Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 57 **

Patricia

My eyes flash open, and I go into panic mode, breathing wildly while searching the room.

I was barely conscious during the entire way home. Dior jumped through a magical rabbit hole, and the other pack members followed, including Wesley and Elijah. I can’t say I remember much—I think I fell asleep in Dior’s arms.

And now, I’m back inside my room, blinking in the darkness with alarming fear circling my throat—what if I hallucinated that part about Dior coming home?!

My eyes dart around the room until landing on the bulk of a massive man next to me. Dior is taking up half of the bed, and his snores are sending light vibrations through the mattress.

Yet, an inner calm falls over me like a blanket when I see the giant next to me. Dior is finally back, and that realization makes me swallow the lump in my throat.

“Thank goodness...”

Dior is on his stomach, blowing air through his mouth with his legs akimbo. Dark hair is laid out over the pillow, and I cautiously place my hand on his large shoulder.

Unfortunately, Dior stirs in his sleep, and my heart leaps. I’m about to withdraw my hand, but the man hums as if wanting me to pet him, and I brush my hand over his broad back with a slight smile.

It feels nice being together again and having Dior close, but after a few seconds, the man jerks awake. Eyes find mine in the dark, adjusting themselves by blinking, and my face goes numb with embarrassment when I realize I’m still touching Dior.

“Uh...” I place my hand on my lap. “Hi?”

Our time apart has made me uncertain of what we are. Romance is what I want, but I don’t dare to hope for it. I’m scared Dior might have changed his mind about me.

Dior chuckles. “What time is it?”

The atmosphere is warm and light, and I stretch my toes before replying in a soft voice. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“I just woke up,” I say and press my palm against the eyepatch covering the left side of my face. The stinging pain is gone, but unfortunately, my eye is gone forever. “I must resemble a damn pirate with this thing on.”

Dior reaches out a hand to grab my foot. His skin is warm as he entirely engulfs and massages it. “Captain Pat Sparrow, is it?”

Snickering, I bonk his head with the pillow. “Don’t call me Pat, please.”

Dior chuckles. “Why do you hate nicknames so much?”

“They remind me of the past.”

His smile falters. “Oh... I’m sorry.”

I brush off the topic with my hand. “Don’t be—I’m over what happened between us. It was ages ago, and weirdly enough, it brought us closer.”

Dior huffs a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose you know me better than anyone. You’ve seen both the good and the bad, and I must be one lucky man because you aren’t running.”

I smile at him. “How do you know I’m not running?”

One of his thick eyebrows arches. “I mean, your titles make it pretty obvious, don’t you think, luna Patricia? Second in command and the future wife of Dior?”

My skin burns—shit, I had forgotten about that part, and now Dior is smiling wider, grinning at me. Fuck-fuck-fuck, he will get the wrong idea, and oh-my-god!

I panic. “No, wait, I can explain! I had to say that to make the Winterbite pack listen to me and follow my commands!”

Dior chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure you gained everyone’s respect by saying you are my future wife.”

Anger rushes into my veins, but it’s replaced by shock when I see the light in Dior’s eyes. The room is dark, yet he seems to carry this inner bubble of joy that makes everything appear lighter.

And I suddenly realize Dior isn’t trying to humiliate me—no, there is too much love and desire written on his face, and suddenly, I’m attacked by the bear-like man.

“Fuck me. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t keep away any longer!” Dior jumps over me, and all air leaves my lungs when the massive man lies on top of me, crushing me underneath his inhuman weight. “You’re here!”

“D-Dior!”

“Yes?”

“I-I can’t breathe!”

“Shit!” The man curses and moves away, only to slip his dextrous fingers beneath me and flip me like a pancake. When I look again, I’m in his lap with his face inches from mine. “I’ve been in the shadow realm for so long that any human contact is like heaven on earth—you don’t understand how much I’ve missed you!”

Dior kisses my forehead, and the physical pull turns intense when his lips brush against my skin. I’m usually never assertive, but Dior’s scent is intoxicating, and our mate-bond has always been so strong and near impossible to ignore.

“I hope I’m not being too...” He hesitates. “I mean, I don’t know what we are or if you even want me.”

“Dior?” He looks at me, and I smile. “I want you. Only you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, liking how he seems even more rugged and muscular than before. Perhaps he has been training like me, and I laugh in delight when he picks me up from the bed.

“I need to kiss you,” Dior is stressing out the words, breathing hard as I wrap my legs around him. His lips are on my neck, trailing passionate kisses down to my collarbone. I shudder. Dior’s nearness is incredible, and his voice is deep when he speaks. “It’s been too long since I had you. Every minute without you in the shadow realm felt like a cold, empty year—you’re the sun in my life, Patricia. And I want more.”

He got a boner down there, and I’m not setting up a better example—the moment I touch his broad shoulders and hear his romantic words, my underwear turns damp with desire.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

Barely able to breathe, I lock eyes with Dior as we move across the room, from the bed to the couch. His lips quirk into a mischievous smirk, and then I’m flipped over the armrest. My nipples turn hard the second they touch the hard cushion, and I’m hyperaware of my ass being higher up than the rest of my body.

Dior presses his big palm against my shuddering back and lets out a groan that makes him sound like a sexy male in control. “Ever tried doggy before, princess?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Dior doesn’t reply and grabs my ass. My elbows are pressing down into the cushion, and my pussy tingles when Dior teases me with the tip of his cock. It seems I don’t need foreplay—all I want is for him to fill me up to the brink of hurting.

I push myself against him, and Dior chuckles. “Impatient.”

“You’re such a tease!” I tell him.

My neither regions are fluttering and pulsating, throbbing for his cock to the point I’m afraid I’m dripping. I swear no dildo is better than the rod Dior is equipped with—it’s so large and veiny and perfect!

“I want you now!” I exclaim. “Please!”

Dior doesn’t waste a moment and sinks into me, making me dig my nails into the cushion. He is larger than I remember, stretching me and adjusting before finally fucking me.

And it’s incredible!

“Faster!” I order between moaning and having my breast jingle in my face. Their weight is heavy, but Dior loves it—he grabs them from behind, making me feel like a hot pornstar. His grunts are so sexy, and his cock is pulsating within me, getting even harder.

Shit! I’m already lost in the sensation, especially when Dior bends forward to get even deeper inside of me. I cry out and close my eye, shuddering when he whispers into my ear.

“Do you want me to mark you, Patricia?”