The Dreams He Shouldn’t Remember.

Davis’s POV

Rebecca’s face changed the moment I mentioned my dreams.

For a few seconds, she looked as though I had said something I wasn’t supposed to know.

“What did you see?” she asked.

Her voice was guarded, and I hesitated.

“I saw a woman wearing a wedding dress. She was standing in a bedroom, crying. There was a gold ring on her finger.”

Rebecca’s fingers tightened around her notebook.

I noticed, but I continued.

“I couldn’t see her face clearly. She kept calling my name, and when I tried to reach her, she moved away from me.”

I paused, remembering the guilt that had followed me out of sleep.

“Then she asked why I had let her suffer.”

Rebecca had gone pale.

“Dreams aren’t evidence of anything, Davis,” she said quickly. “You can’t build a whole story around something you don’t understand.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop thinking about it.”

I frowned. “It’s not that simple. I’ve never had a dream like that before.”

“People have strange dreams all the time.”

“Do they wake up feeling guilty about something they can’t remember doing?”

She looked away.

I leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her eyes.

“Have you ever dreamed about me?”

“No.”

Her answer came too quickly.

I knew she was lying, but I decided not to push her. Every time I asked her a personal question, she seemed to put another wall between us.

I didn’t want to make things worse.

“All right,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

She looked at me cautiously.

“But if there’s something you want to talk about someday, I’ll listen.”

“Thank you,” she replied stiffly.

Then she picked up her notebook and walked toward her bedroom.

I watched her leave, wondering what she was hiding and why my dreams seemed to frighten her more than they frightened me.

For the next few days, I tried to give her space.

It wasn’t easy.

I found myself noticing things about Rebecca that I had never paid attention to before. She became so absorbed in her studies that she sometimes forgot the time. Whenever Seravelle or another friend went out, Rebecca always checked that they had reached home safely.

She could be sharp-tongued with me, but she was patient with people she cared about.

And whenever someone mentioned marriage or family alliances, her mood changed.

She would become quiet or find an excuse to leave.

I had started to suspect that her dislike of me wasn’t just about my personality.

The problem was that whenever I tried to understand her, she shut me out.

One afternoon at the university, I saw her sitting with Raevorin Vale.

I knew him by reputation. He was an Alpha who preferred calm discussions to unnecessary displays of power. Unlike some of the heirs in our leadership program, he didn’t seem interested in proving that he was the strongest person in every room.

He was leaning toward Rebecca, saying something I couldn’t hear.

Then she laughed.

I stopped walking.

It wasn’t a polite smile or the small laugh she sometimes gave Seravelle. She genuinely laughed, covering her mouth for a second before shaking her head at whatever Raevorin had said.

I couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that around me.

For some reason, the sight irritated me.

I told myself I had no right to be bothered. Rebecca could spend time with whoever she wanted, and Raevorin hadn’t done anything wrong.

Still, I found myself watching them longer than I should have.

When Raevorin stood to leave, he said something else to Rebecca. She smiled at him before returning to her notes.

I finally forced myself to walk away.

I wasn’t jealous.

At least, that was what I told myself for the rest of the afternoon.

By the time I returned to the apartment, I had almost convinced myself that I didn’t care who Rebecca laughed with.

Almost.

She came in a little later, carrying her bag and a folder. I was at the dining table, reviewing some documents, when she walked past me.

“How was your assignment with Raevorin?” I asked.

She stopped and looked at me.

“Fine.”

“Did you finish it?”

“Almost.”

I nodded, pretending to return my attention to the papers in front of me.

Rebecca didn’t move.

“Why do you want to know?”

I looked up. “Am I not allowed to ask?”

“You can ask. I’m asking why you’re interested.”

“I was curious.”

She gave me a doubtful look.

“About my assignment?”

“Yes, Rebecca. Your assignment.”

“Right.”

She dropped her bag onto the chair opposite me and pulled out a notebook.

“We’re roommates, Davis. Not partners. You don’t have the right to question my friendships.”

Her words annoyed me because I knew she was right.

“I wasn’t questioning your friendships.”

“Then what were you doing?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

How was I supposed to tell her that I didn’t like seeing her laugh with another man when I couldn’t even explain why it bothered me?

“I was making conversation,” I finally said.

“Then make conversation without acting like I owe you an explanation about everyone I spend time with.”

She opened her notebook and started writing.

I leaned back in my chair.

“All right. I won’t ask again.”

She glanced at me, apparently expecting an argument.

When I didn’t continue, she returned to her work.

I tried to do the same, but my attention kept drifting toward her.

I wanted to be someone she felt comfortable talking to. Someone who could make her laugh instead of making her look for the nearest exit.

I just didn’t know how to get there.

Later that evening, my phone buzzed beside my laptop.

I glanced at the screen.

Harper Arquen.

I stared at her name for several seconds before opening the message.

I’ve arrived in the city. Can we meet tomorrow?

I hadn’t seen Harper in person for a while, and until recently, I would have been excited about her return.

I had always believed she was my fated mate. It was something I had accepted without questioning it.

But lately, my wolf had been reacting to Rebecca in ways I couldn’t explain. The strange pull whenever she came close, the way my attention followed her even when I tried to ignore her, and now these dreams.

I needed to see Harper.

Perhaps being with her would settle my doubts and remind me that I had been overthinking everything.

I typed a reply.

Tomorrow works. Let me know where you want to meet.

Her response came a few minutes later.

Thank you. There’s something important I need to discuss with you.

I was about to put my phone away when another message appeared.

Is Rebecca Browns still living with you?

I frowned.

Why was Harper asking about Rebecca?

I hadn’t told her anything beyond the fact that my assigned roommate was someone I knew from the leadership program.

I typed back.

Yes. Why do you want to know?

Her reply arrived almost immediately.

I read it once, then read it again.

Because I need to speak to Rebecca before you tell her anything about us.