Sipping With The Enemy Novels & Stories

Robert stared back at the pair of brown eyes of a young man who looked so intent on killing him. The distance between him and the man was only a circular bar table. The room was dimly lit by a bit of light from the yellow lamp that lit up the lined display of drink bottles. No one tried to get ahead to speak up. The cold beer in front of them began to warm up, as seen from the melted dew. It didn't even shake the interest of the two men to touch, let alone finish the drink.

she asked. I didn’t bother acknowledging her. I kept my eyes on the storm outside, sipping my wine in silence. Her footsteps drew closer until I felt her arms wrap around me from behind. She leaned her head on my shoulder, voice soft but laced with entitlement. “What’s the issue, mate?” Mate. I frowned. The word left a sour taste in my mouth, but I stayed quiet. This wasn’t the time for carelessness. I needed to choose my words wisely. “When are the warriors arriving?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

She lifted her gaze, her lips curving into a small smile. "Justin," she greeted smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I leaned back, letting my posture convey ease. "I think you and I might have something in common." She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "Do we?" "A common problem," I clarified, The waiter had come to take my order immediately I sat down and I just ordered whisky for now. He had just brought the glass to our table momentarily cutting me off from what I was saying to Diana. I waited till he left, and then I continued what I was saying, swirling the glass of whiskey the waiter had just placed in front of me. "Or rather, a common enemy."

she said, her said, her voice fierce, her secret a ghost burning brighter. They geared up, the city’s shadows waiting, the theater a battlefield, Rodriguez's betrayal a new poison. Their united front, their stolen kiss—a beacon, their bond a fire in the dark, their vow to stop Dante—a promise to fight as one. But the Syndicate’s sniper, the Moretti mole, raised the stakes, tension—a storm threatening to break their fragile thread.

Alaric said. A cluster of enemy units shifted. Four pairs forming a defensive block. Nyx leaned back. “And there it is.” Cassian reopened the channel. His grin had returned. “Congratulations,” he said. “We’re the enemy.” Nyx raised her cup of water like a toast. “Cheers.” The next hour turned vicious. The coalition hit them from three sides. Territories flickered red and blue across the board. Supply lines strained.

“Promise me I’m the only enemy you have, Lucien.” “You’re not my enemy,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, and she puts her hands on her hips. “Bullshit.” She pauses, then looks around. “Will I remember this night?” I look at the empty bottle of strong red wine beside her and grimace. “Likely not.” “Alright.” “I’m not your enemy…”

Manik’s words were sarcastic. “Fuck! He didn’t have to be so blunt with everything. But I guess he’s dropping the idea. There’s no way he would like to keep any connection with me after this. That’s good.” But her bubble was broken when she heard his next words. “Why don't you just admit we both have a sleeping with the enemy kink? What’s there to deny here? It’s gonna be among us only.” He continued in a serious tone. “Damn it! Why the fuck he is not ready to drop the idea? What’s so difficult to let go of the idea?”

"Drink your coffee. We have a war to start." Damien appeared in the kitchen doorway. He looked at Rain. At Cole. At something in the air between them that told him what had happened without words. Something in his expression settled. He sat at the counter. Accepted the coffee Cole slid toward him. The three of them sat in the early morning kitchen and drank their coffee in a silence that was not uncomfortable at all. Outside the city was waking up. In eight hours, they would walk into Marcus Calloway's compound. In eight hours, Rain would stand in a room she was never supposed to be strong enough to stand in — her mother's words, Lily's words, her wolf's certainty — and face the man who had

He looked at me with a smirk, knowing full well what he was doing. I glared at him, refusing to play along. "I don’t drink with my enemies," I said coldly, my voice laced with contempt. He laughed—a low, casual laugh that made my skin crawl. "Your enemy? Or your country’s enemy?" he asked, raising his glass to his lips and taking a slow sip. He winked at me, as if he had just told a private joke I wasn’t in on. It was infuriating. I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. This was all a game to him, and I had no idea what his next move was. But whatever it was, I wasn’t about to let him toy with us any longer without getting something in return.