Falling for My Shifter Enemy (Wild & Forbidden Mates #4)

Chapter 6

Chloé

The familiar scent of pine and earth fills my lungs as I step out of Ryan's car, back on Whispering Pines territory. Home. The word feels hollow now, tainted by the constant ache in my chest where the mate bond pulses like an open wound. Each breath brings a fresh wave of longing, pulling me northward toward Howling Pines territory. Toward him.

"Welcome back," Ryan says softly, his hand squeezing my shoulder. His touch carries the weight of pack bonds and childhood friendship, but even that feels different now. Changed. Like everything else since Theo. The Alpha energy that radiates from him—once so comforting—feels almost foreign against my skin.

"Thanks for coming to get me yourself," I manage, forcing myself to meet his concerned gaze. My voice sounds strange to my own ears, like it belongs to someone else. "You didn't have to."

"Of course I did." Ryan's eyes search my face, and I see the questions he's holding back, feel them pressing against the edges of our pack bond. "You're pack, Chloé. And after what happened with Mark..."

Pack members emerge from the main house, their faces a mix of relief and barely concealed curiosity. I accept their hugs and welcome-backs with practiced grace. But beneath each embrace, each concerned look, I feel the weight of what they don't know—that their submissive packmate is mated to their rival Alpha.

Or rather, rejected by him. The thought sends another pulse of pain through the bond, sharp enough to make me wince.

"You had us worried sick," Sarah, one of the younger wolves, says as she pulls back from a hug. Her nose twitches slightly, and I watch as her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. She can smell him on me—the distinct scent of pine, leather, and raw power that clings to my skin like a brand. "When we heard Theo Waverly had you—"

"It wasn't like that," I cut in, perhaps too sharply. The mere mention of his name sends a jolt through the bond, like touching a live wire. My hands tremble slightly, and I clench them into fists. "He protected me from Mark. That's all."

Ryan's eyes narrow slightly at my tone, and I feel his Alpha energy brush against my consciousness—gentle, questioning. Like fingers probing a wound to assess its depth. But he doesn't push. Instead, he guides me toward the house, falling easily into his role as protective Alpha. "You should rest. We can talk about everything tomorrow."

But rest doesn't come. I lie awake in my bed, staring at the familiar ceiling of my room, feeling anything but at home. The mate bond tugs insistently, like an invisible thread stitched through my heart, pulling me toward the north. The moon, not yet full but growing stronger each night, seems to amplify the connection.

Alpha, my wolf whimpers, curling tighter within me. We need him. Why are we so far from him?

Every time I close my eyes, I see his face—the way he looked at me in his office, torn between desire and duty. The way his voice broke when he rejected me. The memory burns like acid in my chest, and my wolf keens mournfully, her pain mingling with my own.

The next few days pass in a blur of concerned looks and whispered conversations that stop when I enter a room. The pack house feels smaller somehow, more confining, as if the walls themselves are closing in around me.

I throw myself into my writing, trying to lose myself in fictional worlds where mates don't reject each other and submissive wolves aren't seen as weak. But even my characters betray me, taking on amber eyes and speaking in deep, gravelly voices that echo through my dreams. The words I type blur together, every story turning into our story—the one that ended before it truly began.

It's Zoe who finally breaks through my self-imposed isolation, barging into my room with two steaming cups of coffee and determination written across her face. The scent of hazelnut and vanilla—my favorite—fills the air, momentarily drowning out the constant pine-and-leather scent that haunts me.

"Okay, spill," she demands, settling cross-legged on my bed. Her long dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and her eyes—warm and familiar—hold nothing but concern. The bed dips under her weight. "What really happened with Theo?"

I wrap my hands around the warm mug, avoiding her eyes. The ceramic burns against my palms, but the pain is almost welcome—a distraction from the constant ache of the bond. "Nothing happened."

"Bullshit." She leans forward, her expression softening. "Something's different. You're different.”

The dam breaks. Words pour out of me—the kidnapping, the rescue, the way Theo's presence seemed to fill every room. The mate bond, humming between us like a living thing. The rejection that felt like having my heart carved out of my chest. As I speak, the bond pulses with each memory, as if responding to the sound of his name on my lips. My coffee grows cold, forgotten in my trembling hands.

"He rejected you?" Zoe's voice turns sharp, protective anger flashing in her eyes. "That arrogant, self-righteous—"

"Don't." The word comes out sharper than intended, and the mate bond flares in response, sending a wave of possessive energy through my body. Even now, even after everything, I can't bear to hear him criticized. My hands clench around the mug so tightly I'm afraid it might shatter. "He thought he was protecting me."

"From what? His own prejudice?" Zoe shakes her head, her coffee forgotten on my nightstand. "The full moon run is coming up. I heard Ryan talking—both packs will be running together this year because of the human threat."

My heart stutters. "What?"

"Theo reached out to Ryan. They're coordinating to keep everyone safe." She grabs my hand, squeezing it. The warmth of her touch grounds me as the bond thrums with renewed intensity. "Hunters have been spotted near the ridge. Neither pack can afford to run alone." Her eyes light up with sudden purpose. "You should come."

"I can't shift, Zoe. You know that." The words taste bitter, familiar as an old scar. I've said them so many times over the years, each repetition a reminder of what I lack.

"So what?" She squeezes my hand harder, her eyes fierce with conviction. "You're stronger than you think, Chloé. You don't need to shift to show them that. To show him that." Her words sink into me, finding purchase in places I thought had gone numb. "Being yourself doesn't make you weak. Sometimes it makes you stronger."

Her words stay with me as the full moon approaches. The pull of the mate bond grows stronger with each passing day, as if responding to the moon's influence. Every night, I dream of amber eyes and strong hands, waking with an ache that goes bone-deep. The moon calls to my wolf in a way it never has before, as if Theo's rejection has awakened something in my blood that refuses to be denied. Each night, I stand at my window, watching the moon grow fuller, feeling the way it amplifies the bond until I can barely breathe through the intensity.

The night of the run arrives too quickly. I stand on the edge of the clearing, watching as the Howling Pines and Whispering Pines wolves gather together, their eyes gleaming in the moonlight, bodies twitching with barely contained anticipation. The air is thick with tension—both packs united under a temporary truce, yet the rivalry still simmers beneath the surface. It’s strange to see them like this, side by side, the uneasy peace hanging in the air like a storm ready to break.

The moon looms large and full overhead, casting its silvery glow over the ridge, and I can feel the pull of it deep in my bones. The energy of the night thrums through the forest, a wild pulse that I can’t quite grasp, but it’s there, just out of reach. It’s the night of the full moon run, and the wolves around me—my pack, Theo’s pack—are ready to let go, to run free beneath the moon’s gaze.

I watch as the first wolves begin to shift, their bodies contorting, bones cracking with an eerie grace. Fur sprouts from skin, and within moments, powerful wolves stand where humans once were. It’s both beautiful and terrifying, this transformation. My heart clenches with a familiar ache as I watch them—an ache that’s been with me for as long as I can remember.

I can’t shift.

The thought hammers through me, raw and painful. They get to run, to feel the earth beneath their paws, the wind in their fur. But me? I’m just…stuck. A human among wolves. Always on the outside, always watching.

I dig my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself. I belong here, I remind myself. This is my pack. Even if I can’t shift, even if I’ll never feel that wild freedom they do, I’m still a part of this.

Across the clearing, my eyes catch on a figure towering above the others. Theo. He hasn’t shifted yet, but even in his human form, he’s impossible to miss. His dark auburn hair gleams under the moonlight, his broad shoulders squared, exuding raw power and command. He’s every bit the Alpha, and as his piercing amber eyes find mine, my breath catches in my throat.

The mate bond flares to life, crackling between us like an electrical current. My skin tingles, my heart pounds in time with his, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. It’s just him and me, bound together by something neither of us can control, something that’s both a blessing and a curse.

Theo’s gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t soften. But I see the conflict in his eyes—the way his jaw clenches, as if he’s fighting against the very thing that draws us together. The rejection still burns between us like an open wound, but the bond doesn’t care. It pulses, alive and relentless, reminding me that no matter what he said, we are bound.

I want to look away, to break the connection, but I can’t. His presence is a gravitational force, pulling me toward him, even when I know I shouldn’t want it. My chest tightens, the ache of longing so sharp that I press a hand to my heart, trying to keep it from shattering all over again.

Theo shifts then, his body cracking and bending with the same brutal grace as the others. A massive wolf stands in his place, deep brown fur shimmering under the moonlight, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. For a moment, he doesn’t move, just stands there, watching me. His presence fills the night, overwhelming and impossible to ignore. I feel him in my blood, in my bones.

Then, without a sound, he turns and disappears into the forest, leading his pack into the shadows.