Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 22 **

Patricia

June is crushing my throat, and my eyesight momentarily darkens while my palms are pressing against her arms. Dior is fighting the entire Summerburst pack in the background, meaning no one can save me from the smirking woman before me.

There is a menacing laugh, and then June bends closer, leering at me as if she has already won. "You're weak, Patricia. A rogue can't defeat someone like me."

I absorb June's features, gaze deeply into her eyes. She is beautiful, but her lips are cruel.

And she is strong.

How do I beat her?

I'm not as powerful as her.

Then again, I've never let that stop me before. I never bowed down to my alpha regardless of Dior's authority, and I'm not about to let that change. I listen to no one—I'm a fighter who creates her path, and I will not surrender.

I breathe in and out, letting fear overwhelm me yet not destroy me. Because being brave means being afraid but not allowing ourselves to be controlled by it.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I ask myself who I am twice before concluding that I'm a werewolf—I can put up a hell of a fight!

With determination bubbling up within me, I shape-shift into a wolf, shocking June, whose hands are no longer big enough to hold me. I slip down on the ground, then immediately tackle her. She avoids my attack and tries to punch me, but I wasn't born yesterday.

I jump out of the way, then lower my head with a snarl vibrating through my throat. Omega, alpha, luna, rogue—who the hell cares about my ranking?! All I want is to survive! I'm a warrior at heart, and finally, finally, I'm one with my wolf! We both agree that June is our enemy, and she needs to go!

My jaws tingle with the desire to bite and maul my opponent. I lunge for her, biting into her skin before I'm kicked in the stomach. A whimper slips out through my mouth, yet I'm far from giving up.

"Fucking mutt!" June is yelling at me. "How dare you bite me?!"

June is sizing me up, hissing at me from under a tree. She looks like something angelic possessed by a demon, and I glance around, noticing that the white beast is behind me, growling at June.

It seems the Summerburst pack is limping or whimpering instead of attacking us. All members aren't here to join the fight because this can't possibly be every pack member within their clan. And because they are so few, Dior and I can defeat them. Together.

June seems to share my thoughts. She hisses again before nodding at her pack members, permitting them to leave the Winterbite territory.

"I will fucking murder you..." June is seething, digging her eyes into mine while she is shaking in rage. "You're a mutt and nothing else!"

Pride swells inside my chest when I spot the wound on June's arm—I got a good chunk of her.

"There is no way we can take on that monster wolf, June," William spits on the ground. He is injured, yet his expression is apologetic as if he regrets attacking anyone in the first place. "We should leave the Winterbite territory before their backup arrives."

June narrows her eyes, looking directly at me. "We will meet again, little wolf. And next time, I will come better prepared," she smirks underneath the moonlight. "You haven't seen me at my full strength yet."

The hybrid woman disappears into the forest with lightning speed, followed by her pack members. I glare after them and only lift my head when I notice the sky is changing. The moonlight spell is vanishing, leaving clouds in its wake.

I observe the female clothes hanging from a tree branch until I hear what sounds like cracking bones and muffled screaming. My curiosity perks up but is replaced with concern when I see the white beast changing into Dior.

Big paws with claws are replaced with hands, and white fur turns into flawless skin. Dior appears to be in severe pain, and I suspect he is barely even conscious. I hurriedly pick clothes from a nearby tree, placed there by the Winterbite pack, and then rush forward in concern.

I slide down on my knees in front of Dior, but the second I touch him, I know it's a mistake. Lightning surges in the air, drawing tight. A melody singing about lost and found lovers travels through my mind, and Dior's gaze turns intense, his attention never wavering from mine. In that instant, I feel it, the mate-bond loud and clear. Suddenly, it's as if I've known Dior for my entire existence and like I've been waiting for this moment for my whole life.

Every muscle pinch with the urge to lean in, touch him, circle my arms around him and rest my forehead against his. I see that same yearning reflected in his blue eyes, and it frightens me. Blood rushes into my ears, my pulse against my neck thudding like a warning drum.

The mate-bond might be there between us, making me experience the magic that wasn't there moments ago, but I'm also aware that I was the same mess around the older Dior. And as soon as I remember that, our night together enters my mind, and I stand there heaving.

Fuck.

I'm torn.

And when Dior blinks and sucks in a deep breath, I'm able to place down my walls again, return from dreamland. My head clears, and the hatred is back, yet I know that my resentment will become weaker the longer I stay around Dior.

I rise from the grass. "Great, you're finally you again."

"My head hurts..." Dior complains. "And excuse me but, how the hell did I get here?"

"You changed into some beast-like creature, then the Summerburst clan came—turns out June is a psychopath intent on kidnapping or murdering me. Yet somehow, we won the fight."

Dior stares at me like I've grown two heads, but then his lips slide into a smile. I hate how charming I find him and force my eyes to lock on a nearby tree, not the naked man on the ground.

"Sounds like an eventful night."

To my surprise, I giggle at his comment. "Tell me about it."

"The last time I changed, I ended up murdering Gloria."

I take a deep breath but remain silent. Pack members dying at the hands of their alpha can happen in the werewolf world, especially if the alpha doesn't like them. Dior's case is new, though. I've never met a werewolf with two different forms before. And while I don't know why his beast form killed Gloria, something tells me he didn't do it in cold blood.

Dior speaks again. "I can't control my actions when I change..."

"You didn't hurt me."

"But I could have."

"Yes." I narrow my eyes a little, whispering. "But I don't think you would. Even when you were in that form, I could feel it."

I hear him inhale. "Feel what?"

I'm compelled to admit in the name of truth. "The mate-bond."

Dior says nothing, so I turn around. He is still on the ground but peers up at me with a thoughtful expression as if he is reading my face like a book.

After a moment, a secretive smile curls his lips. "And what will you do about it, princess? Are you planning on rejecting me and leaving me in the dust?"

I narrow my eyes before coldly answering his question. "No, not yet."

The corners of his eyes crinkle. "Not yet?"

"I want to get to know you better first and then make my decision, but it's not looking good for you—you're a bully and a murderer. Gloria wasn't a friend of mine, so I feel little remorse, but it doesn't change the fact you killed a pack member."

Dior studies me under silence, then allows his eyes to drift away. "I have to tell the rest of my pack members about my secret."

"You should."

"Yes, ma'am!" Dior says, all serious yet privately smiling.

I hate how my blood spikes up when I see the dimples in his cheek and clench my fists, praying my heart will stop pounding. I'm acting like a love-struck teenager.

"We should probably go back inside. I'm freezing."

With gracious movements, Dior stands up and pops up by my side. My breath catches in my throat at the view because he is stunning.

Stretching his arms, Dior yawns with his eyes closed. His lips are slightly curled, and his entire stance reminds me of a cat—if they were armed with cobblestone abs and muscles that seem to quiver, ready to spring into action. A look of peace falls over him after his mouth closes, and then he tilts his head, curiously watching me.

"It is rude to stare."

Startled, I avert my eyes. "I wasn't staring at you!" I'm speaking the truth. I wasn't staring at Dior—I was gawking because fuck, how do you even resist looking at a fit, naked, and utterly gorgeous man?

His eyes flash to mine, and his lips curl into a smirk. "If you admit you were staring at me, then I will allow you to touch me."

I gasp in shock. "You're unbelievable and so freaking arrogant! Did it ever cross your mind that not everyone wishes to touch and have you for themselves?!"

Dior laughs. "Aw, you're blushing, Patricia!"

My cheeks heat further, and I stubbornly avert my eyes from the smiling fool, too aware of my hammering heartbeat. Dior chuckles to himself, and my gaze lands on him again—I'm hopeless!

I stare at his hard chest, trailing his neck and allowing my eyes to linger on his face and beard. A glimpse of confusion crosses Dior's features, yet he smiles as if he is simply happy that whatever is going through my head earns him my sole attention.

My blood pressure seems to drop when he widens his smile, and then I abruptly walk forward. Dior laughs behind me.

"Hey, wait up!"

"No!" I call back to him as I briskly walk over sticks and stones. I'm not strong enough to stay outside with Dior. I have to find shelter and wash my eyes with soap to forget about the view of him naked. "I don't wanna look at you before you have found yourself some new clothes!"

"Is the view that bad?"

"Yes!"

"Really?" Dior chuckles wickedly. "Because when I broke into your locker that one time, I read through some of your romance novels, and wow—Patricia, you're a thirsty girl. All the guys were described as ripped, perfect creatures, which makes me believe I might not be that far-off from what you desire."

I inwardly scream. "YOU READ THROUGH MY NOVELS?!"

I'm seething, convinced there can't be a cockier guy than Dior on the face of the earth. Once more, I face him but then immediately regret it.

Dior wandering around naked is a nightmare. I've been on a dry spell for months, but my underwear is already damp from checking out each rippling muscle on his body. Every ounce of his gorgeous, smooth skin made my fingers itch with the desire to touch him. I swear I've lost my goddamn mind.

"Like what you see?" Dior wags his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. "Ugh, you're a cliché too!"

Dior chuckles in response, and to my horror, he seems intent on walking right by my side. My insides are churning, both excited and angry around the idiot. I tell myself it's the mate-bond making me experience these flutters in my chest that I don't like this guy even a tiny bit.

Yet there is no denying the butterflies swarming my belly the moment I steal a glance of his smile.