Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 18 **

William

It's Friday night, and I'm exhausted from a long day of football practice. Yet I have to be here and pretend to have fun since Dior is turning eighteen in mere hours.

The alpha is holding a grand party at his parent's lake house to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. And when the clock strikes twelve, Dior might lock eyes with someone who turns out to be his mate. Because of this, June forced me to infiltrate his birthday party.

I'm supposed to keep my eyes open and help June plan to kidnap Dior's mate after we know their name. June truly isn't very original, but at least she is plotting something.

I drink some bad-tasting alcohol from my red cup. Yuck, what the heck am I wearing? I'm not too fond of suits.

My eyes linger on my reflection on the glass table. It's strange. I look the same, yet no one recognizes me as the alpha of the Summerburst pack. June had me drink some strange brew made by her witch friend, which will convince everyone I'm some random guy from the Winterbite pack.

Very convenient.

"Hello there."

With boredom filling me up like water, I glance up from my place in the couch's corner. Some brunette is flirting with me, looking me up and down with pure lust in those glimmering eyes. Her hair is cascading down her back. She is beautiful, yet not eye-catching enough for me. Appearances aren't something I care about—I prefer mind over matter, someone able to challenge my way of thinking.

"Hello…" I utter, even though I would rather be anywhere else. I doubt I could ever strike up an interesting conversation with this woman. She is ogling me like I'm a piece of meat, and she is the starving girl next door, ready to gobble me up in one bite.

"Have we met before?" The woman asks. I have never seen her in my entire freaking life. I'm not a people person, although I'm excellent at pretending to be. "My name is Rebecca," she continues. "You seem familiar, which is weird—I would recognize a face like yours."

I'm not kind by nature, but I'm great at acting. I plaster a smile to my lips and turn to face her. The brunette appears all expectant. Her long eyelashes are flickering, and her lips part. She is wearing a skimpy dress and high heels, yet she doesn't have my slightest interest.

"I'm sorry, but I'm here with someone."

I excuse myself, ignoring the brunette's whining as I stand up from the couch. Unfortunately, this Rebecca person doesn't give up. The drunk woman tries to reach for my hand, and I quench my thirst to slam her into a wall the second her fingers stroke my skin. Intimacy frightens me more than darkness and monsters combined, and I clench my jaw.

Control yourself.

I'm not a violent person.

I inhale and exhale as I walk through a corridor filled with partying people from school.

My head is a mess. June has touched me without my permission too many times. She has taken so much of me that the slightest brush from another person can make me see red. I hate my life, and more than anything, I miss having freedom.

Most nights, I can't sleep without turning in my bed. My nightmares are usually disturbing scenes of June drinking my blood and using me as her blood bank without considering my emotions. She drinks. She eats and uses my body for her satisfaction. I'm a living doll in her eyes.

Deep inside, ignoring the mate-bond, I wish June would die.

Some nights I wake up screaming because I remember things June has erased from my memory. I'm always drenched in a cold sweat while June is smiling in her sleep. She usually cuddles up to my side, half-naked with underwear in lace, yet I feel nothing for her.

In truth, I want to run from June and her mind games and black magic, but the mate-bond, which I was forced upon, keeps me by her side against my will.

I continue walking until the door opens and a few more visitors scramble inside. Everything stops, probably even my heart. Jesus Christ! Someone stick me with a sword, end my suffering!

The red-haired witch, my mate, is in the company of Patricia, yet I only have eyes for my little red. I'm done. My brain ceases to function until I'm left standing like a fool behind a group of people, staring straight at the petite woman as she hangs her coat.

Would she see through the spell if I greeted her? I want to know her name and hear her voice again. It's sweet and smooth like honey, like something from a fairy tale.

God, I'm already becoming a victim to the mate-bond. I have to fight it, but it's like standing in quicksand and trying to fly. No self-control in the world could keep my throughs from drifting to my mate.

"It was rather cold outside!" There is a little laugh, and I absorb her smile, try to lock the image into my skull forever. Damn. She is pretty. "I had to put my winter jacket on!"

My mate shudders, awakening a strange urge to give her my jacket. She is so tiny, and her arms look so frail it's mentally exhausting not approaching her. I should warm her up, drape an arm over her shoulder—fuck me! I seriously need to get a grip! I'm so lost in her already.

Patricia agrees with my mate. "Yes, winter is coming."

Little red laughs. It's an addicting sound. "Well, I'm glad we made it here, even if we had to walk through a freaking blizzard."

"I'm sorry I put you through all of this trouble," Patricia sighs heavily as if embarrassed. "It's pathetic of me to crash Dior's birthday party, but I need to find out if I'm mates with the younger Dior too."

"I understand."

Patricia hugs my mate, and sudden jealousy bubbles up to the surface. Never in my entire life have I wished to be another person as much as I do at this moment. Patricia is the luckiest woman alive. I would kill to trade places with her.

"Thanks, Alice."

A brief smile touches my lips—this is bad. Shit. I find out my mate's name is Alice, and now I don't want to walk away. I'm frozen to my spot, enchanted by those freckles splayed over her skin.

She is wearing a cute top that reveals way too much creamy skin. Alice isn't busty, yet I notice another guy looking at her breast. I groan in pain, convinced Alice will be the death of me. I'm already getting territorial with her, and the sad thing is that she doesn't even know my freaking name.

I'm about to walk away from the scene but stop when I notice Patricia's former pack members approaching the girls with menacing faces. It doesn't take a genius to figure out they are up to no good.

I can't see what they are saying—I'm surrounded by too many laughing people and girls trying to chat me up. Without listening to some blonde, I push through the crowd. I'm itching to smack some heads but stop in my tracks when Patricia sucker-punches one of the men.

"Don't fucking touch me, Marcus! I don't remember being told I couldn't come over, and don't you fucking dare to call me a hoe again! And don't you place me in the same category as those girls wishing for Dior to be their mate! I would rather die than see that nightmare come true!"

Alice whistles in amazement and then claps her hands when Marcus is sent flying by a kick delivered to his abdomen. I did not know Patricia knew how to fight and stare at the heaving woman. My jaw is slacking, threatening to fall to the ground.

Marcus is suffering a nosebleed, along with pain in his stomach area. Holy shit. I would not want to piss Patricia off! I stare at the scene, chuckling in amusement, when I notice Dior standing in the room's corner. Judging from the disappointed expression on his face, he heard every hurtful word Patricia uttered.

While I love drama, I'm too tired to stay and watch the scene unfold and turn into something from a television show. I hope Patricia and Dior solve their shit someday, though. They are head-over-heels in love with each other, and the reason they are fighting is that their attraction felt toward the other is through the roof.

I wish I had that kind of fiery passion in my life. Falling in love—isn't that what the poets say we are here for or am I wrong?

I walk away, pausing when I hear a voice so beautiful I swear the woman must be a part angel. My heart clenches with unfathomable pain, and yet all Alice said was one word.

"Wait."

With my pulse pounding against my neck, I take another step but find my legs not wanting to budge when my mate says another word. It seems my heart is competing against my brain. The logical thing would be to leave—it's not smart interacting with my mate. June could hurt her, or worse, kill her if she knew we were mates chosen by the moon goddess.

I should walk away.

But I don't fucking want to.

"Please don't go. Please. I wish to talk with you."

And just like that, I'm not powerful enough to let go. Instead, I turn around to face the person I yearn to touch but can't ever have. Alice is my forbidden fruit.