My Crush Might Kill Me

By Literally Someone Who Should Not Be Trusted With Weapons
There are three things you should know about me:
I’m a werewolf.

I accidentally shot a penguin during vampire training. (He survived. He also now hates me.)

I was convinced I was going to wake up on my seventeenth birthday mated to the Alpha’s son. You know, tall, broody, fated leadership, cheekbones that could cut glass. Standard hormonal delusion stuff.

Instead?
I woke up with nothing.
No mate bond. No swoony connection. Just a hollow chest, a bruised ego, and the leftover trauma of showing the entire pack my toilet paper tail the night before.
And then he showed up.
Lucien. Cold eyes. Sharper jaw. Definitely a vampire. Definitely the enemy. Definitely the guy I’m supposed to kill on sight.
So, obviously, he turns out to be my mate.
Now I’m stuck between a blood feud, a pack that wants him dead, and a face that turns into a tomato every time he so much as looks at me.
Fate’s funny like that.
And by funny, I mean screw you, Moon Goddess, I am not emotionally stable enough for this.