Lahat ng Kabanata ng Mated To My Enemies! Lycan Kings Obsession : Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

Mira’s POVA shrill note from a flute shattered the silence of my sleep, jolting me awake. My eyes flew open, and for a moment, I was too disoriented to react. Then the realization hit me—I was being woken up. And not in a gentle manner. My body tensed as anger flooded through me. Who dared disturb my rest?I shot up from my bed, my heart pounding in irritation, and my gaze landed on a guard standing stiffly near the doorway, the wooden flute still in his hands. My glare could have burned a hole through him.“What in the gods’ names do you think you’re doing?” I snapped, throwing my blanket off me.The guard bowed slightly, clearly sensing my fury but not deterred by it. “I was ordered to wake you, Lady Mira,” he said firmly. “Lord Rowan instructed me to ensure you were awake and ready for training.”Rowan. Of course, it was him. Only someone as insufferable and overbearing as Rowan would have the audacity to drag me from sleep in such a ridiculous way. My hands clenched into fists

Mira POV I wiped the sweat from my forehead, smudging soot onto my skin as I handed Damien another tool. The air in the workshop was thick with heat, the scent of burning metal mixing with oil and dust. My muscles ached from bending and lifting, but I didn’t mind. Strangely enough, I enjoyed this—watching Damien work, seeing how his hands moved with precise intent, as if he were shaping something far greater than just a tool. He was brilliant, there was no denying that.“You don’t usually have someone helping you with all this, do you?” I asked, glancing around at the organized chaos of blueprints, gears, and half-finished contraptions scattered across the workbenches.Damien barely glanced up as he adjusted a clamp on the metal piece he was working on. “No. I work alone.”I arched an eyebrow. “Why?”He shrugged, tightening the clamp before reaching for a hammer. “People can be distracting.”I placed a hand over my chest in mock offense. “Are you saying I’m distracting?”Damie

Lucian’s POV I had just finished my meditation, my mind momentarily at peace, though the storm within me never truly settled. Afterward, I decided to take a shower before returning to my painting. The rhythmic sound of water cascading over me did little to wash away the weight I carried—memories, responsibilities, and the undeniable pull toward the one person I shouldn’t crave so desperately.When I stepped out of the bath, steam clung to my skin as I reached for a towel, running it over my damp hair before wrapping it loosely around my waist. My chambers were silent, just as I preferred them. Or so I thought.As I turned toward my bed, movement caught my eye.Mira.She was standing near the paintings, her back partially turned, but I could see the moment she froze—her entire body going rigid as her gaze locked onto mine. Or rather, onto the bare expanse of my chest, trailing lower until she abruptly looked away.I didn’t move. Neither did she.A tense silence filled the room,

Mira POV I woke up feeling warm, wrapped in a cocoon of heat and comfort. My body was tangled with another’s, and for a fleeting moment, I didn’t question it. I sank deeper into the warmth, my fingers absentmindedly tracing firm, smooth skin. It felt… right.Then I heard a deep chuckle, and reality struck me like a bolt of lightning.My eyes snapped open, and I was met with the sight of Lucian’s bare chest beneath my hand. His arm was wrapped securely around my waist, and the moment our eyes met, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.“Good morning, little mate. How was your night? Hope you had a peaceful and wonderful rest.” His voice was husky, laced with amusement as he grinned at me.I gasped and shot up, scrambling away from him as if burned. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and the events of last night came rushing back in vivid detail—the way he touched me, the way I let him, the way I had completely lost control.What have I done?I yanked the sheets around me and tur

Mira POV I lingered by the doorway, my breath shallow as I watched the scene unfold before me. The peasant man knelt in the center of the council chamber, his frail hands clutching his cap to his chest, his shoulders trembling. His face was pale with desperation, his voice hoarse as he pleaded. “Please, my lords,” he begged, his words barely above a whisper. “My family is starving. If I could just have a small loan from the crown—just enough to buy food from the next village during the upcoming market day. I swear on my life, I will pay it back in full.” The room fell into a heavy silence. I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the stone wall as I peered inside. The councilmen exchanged glances, some sneering, others indifferent. They were all dressed in their expensive cloaks, their fingers adorned with gold rings, while the man kneeling before them looked like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. “Do we look like a loan house to you?” one of the older councilmen s