead, she heard her name spoken like a curse.

A threat.

A mistake.

Her chest burned. Her fingers trembled as she turned and fled down the corridor, ignoring the sting of tears.

Night fell with a cold wind.

Lyra stood alone in the training yard, her body moving through slow, angry strikes against the practice dummies. Sweat clung to her skin. Every punch echoed the words she couldn't forget:

"She doesn't belong."

"She's a threat."

"I don't trust her."

She struck harder.

"Out here sulking again?"

She spun. Kael stood a few feet away, dressed in black, a half-smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm training," she snapped.

"Alone. At night. After overhearing something you shouldn't have."

She flinched.

He walked closer, slow and silent like a predator. "I told them not to touch you."

Lyra's jaw clenched. "You said you don't trust me."

"I don't."

"Then why keep me here?" she growled. "Why protect me? Why—"

"Because I can't let you go!" he snapped, voice raw. "I don't know why. I don't want to want you. But I do."

The air between them cracked with tension.

Lyra's heart pounded as she took a shaky breath. "I'm not your prisoner."

Kael's eyes darkened. "No. But you are mine."

She lunged at him—not with rage, but instinct. She needed to hit something. To release what had been building inside her since the moment he marked her.

Kael met her with equal force.

They clashed, not with claws, but with bare hands and fury. Their bodies moved in sync, each blow more intense than the last. They slammed against each other in the sand, breathing hard, grunting, fists colliding with sweat-slicked skin.

It wasn't a fight.

It was foreplay disguised as combat.

Lyra ducked under his arm and swept his leg. He caught her by the waist, slammed her back against a wooden pillar. She shoved him off, snarling.

"I hate you," she breathed.

"No, you don't," Kael growled, grabbing her wrists and slamming her down to the ground.

He straddled her, pinning her to the earth, his breath ragged, chest heaving. Their faces were inches apart. Her hands twisted under his grip, but she didn't fight to escape.

His mark flared.

So did hers.

The bond surged like fire.

Kael leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers. His voice was raw and broken.

"I should fear you. But I only want you more."

Lyra's breath caught. For one wild second, she thought he might kiss her.

Instead, he cursed under his breath and pulled away—like the touch burned him.

He stood, turned his back to her.

"Get some rest," he said coldly. "Tomorrow will be worse."

Lyra sat up slowly, her skin still tingling from where he touched her.

She watched him walk away into the shadows.

And even though part of her still hated him, the other part—the one tethered to him by that cursed bond—ached with something dangerous.

She wasn't sure what scared her more.

That he wanted her…

Or that she was starting to want him too.

Lyra didn't return to her chamber.

Not right away.

Instead, she climbed the narrow path to the highest balcony of the east tower, the one no one used—too open, too exposed. But tonight, it felt like the only place she could breathe.

The cold wind tangled in her hair as she leaned on the stone railing, staring into the dark woods beyond the court walls. The same cursed woods she had once fled into, broken and rejected. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She touched her mark—the place where Kael had bit her, where the bond still pulsed like a second heartbeat.

She hated what it had done to her. What it was still doing.

The way it pulled her to him when she should want to run.

The way it whispered things in the silence—desire, hunger, need—that didn't feel like hers.

Or maybe they were. And that was worse.

Behind her, a door creaked.

She turned, ready to snap—but it wasn't Kael.

It was Thorne.

He stood at the threshold, his usual smugness absent. "You missed dinner," he said quietly.

"I wasn't hungry."

He nodded, walked slowly toward the railing but kept his distance. "He's afraid," Thorne said after a long silence.

She didn't answer.

"Kael. That's what all of this is about. He doesn't know how to handle you. You're not like the others. You're not just some she-wolf looking for a Luna crown."

Lyra's fingers tightened on the stone. "I don't want a crown."

"No. You want freedom. Power. Answers. And that scares the hell out of everyone."

She turned to him. "Even you?"

Thorne gave a wry smile. "I'm smart enough to fear things I don't understand. But I'm also smart enough not to try caging them."

He studied her face for a moment longer. "Just… don't mistake Kael's fear for hatred. He wants you, Lyra. That's his greatest weakness."

Then he left her alone in the night again, the weight of those words lingering.

Kael didn't sleep either.

He paced his chambers like a wolf gone mad, jaw clenched, fingers dragging through his hair.

Her scent still clung to his skin. Her voice still rang in his ears.

"I hate you."

She didn't.

He knew what hate sounded like. What it felt like. He'd worn it like armor his whole life.

What she felt wasn't hate.

It was heat. Hunger. Frustration.

And it mirrored his own.

He'd sworn to protect the kingdom, to keep the court from chaos. But now chaos slept under his roof, marked by his teeth, haunting his thoughts.

Lyra was dangerous.

But not for the reasons they feared.

She was dangerous because she made him feel.

Like a man. Not just a monster.

And that—more than her wolf, more than her power—was the true threat.

He stopped at the mirror, stared at his reflection.

The Alpha of Nightfang didn't flinch.

But Kael?

Kael wanted the girl who should've died.

And if he wasn't careful… she'd be the one to destroy him.

In the dead of night, Lyra finally slipped back to her room.

She bolted the door, stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes, and collapsed onto the bed without bothering to change.

Sleep came fitfully.

And with it… dreams.

Of fire.

Of blood.

Of Kael.

His lips against her throat, his voice like gravel in the dark:

"You belong to me."

She woke with a gasp, the mark on her neck glowing faintly beneath her skin.

She pressed her hand to it, heart hammering.

Something inside her was changing.

And she couldn't tell anymore if she was becoming something new…

…or something ancient, forgotten, and reborn.