Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 45 **

Alice

With a screech, my car comes to a halt. I've discreetly parked on the street right outside Dior's fancy house in the upper-class neighborhood. "So, you're planning on just confronting him and asking straight-out if he is the older Dior pretending to be the younger one?"

Patricia unbuckles her seatbelt with determination written over her features. Her parent's house with crime scene tape is standing in the background. She hasn't given the building her time of day, but I know it's calling out to her.

Her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "Yes, I don't think Dior would lie to me if I asked him to give me the truth."

I'm still not convinced this is a good idea. "But what if Dior gets aggressive? He might not like you asking too many questions."

"He won't get aggressive with me."

"Are you sure about that? The full moon will flash on the sky later, and who knows—perhaps it is messing with his head already!? The older Dior is less friendly and more chaotic. I'm not sure if annoying him is a good idea, considering the man is an alpha with some sick dark powers that can easily outmatch us both."

Patricia frowns. "Why does Dior have powers, anyway? I've never understood that. Are all alpha werewolves supposed to have magical abilities?"

I shrug, sharing her confusion. "I don't know—it might be because Dior is a white wolf, and they are supposed to be special?"

I don't tell Patricia that I suspect Dior's powers are from this realm he spoke of, the creepy shadow one. I believe dark powers manifested themselves in his body, and now the man can use shadows whenever and however he wishes.

Dior is a formidable foe, but what makes me shudder is that I've picked up on my elders mentioning the shadow realm when I was younger. I grew up in a coven, and the bedtime stories I heard were rather weird—one old legend even mentioned the shadow realm.

"Yeah, but..." Patricia is furrowing her eyebrows. "I feel like I'm missing something crucial here."

Guilt gnaws at me, forcing me to speak. Lying to my friend is impossible. I've never been close to someone my age before, and while it freaks me out to open up, I realize I will have to. To feel protected, I wish to join the Winterbite pack in the future if Patricia steps up as their luna, but for that to happen, I need to trust her and tell her everything.

My lips part with words begging to be voiced, and I take a deep breath before speaking. "Older Dior mentioned being from the shadow realm. I know little about that place, but I've gathered legends and stories among my fellow witches."

My words pick Patricia's interest. "What legends?"

"Well, according to a picture book I had as a child, the shadow realm acted as a prison for creatures too dangerous to roam the earth," I hesitate before voicing my concerns and suspicions. "In the past, your kind wasn't called werewolves."

"What do you mean?"

I meet Patricia's eyes. "Werewolves were two-legged, cursed creatures that turned every full moon. They resulted from witches trying to achieve eternal life and strength. But most who turned couldn't control themselves. They ate their friends and slaughtered their family members in cold blood. And to protect humanity, mother nature created shape-shifters."

"Shape-shifters… That would be my kind," Patricia tilts her head. "And what happened then?"

"With the help from the shape-shifters and five compelling magic users, a portal opened. It sucked every single two-legged creature into its gap, leaving no one left." I smile. "I read about this as a child, but the story never struck me as accurate. But now I realize it's the story about how shape-shifters could take the name 'werewolf' for themselves. It also tells another interesting story."

"Which is?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Older Dior mentioned a council, and there are five members in it—it can't be a coincidence that my old bedtime story has five compelling magic users in it."

Patricia nods. "True."

"Sadly, I know very little about the said council."

"My mother used to speak of a council," Patricia grimaces. "She said they might speak with me when I turn eighteen, but they never did, which left me disappointed. I thought I was special for three years, only to be let down when the council didn't care about my existence."

"You're still special," I tell her in an earnest voice. "You're a wonderful friend."

Patricia's lips crack into a friendly smile. "Thank you, Alice-..."

My friend suddenly turns silent, then lifts her head, staring out into the forest before turning around to gawk at her parent's house. Fear flashes on her face until it dissolves into curiosity.

"What is it?" I ask, eyeing her facial expression thoughtfully. Patricia looks like she has seen a ghost. "Is there something in the forest?"

Patricia appears speechless before letting out a laugh. "Call me crazy, but I think my parent's old house is trying to tell me something, whisper me closer. Inside my head, I can catch what sounds like tiny voices mumbling into my ears—they want me to come out and play."

Usually, I would laugh if a friend told me they picked up on voices. A mental institute sounds about right if they were experiencing what Patricia describes, but Patricia is a werewolf, and Dior once called her different. I've been wondering what makes the wolf so unique. Will I get my answer if I allow her to enter her old home?

I shift in my seat. "Do you want to follow the advice of the voices and glance around your old place, see if there is anything you might have missed the first time around?"

Patricia nods but then hesitates, lifting her eyes to mine. "Yes, but I think I'm supposed to go alone. My gut is telling me this is a one-person job, and my intuition is usually right."

I smile. "And what am I supposed to do?"

Patricia smiles back. "Keep guard, and make sure June's men aren't out there, waiting to strike. With Dior locked up, they might try something funny and enter Winterbite territory."

I nod. "Roger that—I will keep an eye out."

Patricia deepens her smile before opening the car door. She shuts it behind her, and I follow her outside. The wind is rustling the autumn leaves around our feet, and I stay quiet as Patricia lifts her head to stare up at the building where she grew up.

"I hope I'm right about this," Patricia says, inhaling with her hands dug into her pockets. Dark hair is flaring around her deep-set eyes, and she turns to me, looking all sad and reluctant. "If you notice anything out of the ordinary, yell my name, and we will leave these creepy grounds quicker than we came."

I can't fight her on that one. Patricia's house looks like a haunted mansion, and I'm picking up strange magic oozing from it. Oddly enough, I don't think it's evil, only ancient and unrecognizable.

"Take all the time you need," I tell her and glance around the area with evident dread and mistrust. The street is too quiet for my liking. "I will make sure no one enters the house."

Patricia gives me an approving look. "Thank you. I will try to be quick about this home visit." Her eyes flash to mine before she opens the door with a creak. A surge of magic rushes past us, leaving us both gasping before Patricia giggles. "It seems like someone is impatient—I can't wait to find out what is waiting for me outside!"

Worry floods up to the surface. "Be careful!"

"Oh, I will!" Patricia promises. "But somehow, I doubt the voices calling me mean any harm," she giggles. "They seem... Friendly."

I shudder uncontrollably. "Please don't take too long in there—this is only getting creepier by the minute, and you referring to the voices as 'them' doesn't exactly calm me!"

"Aren't you excited?" Patricia asks, winking at me. "Anyway, the voices are growing impatient, so I guess I will head inside now."

Another row of shivers. "Ugh, no comment!"

There is laughter. "I will be right back!"

I shout after her, hoping she can hear me as she ventures into the magical house. "You better be, or I will call fraud Dior!"

A snicker echoes against the walls. "If you call fraud Dior, then we are officially no longer friends—I can handle myself!"

"Yeah, yeah, speak to the hand! I rather take my chances with him being able to save you than let you die!"

There isn't an answer. Patricia is too far inside the mansion to speak, and I look around the street, hoping tonight won't be very eventful. I take a seat on the porch, only to gasp when a cream-colored wolf peers back at me from between two oak trees.

A smile graces my lips, and I whisper. "William?"

** 46 **

Patricia

I've never been powerful or memorable.

When I was younger, my pack members laughed and bullied me and called me fat Patty, but their menacing voices made my skin thicker even as their words burned me.

Tears were replaced with resolution. I became a lone wolf and someone convinced I didn't need any helping hand to survive. The lines around my eyes grew darker, and my inner poison and resentment for the alpha who treated me like shit turned me into a bitter woman.

But when Dior touched me, my barriers collapsed. My flesh shone like the skies and heavens. He kissed me, pressed me up against the tiled wall while my soul begged to be seen and held in his arms. And he gave it to me, everything that I ever wanted—for the first time in my life, I was lost and found.

I clench my fists as I pass the walls where my name is written in red blood. Some letters are small, whereas others are capitalized. The entire house reeks of magic and darkness. But I'm not about to turn around even if I'm scared and constantly reminded of the terrible things that have happened here.

Tonight determination is coursing through my veins, and the thing that drives me and makes me fearlessly storm forward is the memory of how loved I felt in Dior's arms.

As I near the stairs leading down to the basement, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. The living room walls are staring at me, and my father's blood has discolored the floor, which has left it permanently red.

"You can do this, Patricia..." I whisper to myself as I take the first step, and then another.

Before I know it, my eyes gaze out over my father's old workspace and wooden bookshelves. My hand reaches for the light switch, and the lamp flickers a few times before shedding light over the scene.

I study the various items cast on the floor—it seems someone has been here before me, searching for something. The strangest part is that the smell left behind is that of the Winterbite pack. I can't tell who the person was—I'm bad at memorizing scents, but knowing there is a mole among Dior's friends makes my stomach churn.

"I wonder if they found what they were looking for..." I mumble as I step forward, letting my fingertips drag along the bookshelves as I steer myself forward through the disordered basement.

Shudders wander down my spine the further I walk, and then a breeze travels past my legs. It moves unnaturally, like a dog hesitantly sniffing a new guest stepping into its home.

I stand entirely still as the gentle wind flows my air around me. It circles me, but its intentions seem more curious than anything. And for whatever reason, I seem to pass the test.

The lights flicker, and a potent force pushes at my back, guiding me forward. I shriek in surprise, closing my eyes as I dart forward without being able to control my movements.

"No-no-no, stop moving me around!" I shout, with my eyes cracked wide-open in fear. The room smells like magic—did I anger a spirit?! "I'm sorry if I interrupted you! I didn't mean to, please don't hurt me!"

Everything stops moving. My hair falls back, and I swallow thickly before lifting my chin to stare up at an empty spot on the wall. One tile differs from the rest.

"What in the world...?"

The tile shines with a bright white light, and within seconds, a spot in the wall snaps open. Debris falls on the ground, revealing a beautiful orb not more extensive than a tennis ball.

Without thinking, I reach out my finger, touching the ball, which causes the entire room to shine like the sun.

Squinting, I step away from the light, covering my face with my arms. I'm pushed away by an invisible force until suddenly the craziness stops, and a man appears out of nowhere.

His eyes are shut close, white hair flows around his head, and his lips form a gentle smile. Tribal tattoos snake around his arms—they are glowing in white and contrasting with his brown skin.

I stare at him, up and down, while wondering why he is wearing what looks like what an island warrior of Atlantis would wear. The stranger is giving off some severe Disney vibes.

"It's been too long!" The stranger rolls his shoulders with a long groan, and then he opens his eyes, eyeing me with a formidable fierceness that dissolves and turns into a huge grin. "Oh, a new master!"

Before I know it, my poor feet are floating above this tall stranger's knees as he squeezes the life out of me in a hug. He rubs his cheek against me, and my lips turn into a thin stretch as I try to make sense of the situation. I'm freaking terrified—who the heck is this person?!

"Ah, feels great, man!" The stranger dances around with me, not even caring that we haven't introduced ourselves. "I've been locked inside that orb for years, and finally, someone worthy has shown up!"

My voice comes out high-pitched. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Oh, right!" The stranger puts me down and clears his throat. "I'm bad at the whole talking thing."

I almost laugh.

Almost.

"I can see that..."

The stranger grins and sticks out a massive hand, expecting me to take it, and when I hesitantly grab it with my suspicious eyes locked on his face, his lips turn cheesy.

"The name is Finn, guardian of the element of wind—I'm at your service, ready to tackle any obstacle!"

I stare at him, and my jaw is lost somewhere on the floor. "Wait, you're a what now? You're only giving me new questions!"

Finn laughs in amusement, crossing his arms over his thick, formidable, and very naked chest. "Okay, then let me explain. There are five orbs, each one containing a guardian of a distinct element, and you, my lady, own the most amazing guardian—me!"

"And what does that mean?" I wrinkle my nose. "That you will fight for me or something?"

"No-no-no!" Finn seems to grin wider, if that is even possible. "It means that whenever you need me, I will grant you the power of the wind element, and whenever you don't need me," he pouts like a sad puppy. "I will return to that damn ball."

My lips quirk into a half-smile. "You don't like the ball?"

"Hell no! I would much rather stay outside of that prison, but every master I've had has been so cold and emotionless, never letting me leave the ball and see the outside world!"

"Hm," I hum. "Tell you what, if you show this amazing power of yours, then I will let you stay outside of that ball once I'm done using these abilities you claim to possess."

"Really?!"

Finn is all expectant, smiling at me in this way that is bordering over to creepy.

"Yes," I tell him. "I promise."

Finn whistles and cheers, and like last time, I'm suddenly flying as he throws me around inside the room like a toddler. Seriously, what am I—a magnet for giant guys?!

"Excellent!" Finn is beaming at me while we are dancing. "So far, you're the best master that I've ever had! We will have so much fun together—eat sushi, experience the sunset, and oh, I've never hugged a kitten before! Can I do that?!"

My head is spinning, eyes hurting, which Finn notices. His lips turn apologetic, and I'm put down again.

"Sorry... I've been locked up inside that ball for like a hundred years, give or take, and I lack the human basics, or so I've been told. All my previous masters have found me rather annoying."

"It's alright..." My head won't stop buzzing. "And you're not annoying, only a little overly energetic."

Finn sighs and passes me a friendly smile. "Here, let me make it up to you—I can make you better in one second!"

Finn closes his eyes, and then he disappears from my line of vision. I blink in confusion and sense something gentle pass through me. It makes my feet seem lighter, and my blood is buzzing with renewed energy.

There is a chuckle inside of my head. 'For this to work, you need to shape-shift, and excuse me but, I didn't catch your name!'

At first, my lips part, but a sudden awareness rolls through me, and I realize that right now, I'm one with Finn.

I reply Finn with the mere thought. 'My name is Patricia.'

'Patricia—I like it!' Finn chuckles. 'Well then, master Patricia, why don't you try to shape-shift and see what happens?'

I'm not sure why, but I'm nervous. It's like I have this distant knowledge that shape-shifting will be different this time around. Yet I obey the spirit that has entered my body, let my hands and limbs crack, and transform me into a wolf.

And as soon as I'm standing there, twitching my ears, it's like I've entered an entirely new world. I can see where magic has touched, and I can sense it traveling through me.

'Wow...' I whisper.

Finn is laughing now, totally excited. 'Try howling!'

'Why?'

'Just trust me!'

I do as he says, howling from the bottom of my heart, and the surrounding wind responds to my call by surging all around me, forming a protective barrier.

'Am I dreaming?' I ask while trying hard not to laugh. Never in my entire life have I've been capable of using magic.

'Nope,' Finn replies. 'You and I are in perfect harmony with each other, which means you can use my abilities to their full potential—try running up the stairs. Put your heart into it!'

I do as he says, moving my limbs and laughing inside my head at the wind following me around. I'm super fast—nothing can stop me!