Mated To The Enemy (Previously TVKWP)

CHAPTER 7

AMELIA

As I sprint through the forest, my ears pick up on the rhythmic sound of footsteps following closely behind me. Panic sets in shit – they must have seen through my ruse. My pace quickens, though I'm certain I'm already pushing myself to the limits of my speed. The sounds of pursuit draw nearer, accompanied by an unsettling scent permeating the air – the unmistakable aroma of vampires. No, they can't catch me.

I decide to take a risk, recognizing it as my only hope at this moment. I come to a quick stop, reaching for my shirt to take it off. Shifting requires undressing first; I don't have spare clothes to change into once I shift back, and I'd ruin this one if I shift without removing them first. The footsteps grow louder, and the urgency intensifies. The forest around me seems to hold its breath. Just at that moment, a thud echoes behind me, signaling someone's abrupt landing. The rich scent of rainforest envelops me, and my eyes widen in fear. He found me.

He seizes me by the neck, wrenching me around before I can draw my next breath. My mate stands before me, fury blazing in his eyes, his nose flaring as he pants heavily. A surge of trepidation courses through me, uncertain of what punishment awaits me for attempting to escape. I brace myself for an impending storm of retribution.

With measured steps, I begin to back away, but my foot collides with an unseen obstacle, sending me sprawling into a mud-covered heap. My clothes and body bear the stains, yet my sole focus remains on putting distance between myself and his murderous gaze. My fingernails grip dirt as I claw my way backward, desperation fueling my escape.

I observe my mate reaching for me on the ground, terror coursing through me. In a frantic attempt to evade his grasp, I twist around, only to feel him seize me by the hair, lifting me from the ground. He presses me against his chest. Tremors of fear course through my body as his warm chest meets my back, and his fangs brush against the rapidly pulsating vein on my neck. My breath catches. He's going to kill me.

I shut my eyes, silently praying to the heavens that the pain won't be as excruciating as the tales I've heard. I don't deserve a painful death.

"I should fucking kill you," he snarls, his hot breath brushing against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The baby hairs on my neck stand at attention, a silent testament to the fear coursing through me.

"Plea-s-se don't," I stutter, my heart pounding so loudly it's almost comical how he doesn't seem to mind.

I scream as his fangs puncture my skin, thrashing against him in a futile attempt to free myself. He holds me firmly, nails digging into my waist to secure his grip. Desperation fuels me as I repeatedly hit my elbow against his stomach, but it proves futile. Blood trickles down my neck, staining my shirt and marking the grim reality of my dire situation.

My eyes grow heavy, struggling to stay open as I feel my strength wane with each passing second. Tears stream down my cheeks, a silent testimony to the ache in my heart. It's unfathomable that my mate, the one meant to be my protector, is now the one draining the life out of me. Never in a million years did I envision this dreadful fate.

The ache in my heart intensifies as my body weakens to the point where standing becomes an impossible feat, and I surrender, melting against him. My eyes close involuntarily, and I brace myself for the inevitable. I patiently wait for the final embrace of death, a cruel destiny I never anticipated from the one I thought would be my eternal partner.

A sudden shift occurs; his fangs retreat from my neck. The warmth against my back slowly dissipates, and the absence of his hard chest against mine is palpable. Struggling to keep my eyes fully open, I manage to open them, but the world remains a hazy blur. My vision is clouded, and I can't discern the events unfolding around me, but I sense a presence in front of me.

The weight of my legs gives way, but instead of plummeting to the ground, I find myself being lifted into someone's arms, cradled in a bridal style. Through the foggy haze, I notice features that bear a resemblance to my mate's, yet uncertainty lingers. It's unclear whether it's him or someone else who has come to my aid in this critical moment.

I fix my gaze on the person through my half-opened eyes, and a surge of tears wells up as I observe their lips stained with blood. It's Nickolas. The painful realization that he fed on me and nearly ended my life hits me like a tidal wave. My body quivers against his, and tears cascade down my face unabated. The sight of him, his face void of emotion, only intensifies the ache in my heart. There's no remorse in his eyes, no regret for the harm he inflicted.

My heart clenches tighter in my chest as I grapple with the bitter truth – he doesn't even regret what he did. Anger courses through me, fueled by the frustration of being hurt by someone who seems unaffected by their own actions. Asshole! I hate that I'm hurt by what he did, and he isn't. I wish I hated him as much as he hates me. Maybe then, I wouldn't care about anything he does to me. Pushing back tears, I realize he's not even worth them, and I'm certain they only fuel his stupid ego.

Nickolas walks us back to the palace and into a room, gently laying me on the bed. I turn away from him, not wanting to see his face right now. But his presence looms over me, feeling the heat of his body as he stands beside the bed. His gaze bores holes into the back of my head. Thoughts swirl in my mind, questioning his lingering presence. Is he contemplating whether to complete what he started?

Yes, the sentence is correct, but for better flow, you might consider slight adjustments:

Turning back around, I open my mouth to confront him, but an unexpected guest rudely enters the room before I can utter a word. A woman bursts in, her 5-inch red-bottomed Louis Vuitton heels clicking against the marble floor. She strides over to Nickolas and forcefully presses her lips against his.

Frozen in disbelief, I watch as Nickolas tense, gripping her arms with nails digging into her skin. He forcefully throws her off, glaring at her in silence. Unfazed, she smiles and uses her finger to clean some of the blood from the side of his lips.

"Hmm, amazing," she moans, licking my blood off her finger. "I can't believe you drank without me, baby," she adds, seemingly unperturbed.

"What are you doing here, Ember?" Nickolas questions, releasing her arm.

"Who is this, baby?" she asks, ignoring his question and approaching me by the bed. Her scent invades my nose, prompting me to scrunch it in disgust. I'm not particularly fond of her scent.

"My mate," Nickolas grumbles, his jaw tight, as if saying those words was hard. I gaze at him, tears welling up, but I sniffle and push them back. He isn't worth my tears.

"So, she's the werewolf princess," Ember remarks, excitement evident in her tone. It strikes me as odd. "She does look like Queen Jane, as everyone says, but she is the uglier version of her." She stares at me, a sinful smile playing on her lips and a hint of jealousy flickering in her eyes. It's almost imperceptible, but I catch it – she harbors resentment towards me. My mate remains silent but seizes her arm.

"Let's go," he says, pulling her away.

Ember, however, doesn't move immediately, locking her gaze with mine. "I'll be back for you, princess," She winks at me before linking her hand with Nickolas and walking out with him.

An eerie feeling settles within me at her words, prompting me to say a prayer to the heavens, desperately wishing never to meet her.