Halia's POV
I was standing in a field that shouldn't have existed.
The grass shimmered with a silver sheen, and overhead, the moon was fractured—split down the middle like a wound that never healed. Trees whispered without wind. Branches reached like skeletal fingers. Every step I took echoed, though no real ground lay beneath me. Just mist. Just silence.
Something was wrong.
I turned in slow circles, searching for any sign that this place was real—or not. But my body was moving on its own, pulled forward like a thread had caught around my ribs and was drawing me in.
Then I saw him.
A silhouette in the distance. Still. Tall. Shrouded in shadows that moved like smoke. I couldn't see his face, but I knew. Knew the shape of his body, the way the night clung to him. My breath hitched. My heart kicked against my ribs.
It was him.
The man from my dreams.
The man who had touched me in the dark like he already owned me.
He raised his hand, and the moon above flared—just for an instant—blinding, burning. In that light, I saw his eyes: gold. Endless.
I took a step. Then another. I couldn't stop.
The second our fingertips touched, the world shattered.
Flashes—
A stone circle. Candles burning low.
Blood smeared across skin.
My name whispered into flame.
**"Halia."**
Then—darkness.
---
I screamed.
The sound tore from my throat before my eyes even opened. My body flung upright, gasping. My heart thundered.
This wasn't my bed.
The sheets were satin. Pearl-gray. The air was cool and too still. A crystal chandelier scattered golden light above me. Velvet drapes swayed gently without wind. The floor—marble. Too smooth. Too polished. Too… perfect.
**Where the hell am I?**
I blinked hard. My head throbbed.
This was not home.
I wasn't even in my own clothes. A soft, silken nightdress clung to me. Thin. Unfamiliar.
My hand flew to my neck.
The pendant.
Still there.
Cold. Heavy.
Alive.
And then it all came rushing back.
Telling Mom I was meeting Maggie. The mall. The dream. The man.
His voice. His hunger.
His golden eyes burning like twin suns inside my mind.
I remembered Maggie's laugh. The shopping. The sunlight.
And then—the taxi.
The wrong turn.
The locked doors.
Gloved hands.
Blindfold.
Darkness.
And *him*.
No longer a dream. No longer imagined.
The moment I tried to sit up—
A presence moved in the room.
I froze.
The lights had dimmed. The air changed. And then—I saw him.
Seated in a velvet chair across the room. Half in shadow. Legs crossed. Holding a crystal glass half-full of dark liquid. Dressed in black, his shirt fitted like it had been sewn onto him. Silver watch glinting. Every inch of him radiated command.
My breath caught.
It was him.
And just like in the dream—I couldn't look away.
**"You,"** I whispered.
A slow smile curved his lips. "You wake up screaming in my home, and that's your first word?"
His voice—silken thunder.
I shifted back on the bed instinctively. "You were in my dream."
He raised his glass. "Or you were in mine."
"Where's Maggie?" My voice cracked. "What did you do to her?"
"She's home. Telling your mother you vanished. Blaming herself, maybe. Crying, probably."
My stomach clenched.
**Mom.**
She must be terrified. But—wait. If Maggie told her…
His gaze flickered. Not surprised.
I tried to stand, but my legs shook.
He rose—slow and deliberate—and crossed the room toward me. Close enough to make the air around me hum.
"I don't know what you think this is," I said, breathless. "But you can't just kidnap people."
He leaned in, voice low. "I didn't just kidnap you, Halia. I *claimed* you."
My blood turned to ice. "You what?"
His eyes gleamed gold.
"I am Alpha of the Blackshade Pack. We were cursed by the Moon Goddess herself. The price to keep that curse from devouring us is steep. But you…" He stepped back, as if studying me. "You were different. The moment I touched you, the curse didn't just shift—it *hesitated.*"
I swallowed hard. "You're insane."
"I wish I was."
I looked away, but he caught my chin gently. His fingers were warm—surprisingly gentle. Not forceful. Not cruel. But still… possessive. His eyes searched mine like he was trying to see something deeper inside me.
"You feel it too, don't you?" he asked. "The pull. The bond."
And God help me—I *did.*
Every part of me screamed to run. But somewhere buried beneath the fear was something hotter. Stranger. A magnetic pull I couldn't explain.
The way his voice coiled into my bones. The way his gaze lingered on me—not just hungry, but reverent. *Like I was sacred and his all at once.*
"I don't want to be claimed," I said.
"You may not have a choice."
He turned, walking toward the door.
"Wait!" I said. "You said the bond isn't complete. What does that mean?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"It means your soul hasn't decided yet. But soon it will. And when it does…"
His eyes flared gold.
"You'll either break the curse—or become its vessel."
Before I could ask what that meant, he stepped into the hall.
"Rest, Halia. You'll need your strength."
Then he was gone.
And I was alone.
Still wearing a stranger's nightdress.
Still clutching a pendant that beat like a second heart.
Still shaking.
Still burning.
Still wondering why, through all the fear and confusion…
I could still feel the warmth of his breath on my skin—
And why a part of me didn't want him to stop.