Her existence thrums through me like a second heartbeat. I don't understand how she can be mine. She's a miracle. An anomaly.
And she'smine. My Moon Goddess blessed fated mate.
How do other shifters survive this? This constant gnawing terror clawing at my insides, full of worry and fear for her safety and happiness. Since we've met, I've become even more of apossessive, overbearing, alpha-fueled ball of fire, running on raw instincts. I've panicked more in the last week than I have in years combined. I think about her needs, her wants, her wellness in a constant stream of consciousness, right there beside every other daily task.
I wake up—is Mona awake? I eat. Is Mona hungry? I run drills. Is Mona safe? Enjoying her day?
My nerves are frayed ends. She's rewired my brain—every thought now tethered to her.
And it's fucking terrifying.
With thoughts of all impending threats against her, which eventually turn to thoughts of mating and fucking, I drift off beside her. So it's a surprise when I'm jarred awake with her thrashing in my arms. She's mumbling something, squirming, tangled in the sheets.
"Mona," I whisper. "Mona," I try again, nudging her this time. But I push too hard, and she lets out a screech when she wakes and finds I'm in bed with her.
"What-what," she mutters. "What happened?"
"You were having a nightmare."
Even in the dark, I can see her almost perfectly. She scrunches her pert nose, rubs her tired eyes. Her hair is a wild mess. She looks fucking cute.
"I don't think it was a nightmare." She yawns and only then realizes I'm actuallyhere. She and I haven't exactly got along well since her arrival. "You slept with me." It's not an accusation. The slight lilt at the end of her sentence tells me she's surprised.
"What was it about?" I ask.
"Huh?" She takes a second to catch up. I lean around her to glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's barely midnight. "Oh, the dream. Umm…"
"You were thrashing."
She bites her lip and looks down at her fidgeting hands. "It's not… I mean, it's weird. It keeps happening. Different each time, but the same. It's always in a cell. Or a cage. I think it used to be a nightmare—" she shakes her head, trying to clear the confusion.
Then she starts over. "I used to have nightmares about what Silas did. I'd wake up screaming, feeling him bite into me. But lately it's—it's different. He's still there. But he's in a cell. And there's a woman there. Sometimes she's naked. Sometimes she's wearing old sweats. She's—I can't explain it. Like, throwing herself at him? But she looks feral. She's a wolf, too. I can smell her. A delta, but… not…"
I don't add anything or interrupt, just wait for her to continue. She tries to see if I have an opinion or explanation, but I don't, so I say nothing.
"It's so real. And kind of mundane. When she's not throwing herself at him, they're just talking. Or… smiling."
Weirdly, that last part makes her frown. I ask, "It makes you uncomfortable?"
Instead of answering, she says, "Can I ask you something? About the mate thing?"
"Of course."
"Silas… I mean, he's your pack. And you're my fated mates or whatever, you and Orion…"
"Ask what you want to ask, Mona."
"It's just… gahh, I don't know why this is so hard."
"It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll work it out."
"I feel something for him. And I feel like that's wrong. Like I shouldn't. After what he did to me and maybe did to my dad—" her breath hitches and she lets out a dark laugh. Sitting up, she leans against the headboard and pulls her knees to her chest. The full moon is coming, but it's not here yet. Still, it's bright and high in the sky, unencumbered by clouds.
The gentle luminescence makes her skin glow. Her arctic-blue eyes cut through the darkness as they dart around the room, looking for answers. But she won't find them there.
I reach out and grip her chin, making her look at me. I've seen many expressions on Mona's face since we met. Fear, anger, annoyance, amusement. But this uncertainty is new.
"You want to know if Silas is your mate."
