Alpha Enemy, Lover Mine のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

I stared at Sebastian.No. I glared.Because I knew that look in his eyes. The calculated calm. The way his words always dripped with ten meanings—and never the one you hoped he meant.He was still looking at her.At Raine.“After all,” he said smoothly, gaze flicking from her to me and back again, “I’ve sacrificed a lot for someone. Maybe it’s their time to pay me back.”It wasn’t a threat.It wasn’t even jealousy.It was ownership.And it made something curl in my chest—tight and hot and primal.Laura didn’t flinch. Not outwardly. But I saw her spine straighten, her jaw twitch ever so slightly. The kind of microexpression you wouldn’t catch unless you wanted to.Which I did.Because I watch her now.Every damn second.Sebastian turned and left after that, like he’d just dropped a casual comment about the weather and not set the entire room on fire.Penelope looked like she was trying to figure out whether to scream, cry, or fake-faint for attention.And Raine…Raine was doing what s

The plates clinked softly as I stacked them, steam still curling from half-eaten bowls of stew and untouched desserts. The maids chatted nearby, wiping down counters and giggling over something that, frankly, I was too distracted to catch.Until I did.“Oh my Goddess, wouldn’t it be so romantic if we could go to the anniversary ball?” one of them sighed dreamily. “Imagine wearing a gown that doesn’t smell like potatoes.”“I just want to see it,” another whispered. “Even from the hallway. They say the Alphas from other packs are coming. And the garden’s going to be lit up with floating lanterns this year!”“And dates!” the third one chimed in with a hopeless swoon. “Imagine someone actually asking us.”Their voices faded behind the sound of running water and clinking cutlery, but the idea lingered in the air like the scent of sugared tea.I didn’t care about floating lanterns.Or dancing.Or dates.I wasn’t here for that.And yet…My hands moved on autopilot, scrubbing dishes, stacking

We walked side by side down the hallway.Like nothing happened.Like he hadn’t just kissed me like he was trying to carve his name into my bones.His hands were in his pockets, whistling like he didn’t just detonate a bomb between us. Meanwhile, I was forcing myself to breathe evenly and not glance at him every two seconds like a hormonal teenager.The hallway felt longer than usual. Or maybe it was just the silence stretching tight between us.“So,” he said finally, glancing sideways at me. “That kiss was… efficient.”I gave him a bland look. “Efficient?”“You know. Practical. Straight to the point.” He nodded sagely. “Very professional of us.”“Right. Super professional,” I echoed dryly.He grinned. “Should we file a report about it? Log it in the ‘maid and master’ handbook? Page forty-two: in case of emotional emergency, lock lips.”“Don’t make me hit you.”“You’re blushing.”“I’m not.”“Your ears are red.”I stopped walking.He took two steps before noticing, then turned to face m

They keep saying it like it’s a declaration. Like it holds power.“Mine.”As if I’m a piece of territory to be claimed. As if I’m some prize they found in the ruins of a battlefield. First Marcus, then Sebastian—both so different, and yet… echoing the same possessive word.Mine.But here’s the truth neither of them understands yet.It’s not them who owns me.It’s me… who owns them.Marcus, with all his messy, explosive emotions—storming into rooms, demanding answers, wearing his heart like armor and thinking no one can see how much it bleeds. And Sebastian, all calm and clever, trying to outmaneuver people like it’s a game of chess, while thinking he’s five moves ahead.But they’re both wrong.They think they’ve marked me. Tethered me. Called dibs.But I’ve already wrapped them around my fingers—strings they don’t see, but they follow anyway.Marcus with his tantrums and teasing, throwing his pride at my feet like it’s some weapon he barely knows how to use.Sebastian with his slow st

The cafeteria buzzed with mid-morning noise—clinking plates, scraped chairs, and overlapping conversations. I was seated with the maids, half-listening as I chewed through a piece of bland toast that had definitely seen better days. One of them was talking about what dress she might wishfully wear if servants were ever allowed to attend pack events. Another was fussing over which warrior she’d choose as a date if she had the chance.All harmless chatter.Until I heard that table.The warriors’ table—loud, always laughing too much, as if they were the only ones in the room who mattered. They’d been yapping between bites, but now one of them—the cocky one with a voice like gravel and a face too confident for how average it actually was—leaned forward and dropped the bait.“Ever heard the story of that rogue wolf?” he said, low and conspiratorial, like he was spinning some forbidden legend. “The one that wiped out an entire pack just because her mate betrayed her?”The other warriors lea