Claimed By The Enemy

The bonfire crackled beneath the full moon, casting golden light over the gathered wolves of Blackwood Pack. The air was thick with celebration, music, and the scent of roasted meat and pine smoke. Tonight was the Mating Moon, the sacred night when destined mates made their bonds official.

It should have been the happiest night of Liana Hayes’ life.

Instead, her stomach churned as she stood at the edge of the clearing, her fingers gripping a silver goblet of spiced wine she hadn’t tasted. Her long black curls cascaded down her back in soft waves, and her dress—white, silky, sl*t high up her thigh—was meant to symbolize purity and power. But right now, she just felt like a fool in silk.

Because Jaxon wasn’t looking at her.

He was across the fire, laughing with someone else. And not just anyone. Talia, her best friend since they were pups.

Liana’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the two of them talk, too close. Jaxon’s hand brushed Talia’s arm. Talia smiled up at him like he’d just given her the moon. Then, before Liana could blink, he leaned down—and kissed her.

Not a friendly, half-hearted kiss. No. It was a slow, deliberate press of lips. The kind of kiss that meant something.

The goblet slipped from Liana’s fingers and shattered against the packed earth.

No one noticed over the music.

Her breath caught, chest tightening with disbelief. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be real. Not tonight. Not him. The Moon Goddess didn’t make mistakes. Jaxon was her fated mate. He’d told her that himself. They were to bond tonight, their wolves sealed under the light of the moon.

Except his mouth was on Talia, and her hands were buried in his hair.

Liana turned sharply, willing herself not to cry in front of the entire pack. She didn’t want to run, but staying felt like suffocating.

The clearing blurred as she slipped past bodies and laughter. She didn’t stop until she’d made it into the woods, where the trees swallowed the light and her pulse could finally slow.

Her wolf whimpered, confusion rippling through her soul. It hurt—a deep, clawing pain in her chest she hadn’t expected.

She ended up outside the pack’s borders without realizing it, standing before an old wooden tavern nestled between the trees. Its porch light flickered, the sign swinging in the night breeze. The Broken Fang. A place for rogues, outcasts, and those who didn’t belong.

Perfect.

She pushed through the door. Warmth, music, and the clatter of mugs greeted her. Nobody looked twice at the girl in the silk dress with wild eyes and a storm inside her. Good.

She ordered the strongest drink they had. Then another. And another.

By the time her head started to swim, her heartbreak was fuzzy at the edges.

“You don’t look like the kind of girl who drinks alone,” a low voice said beside her.

Liana turned and stared into the most arresting pair of eyes she’d ever seen. Stormy blue. Sharp as a blade, framed by thick lashes. The man they belonged to was tall and broad, with hair like obsidian and stubble across his jaw. Dangerous. Magnetic.

A stranger.

“I didn’t used to,” she murmured. “Things change.”

He arched a brow, a crooked smirk lifting one corner of his lips. “Lucky for me.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she said, tipping her glass. “I bite.”

His grin deepened. “So do I.”

She should’ve walked away. Should’ve said no. But the pain in her chest demanded distraction, and he offered exactly that.

One more drink. One more dance. Then darkness.

The next memory was him pressing her against the wall of a lodge room—hands roaming, mouth claiming hers. His scent, wild and earthy, wrapped around her like a drug. Her wolf surged, drawn to him in a way she didn’t understand.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against her skin.

She didn’t.

She pulled him closer.

Liana woke with sunlight cutting across her face. Her body ached—in the best way. Her throat was dry. The sheets tangled around her bare legs. She sat up, blinking at the empty space beside her.

He was gone.

No name. No note. Just the faint scent of pine and smoke on the pillow and a single black feather beside it.

Her cheeks flushed as flashes from the night before hit her like lightning. The things he’d whispered. The way he’d said her name like it belonged to him.

Oh, goddess.

She grabbed her dress and pulled it on, ignoring the sting in her chest as she fled the lodge. Shame chased her all the way home.

Three days passed.

Jaxon and Talia made their relationship official. The entire pack celebrated as if nothing was wrong. As if Liana hadn’t been cast aside for her own best friend.

Her father, Beta Marcus, urged her to move on. “If Jaxon made his choice, then the Moon Goddess has another path for you.”

Liana had nodded. Smiled. Pretended to be fine.

She was not fine.

And nothing prepared her for what happened next.

The pack held a summit every month to discuss alliances and border threats. Liana stood beside her father, silent as Alpha Jaxon spoke of peace and future expansion.

Then the crowd parted.

A tall figure strode into the clearing, every movement confident and smooth. His presence silenced the pack instantly.

Liana’s breath hitched.

Him.

The man from that night.

Only this time, he wasn’t dressed for shadows and taverns. He wore a black jacket with silver detailing and bore the unmistakable aura of authority.

His eyes found hers—and held.

Her heart stopped.

“Ryker Duskbane,” he said loudly, addressing the Alpha and pack. “Son of Alpha Markus Blackwood. Blood heir to the Blackwood line. I’m here to challenge Jaxon Blackwood for leadership of this pack.”

Gasps erupted around them.

Jaxon’s face twisted in confusion and rage. “That’s impossible. Markus died with his mate and son. Their bodies were—”

“Burned. Staged. But I survived,” Ryker cut in coldly. “And by blood, I have every right to lead.”

Liana couldn’t breathe.

He wasn’t just some rogue. He was Jaxon’s lost cousin. An heir.

And she’d slept with him.

Later that night, Liana stood in her room, staring at the mark on her collarbone. Faint. Silvery. Shaped like a crescent moon.

The Mark of the Fated.

Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, restless and alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

Not with Jaxon. Not ever.

She backed away from the mirror like it had burned her.

This wasn’t just a mistake.

She wasn’t just Ryker’s lover.

She was his mate.

Liana didn’t remember walking back to the packhouse.

Her legs carried her through the dense pines, past the heavy scent of wolf and sweat clinging to the training grounds, until she reached the privacy of her room. Only then did she let herself breathe.

Ryker.

The name echoed in her mind like thunder rolling over distant hills.

He wasn’t just a stranger from a reckless night. He wasn’t just a man with a sinful mouth and haunted eyes.

He was Jaxon’s cousin.

A lost heir. A ghost returned.

And—somehow—her mate.

She pressed trembling fingers to her lips, still tasting him there, like he hadn’t been a mistake but a memory her body clung to.

Liana paced the room, heart hammering, her wolf pacing just beneath her skin.

You felt it, her wolf whispered. The bond. The truth.

She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t.

This wasn’t how her life was supposed to go. She had trained her whole life to stand at Jaxon’s side. To tak