My Father's Best Friend Is My Mate And My Stalker

In my dreams, I am not myself.

I am tied down, my wrists bound above my head, the coarse rope digging into my skin. My legs are parted, the sheets beneath me cool against my bare skin. Shadows curl at the edges of the room like smoke, and from within them, I hear footsteps which are slow, deliberate and heavy.

Then he emerges.

He is tall,at least six feet of raw menace and power,his body carved in darkness, face hidden from me as though the dream itself refuses to reveal him. Yet my wolf knows him. Sylvara doesn’t just stir,she howls, thrashing inside me, calling out to him like a long-lost mate.

He circles the bed like a predator savoring the helplessness of its prey,which was me. My breath catches, quick and uneven. His presence fills every corner of the room, pressing down on me until I feel both trapped and… craved.

When he finally leans in, he doesn’t start with my lips. No. He lowers himself to the end of the bed, and the first touch of his mouth is at my ankle, a kiss so light it burns. My legs tremble, a whimper slipping from me before I can stop it. His hands glide up slowly, teasing, brushing my thighs, but never giving, only taking my restraint and turning it into his power.

“Mine…” His voice is a growl at my ear before I even notice he has moved, his lips brushing my skin as the word sinks deep into my bones. It isn’t just a claim. It's binding. A truth I can’t escape.

The air shifts. Something cracks. The shadows fracture like glass splintering,shards of the dream falling away. The ropes dissolve, his touch vanishes, and I gasp.

My eyes snap open. Damn it. It wasn't real?

The room is dark, but real this time. My chest rises and falls too fast, my pulse thundering in my throat. For a long moment, I couldn't move, nor could I breathe. It was a dream… wasn’t it?

Then I hear it,the faintest sound. A crack.

I sit up quickly, searching the shadows of my bedroom. At the far corner, beside the dresser, I see the glint of porcelain on the floor. My vase was shattered. How? I swear this vase was balanced before I went to bed.

Pushing off the bed, I hurry to it, crouching down, my hands trembling as I gather the sharp fragments. Maybe the wind from the open window did it. Anything but the gnawing thought that something from the dream had slipped into reality.

When the floor is clear, I rise to my feet, brushing dust from my palms, my eyes glancing around my room and I see something on my dresser,A note.

Sitting neatly on my dresser as though it had been waiting for me. My heart stutters. I didn’t put it there. No one should even be in this room.

I reach for it slowly, fingertips brushing the paper. The moment I pick it up, the scent hits me.

Oh, Goddess.

It’s intoxicating. It smelled like a male. Dominant. Like forest rain mixed with smoke and something I can’t place but that coils through me like a memory half-remembered. Sylvara surges forward, pressing against me, desperate to claim it.

I bring it closer to my face without thinking, inhaling deeply. My body reacts before my mind can catch up,my lips part, my knees weaken. But when I open the note, there are no words. Just a blank page.

Still, the scent clings to me, wrapping around me like invisible chains. I clutch it tightly, forcing myself to focus, to remember. Who is this? Why does it feel like I should whoever dropped this?

I gaze at myself in the mirror,I am going crazy and so is my imagination! But there is something odd about the reflection I'm seeing.

At first, I see only myself. Pale skin, my hair messy from sleep, my doe eyes wide and uncertain. Then a flicker. My reflection changes.

Another pair of eyes that isn't mine glows back at me.

Emerald fire set inside the hood of a cloak. A woman stands in the reflection, where there should only be me. My breath freezes in my chest.

Before I can scream, she steps out.

Not from the mirror. From behind me. Her movement is too fast, too fluid, as though reality bends to let her through. Her cloak trails along the ground, her face hidden except for those eyes that burn with cruel delight.

I stumble back, but she’s already upon me.

A hand shoots out, stronger than iron, slamming me against the wall. My shoulders ache beneath her grip, Sylvara is snarling inside me but is powerless against whatever she is.

She inhales deeply.Pressing her hooded face against my neck as if my scent is a feast.

“You…” Her voice is a hiss, low and venomous. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

I thrash, shoving at her, but she doesn’t budge. With her free hand, she brushes across my chest, then pauses, her fingers glowing faintly with a dark shimmer. Magic. A searing pull rips through me,something tearing loose from my very core.

Pain lances through me, white-hot. I cry out, shoving harder, and with a sudden surge,Sylvara lends me strength. I twist and push her back, just enough to break her grip.

She stumbles, but only a step, her laugh chilling the room.

“My Alpha will be happy to hear,” she says, her glowing eyes narrowing with satisfaction, “that I’ve found his runaway bride.”

Before I can react, before I can demand what she means, her body melts into smoke, dissolving into the shadows, leaving nothing but the echo of her words.

I collapse to my knees, clutching the blank note still tight in my hand. The scent lingers. The word bride echoes in my mind, pounding in rhythm with my frantic heartbeat.

I wasn't married to anyone! I was betrothed to Alpha Aldric! How am I a runaway bride?