Sipping With The Enemy Novels & Stories

"Great. It's much more interesting to be enemies with you than to be friends." "I hope you still feel the same when you lose." Stephen bent down and picked up a glass of whiskey. "This is a thank you for all the help you've given at the mines." With that, he downed the glass swiftly. Then, he placed the glass on the table heavily and looked Cory in the eyes. He said slowly, "We're even. From now on, we're enemies." "Great," Cory responded. He also finished the whiskey in his glass. When he placed the glass down, Stephen had already left.

"You guys just suddenly jumped in with a couple of strangers, werewolves even. But, um, we aren't always like this." From the front seat, Zack had a confused look on his face that shifted to one of disapproval. He then turned his head around just enough to lock eyes with Sarah and gave her a hard stare to warn her. He scolded, "Sarah, no talking to the enemy." Sarah averted her gaze from him and rolled her eyes. She responded sarcastically, "Sure, it's fine to ride in a van full of them, but a friendly conversation isn't optional."

"There shall be a feast tonight! Never had we been able to drive our enemies up to the valley which I am told they had been driven to, today. I am immensely grateful and I shall not keep from making merry.” “As it is obvious, we are a small pack living in peace and harmony away from the rest of the aggressive war. But as much as we run away from the constant wars of other tribes, they always come at us with the cruelest intentions.” “To steal our crops and to abduct our young women who are my daughters. Today, we celebrate victory over them and we are assured of even more victories to come in the future." As he spoke, a glass of wine had been filled and placed on the stool beside him and so

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 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.

“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.