Enemies To Lover Novels & Stories

In the center was a raised podium crowned with a deep red curtain, waiting to unveil something. Something important. “If it isn't Miss Syra,” came the voice I never wanted to hear. I turned — and there he was. Hundersone. From the Lioran Pack. My former rival at A&S. The arrogant bastard who never understood boundaries. “I heard there was trouble in paradise,” he sneered. “Did he finally—” I didn’t let him finish. I didn’t need his bitter commentary. He had once tried to forcibly mark me — and that memory alone made my blood boil.

On Sebastian, it was steel, not silver. Still, the thought wormed into her mind like a sickness: if he wasn’t after her because of Carlos… what if this was about Bethany? Her mother. The woman who hated her with a venom that never dulled. The very idea made her stomach turn. The son of her mortal enemy—whether through blood or loyalty—falling in love with her? The image was so absurd, so revolting, she almost laughed. Almost. Because it wasn’t funny. It was dangerous.

he spat, storming off before Dante could see the crack in his armor. That night, alone in his room, Aiden scrolled through the headlines until his vision blurred. “Blackthorn and Veyron: From Rivals to Partners?” “Chemistry Caught on Camera: Are the Heirs More Than Allies?” “United Front or Secret Affair?” His reflection stared back from the black screen—scarred, bruised, uncertain. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t erase the heat of Dante’s arm around him, or the gleam in those golden eyes that had looked far too much like they belonged there.

Back then, I'd felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I'd believed he cherished me so much that he could control his desires for my sake. I'd thought it was romantic. Noble. Proof of his deep love for me. Turns out, he was just being faithful to his actual love. Imelda. The girl he'd been with since childhood. The girl he actually wanted to touch. I was just the mark. The target. The fool with money. "You're really a fool, Princess," I told myself out loud. "A complete and total idiot."

“She’s not weak. She’s survived worse than what we’ve thrown at her so far.” A smile crept into the darkness. “I’m not underestimating her. I’m studying her.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. “And while she has people who love her, she has just as many who resent her. Old grudges. Quiet hatred. People waiting for the right excuse.” The first man exhaled slowly. “Enemies.” “Yes,” the second said, satisfaction bleeding into the word. “And enemies are far more useful than loyal friends. Friends protect. Enemies destroy.”

So why was she still angry? She had no right to be angry at him. She was the one getting married even if she harbored no affections for her supposed spouse. Her relationship with Brandon was ending or had already ended. There was no need for her to get angry. They were not lovers. Just two people who slept with each other. She was not attracted to him even with how handsome he looked. His brown hair and blue eyes made him stand out in the crowd. And the tattoos on his body made him appetizing. He was sex on a stick, she knew that but she could not bring herself to see him as nothing more than her enemy and also, a temporary sex partner.

What did he mean? "It's your old lover's birthday. If I go there, won't it ruin the chance for you to chat about the good old days?" She pouted. That was a sweet talk. Daniel reached out his finger and lightly clicked on it. "Right now, Leila and I are only good friends. You are my wife. I hope you two can be friends too." Friend? How is that possible? Have you ever seen a rival in love turn into a friend? Enemies in love are incompatible as fire and water. They are incompatible with each other. It's the relationship that only one can survive between you and me!

Jaw tight. Chest heavier than it should’ve been. “…yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “Guess we’re back to enemies.” But even as he said it— It didn’t feel the same anymore.

She was like an angel captured in the devil's bed. A willing angel in the devil's bed. Mine. I’d never give her up. I didn’t give a fuck who I’d have to ruin or kill. She was my perfection. The best part was that she’d let me because she wanted to be mine. My enemies called me the Villainous Kingpin. The devil in a three-piece-suit. She just called me hers. She loved me, just the way I was. And God knew I loved her just the way she was. My most beautiful perfection.