Claiming The Enemy’s Daughter Novels & Stories

The quake of her body underneath at my hands and fingers while she latched on as if to the rest of her whole world's end. For one flickering moment, I had been allowed to believe that maybe this was what I had searched for. But then came the morning. And when I had asked her who she was, and she had told me the truth, my anger had been instant and overwhelming. The daughter of my enemy. She had tried to explain, but all that came across was this was some sort of ploy, a trick to ensnare me. Then when she spoke about who she was, The weak and disgraced Omega everyone whispered about.

“I don’t think you want to find out.” Then he turned slightly, extending his hand toward me. My chest tightened as I looked at it. Slowly, I placed my palm in his, and he drew me closer, our hands laced between us like a shield. “My beloved Louisa here,” Jace said, his voice ringing with conviction, “isn’t the enemy.” Her face twisted, her eyes narrowing on me like blades. “Her father killed your father. She is the enemy. Soon, she will use her pack against us.”

We spent a good part of our lives searching for her. ‘I never looked out for her,’ I denied. Vuk clawed at my insides. A low groan roared in my chest as I approached her. Well, I was this close. This close to taking my word back. Vuk let his damn guards down, the instant we set eyes on this fragile, delicate thing. Albeit, she was the daughter of my pack's enemy. She could be a spy or something. Vuk snapped. ‘She doesn't seem that way to me,’ he purred, completely drowned in the sea of emotions.

I asked, dread coiling in my gut. “I’m saying,” she replied, stepping back toward the door, “if I walk out of here tonight, we’re no longer allies. I become your enemy.” The words hit like ice water, and I sat there, speechless. But she wasn’t done. “There’s something else you need to know,” she said, her voice calm, too calm. “Julian has his eyes on something else in New York. Something... personal.” I didn’t breathe. “My father wants his daughter,” she said flatly. “And he’s coming for her.”

I stared at him, unable to tell if it was a question or if he was just stating it aloud, like he needed to hear it to believe it. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” My voice was quiet, my eyes burning, everything blurring at the edges. I reached out and touched his hand. “Enzo. Please.” My voice broke on the word. “Tell me everything we had wasn’t just some revenge plan. Tell me I’m wrong.” He looked down at my hand on his, then moved his hand away. The silence that followed was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. “Yes.” His voice was low, like he’d made a decision to just say it and get it over with. “Of course you are the daughter of my enemy.”

“You know it’s not just the bond pulling you. You like her.” “Doesn’t matter.” “Why not?” He looked at her, jaw tight. “Because we’re at war. Because my claiming her would start something we might not survive.” “Or maybe,” she said gently, “it ends something that never should’ve started.” He hated when she made sense. Later that night, he found himself walking again. Not because he meant to. His body just… moved. And somehow—he ended up near Frostclaw territory. Again. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But she was there.

The toast in his hand lowered slowly before he dropped it back onto the plate with enough force to make the dishes clatter and a stretched silence followed. He stood, brushing crumbs from his fingers before adjusting his tie. He grabbed a jacket from the chair beside him and walked directly toward me. The look he gave me carried open disdain. He leaned closer as he passed. “My clothes look better on me than they look on you,” he murmured quietly before stepping out the front door. Fine! Now I know whose clothes I had on. Before I could respond, another voice cut through the tension. “My daughter is going nowhere with you.” Sienna’s mother stepped forward, placing herself directly between us.

I could feel him fighting the urge to listen to me, the urge to strike Jerome down. Clumsily, I got to my feet, staggered towards him and stopped a few inches away. “Please…don't,” I begged, my voice barely a whisper now. “They took his daughter, Daemon. He wasn’t thinking straight. He’s not the enemy here.” Daemon’s chest heaved as he stared into Jerome’s terrified eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something human behind all that fury, grief, maybe. Recognition. A memory.

Taste of his sweat and blood on her tongue. Kael’s hand fisted in her hair. Pulled her head back so he could look at her. “Then destroy. I will build again with whatever is left.” A weak howl rose from the enemy camp. Rowan. Voice hoarse and broken. He had felt it. The joining. The claiming. The way she gave herself to the enemy king in the dirt like an animal in heat. Shame tried to rise. The Lunar blood burned it away. Lyra ground her hips down once more. Slow. Deliberate. Taking what she wanted. Kael groaned and hardened again inside her.

"She's been playing the victim for years. Everyone believes she's weak, fragile, helpless. But if you try to expose her, who do you think they're going to believe? The woman who has been sick and suffering for years? Or the daughter who signed a contract with the enemy's son and disappeared?" Damien stepped forward, his voice cold and sharp. "Then we expose her before she can make her move. We use the evidence your father gathered. We go public." My father looked at him, something shifting in his expression. "And we have three days," he said. "Three days before the society's next meeting. If we can get proof of that meeting, we can expose every single member—including your mother." --- We mo