Bound By Fate Mated To The Enemy

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. But I shouldn’t be thinking about this tonight. It will sour my mood, and I don’t want to ruin the night before it starts. I drive the thoughts away and correct Dad about something.

"Dad! We've had this conversation. You can't keep calling me baby girl. I'm 22 years old now. You should only address me by my name," I assert as we move away from the foot of the stairs, heading towards the ballroom in the castle where Dad’s birthday dinner ball is being held.

"I think I have the right to call you whatever I wish, my dear," he retorts with a smile. I huff and roll my eyes in response.

"Caleb's here," Mom interjects, and I turn around to see my elder brother walking toward us.

"Ready, everyone?" Caleb asks, linking his arms with mine once he reaches us by the ballroom entrance. Caleb is the spitting image of our father, except for his blond hair. The same blue eyes and muscular toned body, along with their shared Alpha king aura that that sends everyone trembling.

"Yes," Mom answers and someone inside the ballroom announces our arrival.

The ballroom stands as a hall of magnificence, elegance, and beauty all rolled into one. Crystal chandeliers adorn the ceiling, casting a dazzling glow across the room. Tables and chairs graced every corner, adorned with the finest foods on gleaming plates. Positioned ahead, a band awaited to resume playing the enchanting melody that had accompanied our entrance.

As we make our way through the regal space, heads bow in respectful greeting, acknowledging our presence. My father reciprocates with a gracious expression of gratitude, extending appreciation to all in the room. Once we reach the center, the live band seamlessly resumes playing classical tunes, and the crowd gracefully disperses, creating a sea of conversations and connections. The air is alive with the harmonious blend of music and socialization, creating an atmosphere of grand celebration.

"Where is your mate?" I inquire of Caleb as we walk around the room and away from our parents.

"With her mom," Caleb replies, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter and taking one for me too.

"Is everything all right?" I ask, a touch of concern in my voice.

“Yes, Aunt Ekaterina just wants to ensure she and the baby are fine before she pops next week.”

“That’s good to hear.” I take a sip of my drink and scan the room. I get a few stares from my peers, but I can’t tell if they approve of what I'm wearing or not, but I don’t care. Some unmated younglings gaze lingers a little too closely on my chest and thighs. I don’t know if I should be pleased; they think my body is worth staring at or insulted they have the guts to stare at all.

“Anything?” Caleb says, drawing my attention away from the crowd around me.

"Nope," I reply. Caleb is asking if my wolf picked any unique scent that would mean my mate is here. Alphas bring their unmated to these events. I had been really hoping to find my mate tonight, but it seems that won't be the case.

"Don't worry, you will find him soon," Caleb reassures me with a small smile. I respond with a tight-lipped smile of my own and down the remainder of my drink. A peculiar taste lingers in my mouth after finishing the champagne. I stare at the glass, wondering if something was added to it. I don't feel drugged, but the taste is distinctly off.

"Does your drink taste funny?" I inquire, bringing my empty champagne flute to my nose. It smells normal. Hmm.

"No, why do you ask?" Caleb responds, glancing at his half-empty glass. I consider that I might be overthinking things. Maybe the burrito I had for lunch is playing tricks on my taste buds.

"No reason. Let me go to the bar and get a refill. I'll be back," I inform him and start walking away.