Mated To The Enemy

I strode into the cafeteria, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking trays filling the air. Kiyan, my beta, was at my side, his amber eyes glinting with that annoying mischief he never seemed to shake.

We made our way to our usual spot, a table near the tall windows overlooking the east courtyard, where the morning light spilt across the polished wood. It was prime real estate, close enough to the food line but far enough from the chaos of the first-years scrambling for seats.

I dropped into my chair, leaning back with a sigh, already dreading the day.

The air was thick with the scents of baked bread, sweat, and too many wolflings who didn’t yet know how to mask their scents. Norsen’s elite were scattered across the room, laughing, gossiping, pretending they weren’t all here because war and politics had left the world desperate for soldiers.

Kiyan slid into the seat across from me, his grin wider than usual. “You’ve got a new fan girl,” he said under his breath, voice threaded with mischief. “Pretty one too. Shame she’s a little off in the head.”

I looked at him, unamused. “You really need a new hobby.”

He grinned. “I’m serious. She was staring at you during training like she wanted to murder you… or kiss you. Hard to tell which. Either way—hot.”

I shot him a flat look, my fingers drumming against the edge of the table. “That’s your boredom talking, Kiyan.”

He laughed, undeterred, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Come on, man. You should have seen your face out there. She was staring at you like she wanted to burn a hole through your skull. And those eyes—brown hair, hazel eyes, that intensity? Gotta admit, it was something. Plus, she is smoking hot.”

I didn’t answer, not because I was offended. Kiyan’s sense of humor was a daily torment. He had been my beta since I became the crowned prince of Narth at the age of fifteen. I was familiar with his madness; I lived with it, so it wasn’t that. It was because something about what he said caught on.

The image of her flashed, uninvited, in my head, brown hair, hazel eyes that burned too long, too deep. There was something in that gaze I could not unsee. Not just anger, but more like recognition. It wasn’t her weirdness or that cold, piercing gaze that bothered me. It was something else, something deeper.

Her face... those sharp features, the way her eyes seemed to carry a weight I couldn’t place, it reminded me of someone. Someone from a long time ago, a memory I couldn’t quite grasp. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thought. I was reading too much into it, had to be.

Still, it was bothering the hell out of me.

I dropped into my seat, propping an elbow on the table, watching the cafeteria swirl in motion. “You’re imagining things,” I muttered more to myself than to him. “She’s just another student, an insolent wolfling.”

Kiyan shrugged, smug. “Whatever you say, your highness.”

Before I could respond, a familiar scent hit the air, a sharp mix of midnight lilies and honeycomb. A moment later, Seraphine Nightwell, Kiyan’s fated mate, was sliding effortlessly into Kiyan’s lap, her silver hair falling across his chest like moonlight. She kissed him—long, unapologetic, and so indecent that half the cafeteria turned to look.

They stayed kissing like they had not just spent the morning tangled up in his room down the hall. She had just snuck out of his room this morning before dawn. I knew because I had passed her in the hall on my way back from one of the private rooms in the female dorms at the east wing.

“Do you two ever stop?” I asked, my tone dry enough to crack glass.

Kiyan grinned against her mouth. “Not when the gods bless me like this.”

Ugh, they made me sick. Ever since they found each other at the coming-of-age festival for the first year, I have been visually assaulted and forced to watch their love blossom. It was a miracle they didn’t have a litter of baby wolves running around already.

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to the window, where the campus sprawled out under a bright blue sky.

Seraphine laughed, twisting in his lap to face me. “What’s with the face, Draven? You look like someone told you your claws have gone dull.”

Before I could respond, Kiyan jumped in, eager to stir more chaos. “He’s in a mood because of his new fan girl.”

Seraphine perked up, eyes glinting. “A fan girl?”

I snorted, leaning forward. “Don’t listen to him, Sera. He’s full of it.”

Kiyan nodded, looking far too pleased with himself. “Yes, baby, a fan girl. Pretty little thing. Weird as hell though. Caught her staring at him like he hung the moon. I swear, he looked two seconds away from kissing her when I walked in.”

“That’s enough,” I muttered, shooting him a warning look.

Seraphine’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, now I definitely need to hear this.”

I smirked, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables. “Speaking of telling everything, Kiyan,” I said, my tone light but pointed, “how exactly did you notice she was pretty? I thought you only had eyes for Sera.”

Kiyan froze.

I turned my gaze on Seraphine, voice low and teasing. “Are you really going to let him go around staring at other women? I suppose that’s not what loyal mates do, now, is it?”

Seraphine’s expression darkened instantly. “Kiyan? How do you know she’s pretty?”

He groaned. “Oh for—Aklan, you’re the devil.”

Their argument started in seconds—sharp, biting, entirely predictable. I leaned back, crossing my arms, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips as they started bickering. Kiyan tried to backpedal, stammering about how he was just observing, while Seraphine poked his chest, her voice rising. It was almost too easy to shut him up.

Then I heard her voice.