Mated To The Enemy

“What girl?”

It was soft, lilting, but carried the kind of danger only a certain kind of woman could wield.

Valora Gravesend.

I didn’t need to look to know it was her. The room seemed to shift when she walked in like gravity remembered itself, but I turned anyway, catching sight of her as she sauntered toward us.

Her deep purple corset dress hugged her frame, short in the front to show off her thighs, with a long, dramatic tail trailing behind her. A chain of dark amethysts glinted around her throat. She was a vision, as always, but I wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics today.

She slid into the chair beside me, her dark eyes glinting with that possessive edge she liked to play up, even though she knew exactly what our deal was.

“So, who do I have to kill?” she asked, her voice light but laced with a threat that wasn’t entirely a joke.

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Calm down, Val. It’s nothing.”

Kiyan, ever the instigator, flashed her a sweet smile. “No dark magic on school grounds, Valora. You know the rules.”

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a dangerous smile as she looked at me. “Only if the girls keep their hands to themselves.”

Seraphine rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that I didn’t catch but was probably scathing. The bad blood between her and Valora was no secret, and neither Kiyan nor I ever bothered to wade into that mess.

The murky waters between a powerful Warlock and a Wyseath princess? Definitely not Lycan territory. Even Valora, a powerful warlock that she was, knew better than to mess with a water wolf; the entire realm of shifters knew damn well the Wyseath were not to be trifled with, and Seraphine, sweet as she was, was just as dangerous and powerful, if not more than Valora.

Valora ignored Seraphine, her gaze fixed on me. “Something’s got you puzzled,” she said, her voice softer now, almost concerned. “What is it?”

I shook my head, forcing a casual shrug. “Just stressed.”

“Do you have classes in the next hour?” she asked expectantly.

“No, I don’t, why?” I glanced at my wristwatch.

She studied me for a moment, then leaned closer, her hand brushing my arm knowingly. “I know just the thing to take the edge off.”

Kiyan groaned loudly. “Gods, please don’t.”

Seraphine made a disgusted sound, burying her face in Kiyan’s shoulder. “You two need to get a room.”

Valora smirked, standing and grabbing my wrist as she did. “We’re going to do exactly that.”

As she pulled me to my feet, Kiyan called after us, “Use condoms, please! No warlock-lycan hybrids, please. The last thing this academy needs is a baby with fangs and telekinesis.”

A low laugh escaped me despite myself.

Valora’s nails traced lightly along my arm as she led me toward the doors, her perfume lingering like a spell. I followed, outwardly calm, inwardly detached. She was beautiful, deadly, everything a man should want, should fear—and yet, I felt nothing for her beyond the dull familiarity of comfort and power; she knew it too. I had never lied to her, and our arrangement had always been clear.

Casual sex, great company, solid friendship. No romantic feelings, no wanting more, because that? I could not give.

I didn’t do love, and I was not interested in it. All I needed was a strong, powerful mate who would solidify my claim as heir to the throne, and Valora understood that. Most of the time.

Still, even as she pulled me through the door, her laughter spilling through the corridor, that other face flickered in my mind.

Those hazel eyes.

That impossible intensity.

And the memory of a battlefield long gone cold, where a boy I once called my friend lay dying beneath my hands.

Rivan.

My jaw tightened.

No. It couldn’t be.

I forced the thought away, convincing myself I was imagining the resemblance. Just another student. Just another pretty face with a temper.

But deep down, I knew the truth was circling.

And sooner or later, it was going to land right in front of me.