Mated to My Intended's Enemy novel Chapter 224

Chapter 224: Chapter 224 So Close, Yet So Cursed

Silvano’s POV

"The curse is getting worse?" she asked immediately.

"No. Yes. I don’t know." I paced my study, frustration mounting. "But I need a reason to keep Freya in the house. With your presence, she’ll be obligated to stay, to maintain appearances."

My mother’s silence spoke volumes.

"I know it’s manipulative," I admitted. "But I’m losing her, Mother. Every day she slips further away."

"You understand this is exactly what the curse wants?" she finally responded. "To make you desperate enough to force proximity, which will only strengthen its hold?"

"I’ll be careful," I promised. "No direct contact. Just... nearby."

Another long pause. "I’ll come," she finally agreed. "But, Silvano—this is dangerous ground you’re treading."

I knew she was right, but I couldn’t help myself. The thought of Freya completely severing our bond was more terrifying than any curse.

My mother arrived the next day, and as I’d hoped, Freya returned home early from her office. The sight of her—slightly flushed, hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, business attire highlighting her slender figure—made my wolf pace restlessly within me.

Throughout dinner, I forced myself to focus on my phone, afraid that if I looked at her too long, the curse might activate. But I was acutely aware of every movement she made, every subtle shift in her scent. When she answered work messages, jealousy flared again—was she texting Johnny? Xander? Some other man who had the freedom to be close to her when I couldn’t?

After my mother retired for the night, I retreated to my study, needing distance from the temptation Freya presented. I buried myself in pack business, trying to ignore the constant pull toward the woman just down the hall.

Hours later, I finally made my way to the master bedroom.

I was contemplating sleeping elsewhere when I heard the shower running. The sound of water cascading over her body immediately conjured images I’d been trying desperately to suppress. My body responded instantly, a painful reminder of how long it had been since I’d touched her.

Just as I was about to leave, the bathroom door opened. Freya stepped out, water droplets glistening on her bare shoulders, her long hair damp against her skin. She froze when she saw me, her eyes widening in surprise.

The sight of her—so vulnerable, so beautiful—sent desire coursing through me with an intensity that left me breathless. The mate bond between us pulsed with renewed strength, and with it came a flare of pain in my chest as the curse responded to our connection.

I saw Freya’s hand move to close the door, to shut me out as she had so many times before. Something primitive and desperate rose within me—I couldn’t let her shut that door. Not again.

Before she could push it closed, I moved forward, my palm pressing against the wood to hold it open.

"Don’t," I said, my voice rough with emotion and desire.

Freya’s pulse jumped visibly at her throat, her scent shifting to reflect her own arousal despite her guarded expression. "Silvano, I need to change."

"Into what?" I challenged, taking a step closer. "More armor to keep me at bay?"

"No game," I said, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her face. The moment my fingers touched her skin, twin reactions occurred—electricity shot through me at the contact, and simultaneously, the curse flared viciously.

I couldn’t completely hide my wince of pain. Freya noticed, her brow furrowing.

"What’s wrong with you?" she asked, concern momentarily overriding her anger.

"Nothing," I lied, dropping my hand. "Just tired."

She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate movements, she tightened her grip on her towel and stepped back.

"I need to get dressed," she said quietly. "Please give me some privacy."

Every instinct in me rebelled against the dismissal, but I forced myself to nod and step away from the door. As it closed between us, the symbolic weight of that barrier felt crushing.

I moved to sit on the edge of our bed—a bed we hadn’t shared in months—and buried my face in my hands. The curse’s pain was receding now that physical distance separated us again, but the emotional agony remained.

My wolf paced frantically within me, confused and angry. *Go back. Take her. She’s ours.*

"She’s ours," I agreed aloud. "And that’s exactly why we can’t."