Mated To The Enemy

CHAPTER 1

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, tilting my head to the side as I assess myself. Biting my bottom lip, I ponder whether I've chosen the perfect dress for tonight. The lime-colored tulle dress boasts draped asymmetrical cutouts and a statement shoulder, complemented by an open sleeve. Marie, my wolf, insists it's beautiful, assuring me that everyone will be dazzled by it. Still, doubts linger.

The Alpha kids have a way of making me feel inferior, even in a thousand-dollar gown. Though they never express it to my face, their silent judgments are evident. It's written all over their faces. However, I refuse to let it affect me. Despite the doubts, I know I'm rocking this dress, and I'll confidently stride into that room as if I own it. Let them think what they want; tonight, I'm showcasing a different kind of strength—one that doesn't crumble under their unspoken criticisms.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” a warm voice whisper behind me. I glance in the mirror and catch Mom entering my room. Her beautiful blonde hair, a trait I inherited, is elegantly styled with a slick middle-down part and super straight strands. In contrast, my own locks are fashioned in a teased chignon with loose tendrils framing my face. A small smile plays on my lips. Mom always knows just what to say to make me feel better. It must be a mom thing.

"Thank you, Mom," I reply, turning around to face her.

"Gosh, you resemble me so much when I was younger," she remarks, taking my hand in hers. Mom’s gorgeous sky-blue eyes, which I also stole from her, sparkle with adoration.

"I doubt Dad would say the same," I quip.

"That's his business," she chuckles. "C’mon, let’s go. I don’t want your father giving me an earful about how we ladies take forever to get ready." She grabs my hand, and together, we make our way out of the room.

Descending the sweeping staircase, we join Dad at the foot. He doesn’t see Mom and me approaching as he is typing on his phone. Being a billionaire and an Alpha king keeps him busy. He is dressed nicely in a black tux with his raven black hair gelled back.

"Happy birthday, Dad," I greet. He's hitting the big 5-0 today.

"Thank you, baby girl," he responds, pocketing his phone and wrapping his arms around Mom’s waist. Nuzzling into the nape of her neck, he takes a deep inhale, murmuring words against her skin that bring a smile to Mom's face. I feel a tug in my heart watching them. It's been four years since I turned 18, but I still haven’t found my mate. My werewolf college classmates assume it’s because I'm cursed, and with each passing year, I can’t help and fear they might be right especially with my family’s history. I know four years isn’t a lot, but when everyone you grew up with is already mated, you feel like it’s more.