Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 9 **

Patricia

The diner is old school with red booths and posters of classic cars on the walls. There is a neon sign outside, glowing from its height, and everyone working here is confident. There is a certain swag and shake to the hips as a waitress comes up to our table. I like it.

"Are you ready to order?" The lady is standing there, smiling while holding up a sketchbook rather than an Ipad.

"Yes," Dior flashes a killer smile, and I roll my eyes at the blush growing on the woman's cheeks. "I would like to have the bacon and eggs and a large cola. Oh, and with a side of fries."

"Lovely," The woman, who must be more than twenty years older than Dior, has been reduced to a giggling mess. "And what does your friend like to order?"

I glance up from my menu, smiling. "I want the strawberry and cream waffles with a mango smoothie."

"Excellent," The lady let her eyes roam over Dior appreciatingly before she forces herself to stop checking him out. "Your order will be ready in about ten minutes."

Dior smiles and then turns to me. I study him in silence, and he lifts an eyebrow to question me.

"What?"

I return to the menu, pretending to study it. "Nothing-..."

My train of thought gets interrupted by a group of men sneering and laughing among themselves. When I turn around in my booth, I see three tall vampires snickering at a short woman.

"Don't look at them," Dior mumbles. "Unless you want to gain their attention and get killed."

I know I should listen to Dior, but I don't like bullying. The group of men is all clad in leather and dark clothes. Their hair is gothic and blonde, and streaks of black makeup are around their eyes.

"Nice glasses."

The tallest guy steps forward, taking the girl's glasses, and the two other vampires elbow each other. The girl looks miserable, and her lips quiver as she lifts her chin to look at her bully. She is even shorter than me, with freckles and red hair.

"Jonathan," The girl says. "Please stop this—it's not funny!"

"Oh, Alice," The man is taunting her. "If you want this to stop, then all you need to do is offer me your witch services."

Dior growls lowly. "We should stay clear of them all. Vampires are dangerous, but witches can be even more problematic."

I'm not listening to Dior. I witness the girl say something like, "fuck off," and the vampire lifts his hand, ready to claw her. His eyes are burning with rage, but he isn't the only one with anger issues. My blood is boiling the minute I realize he will hurt her.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HER!"

I throw myself at the vampire, who turns around with lightning speed. My knuckle connects with his cheek, but my opponent is faster. He grabs my hand, and then I'm pinned by his arm and brought over to his chest. His chin rests on my head while my back is pressed to his hard body. A sharp inhale got him laughing, and fear trickles down my spine.

"A rogue!" The vampire announces. "How delightful—I've been looking for a new plaything!"

My heart hammers in my chest when the man leans forward to lick my neck. I try to get out of his arms, but it's like fighting a mountain. Werewolves are naturally more muscular than the bloodsuckers; this one, however, isn't your regular around-the-street vampire.

The vampire presses his nose to my skin. "You even smell nice."

"Let me go!" I grumble.

"No way! You're too sweet!"

I've always feared vampires, and I hate how I'm already being diminished to nothing. Shudders are running loose over my skin, and for a brief second, I regret leaving my pack.

"Damn you, Patty—couldn't you have waited until after we had eaten before stepping into trouble again?"

I glance up, shocked at finding Dior observing the vampire. He looks a bit tired like the scene bores him to death. My captor doesn't share Dior's laidback attitude and raises his hackles. He hisses at the werewolf, who tilts his head in response.

"Woah, relax, Dracula," Dior lifts his hands in mock surrender. "I won't hurt you if you let go of my friend here. You see, Patty has saved my life more than twice, and I owe her."

The vampire sniffs the air. "You don't smell like a rogue—you stink like an alpha! Why would you care about someone who isn't part of your pack?!"

Dior smiles. "Because we are more than wolves, we are people too."

I stare up at Dior, and then the vampire hisses a second time, leading to his henchmen jumping at Dior. The alpha doesn't seem to mind. With ease, Dior dances out of their way until he decides to end the fun by grabbing one vampire's head and knocking it into another. I then witness him kneeing one of them in the stomach and gape when Dior is standing there, victorious.

Shit, he is strong.

I've never fancied the princesses getting their lives saved by men in shining armor, yet I have to admit I'm touched by Dior coming to my aid without hesitation.

He is still a jackass, though.

"Who are you?" The vampire breathes and steps away with me towards the door as Dior approaches us. "I haven't heard of this diner being on werewolf grounds!"

"Oh, this territory is yours," Dior smiles sheepishly. "But I don't appreciate the way you're treating my friend, so like I said before, release her, and I won't hurt you."

The vampire studies the floor then inhales before pushing me forward into Dior's chest. Large hands fall upon my shoulders at the same time the door to the diner jingles. The vampire leaves and blood gushes into my ears—I'm too aware of the proximity I share with Dior.

"Are you okay?" Dior asks, scanning me for injuries with a hard-to-read expression.

"I'm fine," I step away from him, aware of the two other vampires sneaking out behind us. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I reluctantly mutter. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With my cheeks burning in humiliation from having been saved by my enemy, I look up at Dior. He smiles at me, and I forget about the world. I relish the view of his soft lips and the dimples on his face, staring at him in wonder until the witch clears her throat.

I turn around.

"Thank you for the help," The witch says, eyeing me with suspicion written all over her face. "I've never met a friendly werewolf before."

Dior opens his mouth. "Well, maybe we aren't all the same-..."

"I wasn't talking to you," The girl interrupts Dior, drilling her eyes into his with a fierce grimace. "You only came to save your girlfriend, but you-..." She turns to me, smiling. "You genuinely cared about me not getting hurt."

Smiling, I shrug. "What can I say? I hate bullies."

The witch nods and offers me her hand. "My name is Alice."

I take her hand. "Patricia."

An insight of déjà vu hits me, and judging by the slight widening of Alice's eyes, she must have felt it too.

Her lips lift higher. "Interesting. It seems we were supposed to meet each other—destiny is a funny thing. I've been trying to make sense of what the future holds for the past thirty years."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Wait... Thirty years? But aren't you like sixteen or something?"

Alice smiles, releasing my hand. "A few years ago, I accidentally threw a curse on myself never to age unless I meet my soulmate," her eyes turn sad, and her voice grows softer. "As you can see, I haven't found that special person yet."

I smile back. "If it's any comfort, I haven't met my mate either."

Alice appears confused. She throws a glance at Dior and then blinks at me multiple times.

"But I thought-..."

Alice thought Dior was my mate?!

"Not a chance in hell!" Anger spikes the hair on my back and turns my body tense and rigid like iron. "Dior and I hate each other!"

Alice widens her striking green eyes and peers up at Dior, and then she giggles to herself. "Right," She then nods ahead, making us turn to the waitress putting down our plates. "Your food is ready... And I guess I will see the two of you around?"

I watch Alice walk out of the diner, rolling my eyes when Dior's presence makes itself noticed. He is towering over me, invading my bubble, and I crane my neck to glare up at him.

"What is it?" My mouth tastes like venom, and my tone comes out more toxic than intended. "You're hovering..."

I expect my life sworn enemy to be angry, say something about how I mentioned our bitter emotions for each other.

But it never comes.

Dior reaches out his hand, causing my heart to stop. His lips are pouty and beautiful. I stare at them, forgetting my hatred for him as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes.

He smiles softly. "Let's eat our food."

Shocked, I follow Dior to our table. He digs into his food without a word, and I do the same. The air feels different. Dior appears more thoughtful, sending me glances now and then.

Eventually, he speaks. "Why exactly do you hate me so much?"

I snort before realizing Dior is serious. Shit. Is he that clueless? I take a deep breath, sorting out the reasons.

"You have called me shallow for years, been inside my head, and made fun of my every thought. You've thrown paper planes my way and made fun of the way I dress."

"Is that all?"

"No, you called me plus-sized yesterday, which made everyone think the same thing. Also, you spread to everyone at school that I watch anime, which led to people calling me a weeb. Not to mention your entire pack started to bully me, pick up on the nicknames you used because they thought it would make them cool in your eyes."

"Oh, I'm-..."

"My mother kicked me out because you don't allow anyone to shelter strays, and I'm not ever joining the pack again because if I catch a bunny during our hunting session, the others will take it from me since bullying the omega is cool. I also still remember how you allowed Marcus to pee on me that one night."

Dior gapes at me, furrowing his eyebrows. "I let Marcus do what?"

I lift an eyebrow. "Marcus tackled me to the ground two weeks ago with Gloria, Riley, Julian, and Philip. They claimed they had your permission to show what it means to be an omega, and they-..."

Humiliation burns my cheeks, and I bite my lower lip to keep the tears from overwhelming me. I'm not sad—whenever I'm pissed off, I'm also at the brink of tears. And right now, I'm furious and hurt.

"Marcus peed on my face and claimed it was how the omega wolf is marked. He said it was your idea and that you had said I was worth nothing—how could you do that to me?"

With teary eyes, I blink up into Dior's widened eyes. My heart is hammering too fast, and the world is spinning. Why does the beautiful man named Dior have to possess such an ugly heart? I hate how attracted I am to him.

"I had nothing to do with what Marcus did to you."

Dior places a hand over mine. It is a weird gesture, and I stare at him with suspicious eyes, not convinced one bit that he suddenly turned good from spending a few hours with me.

"I'm not sure if I believe you," I whisper and withdraw my hand. I'm aching on the inside and trying hard to concentrate on the present. "Let's eat. I don't want to focus on the past."

Dior's lips twitch as if he wants to smile. Unfortunately, I think he is too conflicted to make a happy face. "I'm sorry for calling you a plus-size—it wasn't nice of me. I also regret putting that flying doll inside your locker, hanging a water balloon above your seat, and that one time I put a pie on your chair."

I snort in bitterness. "You've caused me a lot of pain, Dior, and I don't think I will ever get over it, but today we have called a truce. Therefore, I will refrain from calling you an asshole."

His lips quirk up into a smile. "Alright, I have to give you points for that one—you're very clever."

Regardless of not wanting to, I laugh. "For calling you the a-word without directly saying it?"

Dior nods. "Very clever," his eyes then gaze deeply into mine, and his confident smile returns. "I turn eighteen on Saturday, and while I doubt you're my mate, it certainly would be interesting if you were."

"You're right—I'm not your mate." I laugh. "Knowing the moon goddess, she will probably pair you up with someone like Riley."

Dior studies me for a second, then returns to his food, smiling in this mysterious way. "Who knows."