MARKED BY MY ENEMY MATE

Lyra didn't expect the court to feel like a cage—but that morning, every corridor felt narrower than the last.

Whispers still followed her. Not the mocking kind anymore. These were careful. Distant. Like people were beginning to realize she wasn't something to ridicule… she was something to fear.

And nothing made people more dangerous than fear.

She pressed a hand to the mark on her shoulder as she stepped into the council chamber. The burn from the dream had faded, but something in her still tingled—like lightning trapped beneath skin.

Thorne gave her a slight nod from his place near the high seat. Kael wasn't there yet. His absence made her stomach twist. Was he avoiding her after their near-kiss? After the way she'd walked away?

Good. Let him.

She was tired of playing the hunted.

The air shifted as the chamber doors opened again.

Kael entered, flanked by guards in black. But he wasn't alone.

Behind him strode a stranger—tall, dressed in royal red and silver, dark hair swept back like a blade ready to be drawn. His presence was magnetic, sharp, and distinctly dangerous.

Lyra's wolf stirred in her chest the moment his eyes landed on her.

Not with desire.

With warning.

The stranger smiled, slow and deliberate.

"I am Alpha Draven of the Crimson Vale," he said, his voice smooth as wine poured over steel. "I come bearing peace."

"And yet you arrive uninvited," Thorne muttered.

Kael didn't sit. He stood beside his throne, arms crossed, watching Draven like a predator watching another step into his territory.

"State your business," he said coldly.

Draven's eyes never left Lyra.

"In my territory, we cherish those born under rare moons. Those gifted with ancestral blood. Women like her are not hidden or leashed—they are celebrated."

Kael stiffened.

Lyra blinked, suddenly aware that everyone in the room was looking at her. Measuring her. Waiting.

Draven smiled again.

"I've come to extend a diplomatic offer," he continued. "Send her to Crimson Vale. We will give her sanctuary. Education. Safety."

His gaze sharpened.

"Freedom."

Gasps rippled through the council. Kael said nothing.

Lyra stared at Draven. "You know what I am?"

"I know enough," he said gently. "The Moonblood line was hunted, yes. But not forgotten by all. My ancestors served the First Luna. We remember. And we protect what others fear."

Her heart stuttered.

It was the first time someone had offered her choice.

And gods, it was tempting.

But then Kael spoke, voice like thunder rolling through the room.

"She stays."

Draven's brow lifted. "You would rather cage her? Keep her under guard, fearing what she might become?"

"She is under my protection," Kael growled.

Lyra turned sharply. "I don't need your protection."

"You think I'm doing this for you?" Kael snapped. "If he takes you, he owns you. He'll parade you around like a prize and use you until you burn out."

"And you're different how?" she demanded.

The court fell deathly silent.

Kael stepped down from the throne platform, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes burned, not with rage—but with something deeper. Something primal.

He didn't look at Draven when he spoke.

He looked only at her.

"You're mine, Lyra. Not because of a bond. Not because of the mark. But because I chose you. And I'm not handing you over to a wolf with silver words and buried knives."

The air in the chamber thickened.

Lyra's pulse thrummed wildly.

And that's when Draven, bold and unfazed, turned to her and extended a hand.

"Come with me. I will not bind you. I will not claim you. Only give you what you've never been given before—freedom."

Kael growled, low and warning.

Lyra hesitated.

The room spun with tension. Two Alphas. Two choices.

Her own power crackled beneath her skin.

But then she did something no one expected.

She stepped forward—not to take Draven's hand—but to stand between both of them.

"No one owns me," she said clearly, voice ringing through the chamber. "Not you," she said to Kael. "Not him."

She looked at the council.

"I'm done being passed around like a piece on a board. I'll stay. But not because you told me to." Her eyes locked on Kael's. "I stay because this is my fight, too. And I won't run from it."

Kael's breath caught.

Draven inclined his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Then I'll remain as a guest for the night. If she changes her mind, my offer stands."

Kael nodded stiffly. "Fine. But touch her, and you'll leave with fewer limbs."

That night, the court held a formal banquet in Draven's honor.

Lyra wore red silk—the color of her power, her blood, her rage.

Kael didn't like it. But he couldn't look away.

And when Draven asked her to dance, she said yes.

The music was soft, slow. The court watched as she took Draven's hand and stepped onto the marbled floor.

Their dance was poised. Elegant. Diplomatic.

But her eyes…

They never strayed far from Kael.

Kael stood at the edge of the room, jaw clenched, knuckles white around his goblet. His wolf paced inside him, howling.

Jealousy wasn't strong enough a word. Possession burned in his bones.

When the dance ended, he moved.

Not fast. Not furious.

Just inevitable.

He crossed the room, took Lyra's hand without asking, and pulled her close.

One arm wrapped around her waist.

The other slid along her spine.

Their bodies touched.

Their bond flared.

And the next dance?

It wasn't a dance.

It was war in silk and skin.

They didn't speak.

They just moved—together, around each other, against each other.

Breathing the same air.

Burning the same flame.

Kael's voice brushed against her ear, low and rough:

> "You're mine. No matter who tries to claim you."

And for the first time that day, Lyra didn't push him away.

She didn't surrender either.

She just let go.

And they burned the floor with the fire only two wolves chained by fate could ever create.

The music ended, but Kael didn't let go.

His grip on her waist tightened, just slightly. Just enough.

Lyra was keenly aware of every point where their bodies touched—her spine against his palm, the brush of his thigh against hers, the raw electricity in the air between them. Her heartbeat was a wild, erratic drum in her chest.

The hall had gone quiet.

Everyone watched.

But Kael's focus was only on her.

"Careful, Alpha," she whispered, her breath brushing his throat. "People might think you care."

His jaw twitched. "They'd be wrong," he lied.

She smiled. A bitter, beautiful thing.

"You've marked me. Branded me. Guarded me like a beast protects its den… and yet you deny it every chance you get."

He said nothing.

She pushed away—just enough to break the hold, not enough to break the spell—and took a step back.

"I'm not yours to cage," she said, louder this time. "Not tonight."

Her voice echoed through the chamber like a warning.

Like a promise.

She turned and walked off the dance floor, skirts swaying, chin lifted. Kael let her go, but the bond between them tugged like an invisible tether, tight and furious.

Draven watched it all from the shadows near the long table, sipping wine from a silver goblet, his smirk barely restrained.

He didn't stop Lyra as she passed him.

He just spoke quietly, knowing Kael could still hear.

"You'll never own fire," he said. "You either burn with it, or it burns you."

Lyra left the banquet early.

She needed air.

The hallway outside was cool and silent, save for the distant hum of music behind thick stone walls. She leaned against a pillar and closed her eyes.

For a moment, she let herself feel everything.

The weight of being watched. The endless questions about who she was becoming. The terrifying possibility that both Alphas might be right—that she wasn't safe. Not to them. Not to herself.

And worst of all?

The way her body had responded to Kael's touch like it belonged to him. Like the bond wasn't just a tether—but a fire in her blood she couldn't control.

She touched her mark again.

It was warm.

Always warm when he was near.

"Running away again?" Kael's voice came from behind her.

She didn't flinch. Didn't turn.

"I came to breathe."

"You looked fine inside. With him."

She sighed. "Is that what this is now? You getting jealous every time someone treats me like more than a threat?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Liar."

Kael moved closer, until the heat of him hovered against her back.

"I don't want to see you used," he said, low and rough. "Draven's not here because he wants peace. He's here because you're changing. And he knows what that means."

"And you don't?" she asked.

"I know enough to be afraid."

"Afraid of me?" she said, turning at last.

Kael stared down at her, shadows under his eyes.

"No," he said. "Afraid of how much I want you. Even when I know I shouldn't."

Their gazes locked.

And for a breathless moment, the world narrowed to just the space between them.

His lips were inches from hers. His chest rose and fell like a man barely holding back a storm.

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to touch him. To tear down the distance. To see if he tasted like fire and fury and everything she'd been warned against.

But she didn't.

Because if she kissed him now, there'd be no going back.

And despite everything…

She still didn't know if she wanted to belong to him.

Or destroy him.

By morning, Draven was gone.

He left behind only a sealed scroll bearing his crest and a note written in crimson ink.

It was addressed to Lyra.

"You will rise, whether he lets you or not. When you are ready to lead—come find me."

Kael burned the letter before she could finish it.

She watched him do it with calm fury.

"You don't get to decide for me."

"I already have," he said darkly. "Too many people want pieces of you. If you think I'll stand by while you play with threats wrapped in charm, then you don't know me at all."

Lyra's smile was sharp. "No, Kael. I think I know you too well. That's the problem."

And with that, she left him standing in his war room, the last embers of the letter curling into ash at his feet.

That night, Lyra lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She felt the bond tug and pulse. It was different now.

Wilder.

Deeper.

Something had shifted.

Not just in Kael.

In her.

Her skin was hot. Her chest tight. Her senses were too sharp.

She pressed her legs together under the sheets, her breath catching.

No…

No, it couldn't be.

But her body… her wolf…

It was calling.

Burning.

Wanting.

Not just any touch.

His.

She gasped and sat up, heart hammering.

Tomorrow… tomorrow something would change.

She could feel it coming like a storm beneath her skin.

And in the shadows of her room, the Moon whispered:

"The fire beneath your skin will rise. Choose carefully whom you burn with."