Chapter 1: Enemy Lines

hey told me the bond between a vampire princess and a werewolf Alpha was a death sentence—an abomination that defied centuries of blood-soaked history. To me, it was a prison. The moment our souls snapped together, I became a captive to the one man I was sworn to destroy.

He rejected me. Humiliated me. Pushed me away even as the invisible chain between us pulled him closer. My mind screams to hate him, but my body aches for his touch. My soul cries for freedom, but his is the only presence that can calm the storm inside me.

This is not a fairy tale. This is a war fought in the space between a heartbeat and a betrayal, between a whispered promise and a shattered vow. The world wants us to be enemies. Our hearts have a different plan.

How can something that feels so right, be the very thing that could destroy us all?

*****

The scent of pine and damp earth filled the cold night air, a stark contrast to the coppery tang of blood that already coated my tongue. I moved through the shadows of the forest, a phantom against the moon-dappled foliage. My target: a pack of Silvermane wolves that had crossed into our territory again. The centuries-old treaty was little more than parchment to these brutes, and tonight, I was the enforcement.

Then I saw him.

Kaelus. The Silvermane Alpha himself. He stood tall, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the full moon, silver hair almost glowing. Even from this distance, the raw power radiating from him was a physical pressure against my skin. His grey eyes, cold and sharp as shards of ice, scanned the forest. He was hunting. And I was his prey.

Or so he thought.

A cruel smile touched my lips. Taking down an Alpha would send a message the Silvermanes couldn't ignore. I launched myself from the shadows, a blur of deadly intent. My speed was my greatest weapon, a vampire’s birthright.

He was faster.

He pivoted with impossible grace, his own massive form evading my strike. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound that should have inspired primal fear. Instead, it ignited a fire in my veins. Our eyes met—my crimson gaze clashing with his stormy grey. Hatred, pure and ancient, crackled between us.

“Foolish leech,” he snarled, his voice like grinding stone. “You come alone to your death?”

“Confident, mutt,” I retorted, circling him. “But even an Alpha can bleed.”

We clashed. It was a whirlwind of fury and precision. My claws met his, the sound like steel on flint. He was immensely strong, each blow jarring my bones. But I was agile, using his momentum against him, leaving shallow cuts on his arms and torso. He was relentless, his attacks fueled by a deep-seated loathing that mirrored my own. This was the dance of our kinds, written in blood and moonlight.

Suddenly, a sharp, foreign scent hit my nostrils—not wolf, not vampire. Witchbane. And the air hummed with malicious energy. Before I could process it, figures cloaked in dark robes emerged from the trees, surrounding us. Rogue witch hunters. They cared nothing for our feud; they sought to destroy all supernaturals.

An arrow imbued with dark magic shot towards Kaelus’s exposed back. It was a killing shot. My body moved before my mind could comprehend the insanity of the action. I shoved him aside, taking the arrow deep in my shoulder. Agony, laced with corrosive magic, exploded through me. I cried out, stumbling.

Kaelus stared at me, his cold mask shattered by pure, unadulterated shock. I had saved him. His enemy. Why? The question was a scream in both our eyes.

The hunters closed in. Snarling, Kaelus positioned himself over my kneeling form, a protective barrier between me and our common enemy. The irony was thick enough to choke on.

“Get up,” he growled, his voice tight. “We finish this, then we settle ours.”

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I rose. Enemy lines were redrawn in an instant. Back-to-back, a vampire and a wolf, we fought. His brute force complemented my lethal speed. It was terrifyingly efficient. When the last hunter fell, a strained silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by our ragged breaths.

The weight of what we’d done settled heavily. He turned to face me, his gaze a turbulent storm of conflict. I was weak, bleeding, vulnerable. He could end me now with a single swipe of his claws. It would be the logical, the expected, thing to do.

He took a step closer. I flinched, bracing for the blow. But his hand didn’t rise to strike. Instead, he stared at the dark blood staining my dress, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might break.

“The arrowhead is cursed,” he said, his tone gruff, devoid of its earlier venom. “You’ll die if it’s not removed and the wound purified with… specific methods.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “My kind’s methods.”

A cold dread that had nothing to do with my injury seeped into me. He was suggesting taking me to his territory. It was a death sentence, or a fate far worse.

“No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’d rather die here.”

He finally looked at me, and the conflict in his eyes was a mirror of my own terror. “That’s not an option,” he said, his voice low. “You saved my life. A Silvermane does not leave a debt unpaid. Even to a vampire.” He moved swiftly, before I could protest further, and scooped me into his arms.

The contact was electric. And utterly repulsive. My skin crawled where it touched his. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to flee. His body was furnace-hot against my unnatural coolness. It was wrong. It was…

A strange, faint warmth bloomed where his skin pressed against mine, a confusing counterpoint to the agony in my shoulder. I shuddered, turning my face away from the scent of wolf and wilderness that clung to him.

“This is a mistake, Alpha,” I managed to say, my pride the last shield I had.

He adjusted his grip, his touch impersonal yet inescapable. “Probably,” he agreed, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “But it’s the only one we’ve got. Don’t make me regret this more than I already do, Princess.”

As he carried me deeper into enemy territory, the moon our only witness, I knew one thing for certain: the arrow was the least of my worries. Whatever was beginning tonight, this fragile, hateful truce, felt far more dangerous. It felt like a first step off a precipice.