BRED BY MY ENEMY

.NADIR.

“Find her! Or we’ll all be murdered!” The hunter yelled behind me,his voice cold and sharp as I ran, my mind was blank, with just a simple intent — I needed to get away from this hellhole.

It had been five years already — five years of suffering, five years of being tossed around from one slave trader to another, sustaining every mark, pain, and heartbreak that came with it.

I’d been sold and then returned, over and over  again.

My sharp tongue and defiance  weren’t helping matters. Only this time, it was worse. I’d be branded by whoever sold me — no returns, no refunds — just the rest of my life filled with hell. I couldn’t have that. Tears welled up in my eyes as my feet caught on branches and twigs, tearing at my skin.

My life had been perfect. I enjoyed the privileges of being the Beta’s daughter — the source of jealousy for other female wolves. Things had been fine. But then the Northclaw Pack attacked.

We put up a fight — and we lost.

I’d served under their pack for a year, beaten and bloodied with each day that passed, serving the royal quarters of Alpha King Darius — until I was considered weak and tossed to the slave trade, each day filled with despair.

My leg caught on a branch, causing me to stumble and fall hard against the forest floor, biting down on my lip. I shook a sharp breath, frozen in place, hearing the footsteps approach even closer.

Crawling over to the riverbank, I hid between the jagged rocks, hearing their orders pass and their footsteps recede. Brief seconds passed before I pushed myself up to my feet.

My legs were now bleeding profusely from the cuts. I’d sprained an ankle too. I was malnourished — healing wouldn’t be as easy as it had once been.

“Running?”

A sharp voice called from ahead. I raised my face, a jolt of electricity coursing through me. I swallowed thickly, my heart thumping in my chest as my eyes locked with the golden-flecked ones before me.

Not from fear — but from hatred.

I knew him. Too well.

Alpha Florian. Son of Lord Darius. The son of my enemy.

He had shorts on, every other part of him bare to my sight — water dripping from his skin while a smug grin remained strapped to his lips.

“I’m leaving anyway,” I retorted sharply, my words cutting with tension as I turned on my feet to move. But my body failed me. I stumbled forward, realizing the damage done to my feet was far worse than I had believed.

“How about I ask again — lost? Or running?” he asked, still not moving from the spot he’d been standing in.

“Not your business!” I snapped right back. I hated him — everything he stood for. Of course I’d known him. I’d served in his chambers for two weeks on a shift. But he wouldn’t recall a miserable, weak maid.

Not when he’d always had his arms full of women, wine, and his foolish friends who loved to stoke his ego every damn minute.

“Have we met before?” he asked, tilting his head, studying me intensely — running his eyes down my body in a way that made me suddenly aware.

I pushed myself up, trying to walk — to no avail. After more failed, embarrassing attempts than I could count, I sank back against the grass, fighting hard to keep my whimpers held in. I could wait — hide and hope it would heal the best it could by the time I returned. But this high-born standing around would make me spotted at any minute.

“Stop staring at me.”

“You know what?” he asked, taking gentle but menacing steps toward me.

“I hate people like you,” he spat.

But if he expected it to get a rise out of me, he was wrong. Because the feeling was mutual.

“You’re clothed, fed… at least given a reason to be alive. And then you had to ruin it all by trying to escape?” he asked, finally stopping before me. I tore my gaze from his well-sculpted body and the insanely unnecessary amount of muscle on him.

“I’m surprised the prince of the Northclaws knows a thing or two about slave living. Besides, you don’t get to attack a pack, steal from them, and sell them into slavery — then come out acting high and mighty, giving some little speech about being given a reason to live.”

The words rolled off my lips with mockery and sarcasm, every note of it laced with venom. I saw his jaw tick at my response — irritation flashing through his eyes.

“Maybe next time your warriors should’ve done better protecting you. Or trained harder — rather than waste time training weak, ugly-ass wolves like you.”

He mocked.

I growled, a faint snarl slipping off my lips at the condescending manner in which he spoke.

I wanted nothing more than to reach for his throat and strangle the life out of him. But with my broken feet and weak state, it would be a stupid choice. And I wasn’t certain I’d ever get a chance like this again — a chance to be up close with the enemy I loathed to death.

So I took it.

I sprang forward with every ounce of strength I had, lunging at him. My claws wrapped around his neck, digging into his throat. A smirk crawled up one side of his lips — and before I knew it, he flipped me over.

Now I was pinned beneath him, snarling and growling while he just watched. He yanked at my chin, squeezing so hard that a little more pressure would have dislocated my jaw. He knew it too — judging by the sick glint in his eyes.

“A runner, a thief… and no doubt a feisty slave,” he mocked, pressing harder to my jaw, earning a wince from me.

“Is that all? Don’t tell me this pathetic attempt was meant to murder me. Really? It’s embarrassing — and humiliating.”

He mocked again.

This time he curled his palms over my neck, determined to strangle every ounce of air out of me — when we both froze.

I swear I saw it — the flicker of fear in his eyes.

And then it hit me.His scent.The husky, woody scent filled my nostrils, sparking ignition along every inch of my body he’d touched.

And then it snapped into place.

The mate bond. He tethered onto me — becoming my very own gravity.

“Mate,” our wolves chanted in unison.

Terror marred my features as sudden realization dawned on me.

Footsteps approached us while I struggled to drag in erratic breaths — still staring at the monster who’d become my soul mate. My other half.

Florian.

Of all people The Moon Goddess had matched me with the enemy’s son.

“There she is! I’m sorry for the disturbance, Alpha Florian. She’s quite a lot,” one of the guards called out from above.

Florian rolled away from me.

He'd been appalled seconds ago — realizing we were mates. But seeing the cruel smile on his face gutted me.

“I want this one,” he said, pointing a finger at me — his eyes pinned on the slave hunter standing above the rock.

“I don’t get—”

“I said how much? She’s a slave, isn't she?,”  His voice was calm, controlled — and terrifying.

“I’ll buy her. And I want her now.”