Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 94

ARIA

"We will," Kael promised. "I'll make sure of it. Whatever else is happening, we need to prioritize our bond. Otherwise we'll lose ourselves to the constant crises and never actually build what we're supposed to be building."

We gathered herbs after that, working together to identify and collect the specimens that would replenish the healing stores. Kael's knowledge surprised me—he could name nearly every plant we encountered, knew their medicinal properties and optimal harvesting techniques.

"Ivory taught me," he explained when I commented on it. "During the years I was cursed. She'd talk to me about her work, explain what she was researching, share her discoveries. I think it helped her process things, having someone to explain her ideas to. And it gave me something to focus on besides the curse."

I nodded, accepting this without comment. It made sense. Of course Ivory had shared her knowledge with Kael during those years. Of course they'd developed that kind of intellectual intimacy alongside everything else.

By the time we headed back to the pack house, the afternoon was fading toward evening. My dress was rumpled and grass-stained, my hair a mess despite my attempts to smooth it, and the marks Kael had left on my neck and collarbone were impossible to hide.

I should have felt embarrassed. Should have been worried about what people would think, seeing their Luna return in obvious dishevelment after spending hours alone with the Alpha.

But mostly I just felt... claimed. Wanted. Like I actually belonged to someone, actually mattered to someone, in a way that wasn't just political convenience.

The reactions when we reached the pack house were immediate and varied. Some pack members glanced at us and quickly looked away, clearly trying to give us privacy. Others—mostly the younger wolves—smirked or nudged each other knowingly. A few of the older members actually smiled with what looked like genuine approval, like seeing their Alpha and Luna obviously intimate was reassuring rather than scandalous.

"They know," I murmured to Kael, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

"Of course they know," he replied, sounding utterly unconcerned. "They can probably smell it too—we reek of each other." He glanced at me, a smile playing at his lips. "Does that bother you?"

I considered the question honestly. "No," I realized. "It doesn't. I thought it would, but... I don't mind them knowing."

"Good," Kael said, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my temple. "Because I plan to make sure they have plenty more to notice in the future."

We made our way through the pack house toward our chambers, passing groups of wolves who all carefully pretended not to notice our state of dishevelment. Martha, the head cook, saw us pass by the kitchen entrance and actually smiled—the first genuine warmth I'd seen from her since I'd arrived.

And then we encountered Ivory.

She was walking down the corridor toward us, heading somewhere with purpose, a leather satchel over her shoulder that probably contained medical supplies or research materials. Her gaze swept over us as we approached—took in my rumpled dress, the marks visible on my neck and collarbone, Kael's own slightly disheveled appearance, the way we walked close together with obvious intimacy.

And she didn't react.

Not at all.

No flicker of emotion crossed her face. No tightening of her expression. No subtle signs of hurt or anger or jealousy or anything at all. She looked at us with the same complete indifference she might show a piece of furniture—acknowledging our presence only enough to step slightly to the side so we could pass more easily in the corridor.

"Alpha Kael. Luna Aria," she said, her tone perfectly neutral, almost bored.

"Ivory," Kael replied, and I felt his slight hesitation through our bond, his uncertainty about how to interact with someone who was treating him like a stranger. "How are the patients today?"

"Recovering well," Ivory said, already moving past us. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to."

And then she was gone, continuing down the corridor without a backward glance, as if we'd never existed at all.

The interaction—or lack thereof—left me feeling oddly hollow. I'd been prepared for hostility. Prepared for pointed comments or cold glares or barely concealed resentment. Instead, I'd gotten nothing. Complete and utter indifference, as if Ivory genuinely didn't care what Kael and I did together.

Maybe she didn't. Maybe, without her memories of loving him, without the weight of their shared history, she really was as unbothered as she appeared. Maybe I'd been worried about competing with someone who wasn't even in the race anymore.

Or maybe she was just very, very good at hiding her reactions.

Through our bond, I felt Kael's complicated response to the encounter. Relief that there hadn't been a confrontation. Hurt at Ivory's continued indifference. Confusion about how to navigate their new dynamic. And underneath it all, that thread of something that felt like loss—mourning a friendship that had apparently ceased to exist even before her memories were taken.