My Fate Mate Is My Arch-enemy

Eira’s POV After losing to Caedmon Thorne for the 101st time, I swore that I would have my revenge—crush him under my heel and humiliate him mercilessly. So I planned to secretly d**g him. I chose Lunarbane Dust. The powder is colorless and odorless, nearly invisible wherever it is scattered—yet once it comes into contact with werewolf blood, it rapidly spreads into large red rashes. I crouched in the shadows outside the window, clutching a pair of gloves that still carried faint traces of Lunarbane Dust, careful not to touch it. Just moments ago, I personally smeared it along the rim of his cup. As long as he drinks—so long as his fingertips brush the side of the cup—I will be able to witness his miserable downfall. Caedmon Thorne is the heir to the Silver Throne of the Argent Moon. He has been my greatest rival since childhood—and my greatest enemy. He sat at the table, reading. Candlelight fell over him, as if plating him in cold silver. That face was unfairly perfect. Long silver-gray hair spilled over his shoulders, each strand catching the light with a moonlit chill. High, clean-cut brows, a straight nose, lips thin yet elegant. A sharp jawline, carrying a predator’s austere edge. Werewolf aesthetics had always been blunt—strength, bloodline, pressure. And he possessed all of it. I held my breath, waiting for him to embarrass himself. I wanted to see a c***k appear on that flawless face. Wanted to see that lofty composure torn open, even if only a little. Ever since he set foot in our territory—the Tideborne Covenant—every gaze had been stolen by him. Even the share that once belonged to me was stripped away completely. I had once been the most outstanding augur. New-moon shared dreams had never failed. Mental threads stable, perception pure. But after he arrived, the elders spoke of only one thing— “He bears royal blood, and he will be the most gifted Alpha in a century.” He stood there without saying a word, and his mental pressure was like seawater receding at low tide, forcing everyone’s breath to the edge. Including mine. As long as he was involved in anything, I ended up being very unlucky. The honor and status I wanted, even just a small trophy, never made it into my hands. I had challenged him more than once, both openly and in secret, but every time it ended in failure. Now my throat tightened. The cup on the table was by his hand. He didn’t look at it. He was turning the pages of a scroll, fingers long and steady. That inborn composure only made me want to see him lose control—just once. Drink. I urged him silently. Drink. At last, he lifted his hand. His fingertips touched the side of the cup. At that instant, I could almost imagine the path the Lunarbane Dust would take as it seeped into his skin— First a faint sting, Then burning heat, Then red rashes crawling up along the wrist bone. I couldn’t help leaning closer by an inch. He raised the cup to his lips. His Adam’s apple rolled. He swallowed the water. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. A full minute passed. No rash. No scratching. I froze. Had the Lunarbane Dust I took expired? Had it lost its potency? Who knew how long it had been sitting in my father’s storeroom? There wasn’t even an expiration date—terrible quality. When I got back, I would make him clear out every expired item in that warehouse. Then, suddenly, a scent unique to him began to spread. It wasn’t the usual aura an Alpha released when asserting dominance. Not cold cedar, nor sharp metallic blood. It was— Warm, nearly scalding moonlight. Like tides surging beneath a full moon, laced with an indescribable sweetness and restlessness, spilling from him without restraint. I had expected rashes, stinging pain, humiliation. But what unfolded before me veered completely off course. He suddenly stiffened. His silver pupils contracted slightly, as if something strange had flared within him. In the candlelight, his originally pale, cool-toned skin slowly flushed with a faint red, spreading from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. His breathing grew heavier, his Adam’s apple rising and falling more noticeably. His fingers tightened around the rim of the cup, knuckles paling, as though he were resisting some sudden instinct. The next instant— Thump. Two wolf ears sprang out from between his silver hair. Not the sharp, erect posture of battle. But standing there—almost obediently. Soft, plush, their fur gleaming with a frosted silver sheen, the tips trembling faintly. I was stunned. This wasn’t right. Lunarbane Dust only caused surface irritation and rashes at most—enough to make someone scratch and lose composure. It could never… never trigger wolf traits. Let alone this— A near loss of control. He drew in a low breath, as if trying to suppress whatever was roiling inside him. Instead, the scent grew stronger. So strong that even through the c***k in the window, I could smell it clearly. My heartbeat suddenly fell out of rhythm. The scent was like a hook, snagging at my nerves. No. This isn’t right. He shot to his feet. The chair scraped harshly against the floor. His silver eyes swept the room, sharp with Alpha’s innate vigilance and pressure. Yet beneath that dominance flickered an unmistakable confusion. He was searching for something. A chill ran down my spine. He walked toward the window. The floor echoed steadily beneath his steps. I instinctively tried to retreat—but a moment too late. The wind outside lifted the ends of my hair. His gaze locked precisely onto the narrow c***k. And met mine. At that instant, I saw his pupils dilate abruptly. “…Eira?” His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a lingering heat. The next moment, the window was flung open. Cold wind swept into the room, and the uncontrolled scent radiating from him hit me all at once. Before I could move back, he had already gripped the window frame, leaning in close. Those frosted silver wolf ears looked impossibly soft in the moonlight, tilting slightly toward me. As if instinctively capturing—capturing my breath. My scent. His gaze landed on my face, lingering far too long. Long enough for the small thrill of my prank to shatter completely. “You—” His words started, then faltered. Deep within his silver eyes stirred an emotion unbearably complex. Strange. Fierce. Almost entirely unmasked. He stared at me as if seeing me truly for the first time. The window sash swung fully open by his hand. Night wind poured in, and before I could react, my wrist was caught—not with brute force, but with a pull that brooked no refusal. A gentle tug, and I lost my balance, pulled entirely inside through the window. My feet stumbled onto the floor. The window behind us closed, shutting out the night. I looked up sharply. Too close. Before, whenever we met, the air between us always sparked—mockery, provocation, unhidden hostility. But today was different. The way he looked at me was no longer cold, nor an elevated scrutiny. It was… a focus that made my chest tighten. His scent still spread. Thick, warm, like tides baked under moonlight, pressing inch by inch against my skin. I instinctively stepped back half a pace, only to be cornered against the table. He lowered his head. Too close. Those frosted silver wolf ears tipped slightly forward, pupils dark and heavy, his gaze fixed on my lips, lingering dangerously, boldly. And then I realized— His movement was not questioning. It was… intending to kiss. Or worse. The instinct to mark. My heart slammed. I shoved him away with all my strength. “Caedmon!”