DIANA'S POV
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I had heard of Alexis Vandel long before Elijah ever mentioned her. All I knew was that she carried the same burning heat I now felt, but I never understood the rest. I didn't know about the bite, or how it could consume her until she found her mate.
That was the limit of my knowledge. I never saw this heat as anything significant. Yes, I once thought of reading about her, of learning how she managed to endure it, but that curiosity stayed buried, tucked away at the back of my mind.
Now Elijah speaks of how Alexis only found relief when her mate claimed her. That was the only thing that calmed the fire—maybe the only thing that could.
And for the first time, I feel the weight of it pressing down on me.
"It doesn't make sense," I whispered, crouching to the cold ground. The chill bit into my skin, yet all I felt was fire blazing inside me. Heat licked through my veins, and sweat prickled across my skin.
I clenched my fists and shut my eyes, willing it away, but it was inevitable. A low growl tore from my throat.
"Ahh…" another sound slipped from my lips, more a moan than a breath.
The heat surged lower, crawling along my thighs until it reached that aching, sensitive place. Pleasure erupted, sharp and consuming, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. It screamed to be cooled. To be claimed. To be marked.
My hands dug into my sides as if I could pin it down, control it somehow. Why? Why was it so intense now? Was it because Elijah stood so close? Did I carry the same curse Alexis did? But she was an Alpha. I wasn't.
Then why… why was it so...
HOT WITH PLEASURE!
Something deep inside me began to scratch, desperate and raw—my wolf. She was struggling too, fighting against the same unbearable fire.
Another growl ripped from me, followed by a cry that echoed through the emptiness. My body sank into darkness, swallowed by a void.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in my world. I stood in a room drowned in pitch black. The heat had faded, yet restlessness gnawed at me even harder.
Where am I?
I pushed myself up and turned in a slow circle, searching. The darkness shifted. Colors bled into the air, reshaping the room until it unfolded into an ancient courtyard. Stone buildings rose in two tall rows, their weathered walls framing cobblestone under my feet.
I sucked in a sharp breath. It looked like something out of the medieval age. But why here? Why me?
My gaze dropped to my clothes, relief loosening my chest. I was still in the blue gown I'd worn to the wedding. Thank heavens. At least I wasn't trapped in some stiff medieval dress.
Just then, a slash of red swept past me. I turned and caught the back of a woman in a red corseted bodice gown; her hair flowed beneath a red veil that trailed to the ground.
She stopped at the building's entrance, as if she'd sensed me. Would she turn?
I stepped forward, biting my lip, desperate to see even a whisper of her face. But before I reached her, the door exploded open. Rows of people filled the hall. I blinked—was this a church?
A man in a pristine white robe appeared. Long white hair framed his face; his eyes were dark and steady. He let out an exasperated sigh as he looked at the woman in red.
"Alexis, I hope you don't hate the world for this."
What? Alexis? She—this is—how? Why am I here with Alexis? Is this a dream? Why is she in my dream?
My hands clenched the folds of my gown as I stepped forward, desperate to understand what the hell was happening. But then a calm wind swept around me. The scent of mint and cedarwood wrapped over my skin, carrying me away.
When the haze cleared, I stood inside an apartment—not mine, but unmistakably modern. The twenty-first century. Smooth tiles gleamed beneath my feet, marble walls caught the moonlight, and a vast king-sized bed dominated the room. Blue curtains swayed in the breeze, letting silver light spill through.
I drifted toward the window. Beyond it stretched a wide compound overlooking a glittering lake. The air smelled of rain and mint. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent sinking into me like balm, calming the fire that had been clawing at my body.
"Is this another dream?" I whispered. Because if it was, I never wanted to wake. This place felt like heaven—so far from the torment of my nights, the endless tossing and burning that haunted me.
"Diana."
I froze—not because someone dared to call my name in this dream, but because of that voice. It was so familiar, so magnetic, it pulled me to turn.
Elijah stood there, shirtless, wearing only jeans. Sweat slicked his skin, dripping from his hair down the hard lines of his shoulders, tracing over his chest, his abs.
My breath hitched. The heat flared again, ten times stronger than before. I was right. It grew unbearable whenever he was close. And yet, instead of running, every part of me ached to step nearer.
"Why are you in my dream?" I blurted, the words sharp and accusing, lips pursed in defiance. I hated how he consumed my senses. I hated that the bond between us refused to break.
"Why are you in mine?" he shot back, blinking at me in confusion.
I frowned. What did he mean I'm in his dream, when he had clearly just appeared in mine?
"Ah..." A low moan slipped from my lips. It was happening again. I pressed my thighs together, fighting the ache, but Elijah noticed.
"Diana, you can't keep resisting it."
"I can," I hissed, snapping my gaze away from him.
My hands curled into fists. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force it down. But then I felt it—his cool breath. The same scent I always caught from him. It wrapped around me, close, so close it felt like balm against the burning inside me.
"Oh..." This time, the moan that tore out of me was thick with pleasure, sharper, deeper than the heat itself.
His voice came low, commanding.
"Part your legs."
His voice vibrated through my skin, as if he were speaking inside me. Only then did I realize—it wasn't just his voice. It was him. His closeness. His scent wrapping around me, drowning me.
I opened my eyes. Elijah was kneeling beside me, his breath just inches from my stomach. He inhaled deeply, almost hungrily, and a low growl rumbled from his chest. I could hear the struggle in his breathing.
"God… Diana, please…" His voice broke as he leaned in closer, nose brushing against me as he breathed me in.
The intimacy of it sent a sharp jolt racing through me. My body trembled. This was more than a touch—it was primal, a wolf thing. A mate thing. Inhaling, scenting, basking in their partner's sweetness before the claiming bite.
And that was what Elijah was doing.
But I wasn't about to let him. I wouldn't let him bite me. I wouldn't let him mark me—brand me until I smelled like him.
"Please." He looked up, his eyes melting into mine. Something inside me shifted at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so submissive.
He wasn't even touching me. His hands weren't on my hips. All he needed was my permission before he bit me.
But what would happen if he did? Would it stop the heat? Would it flood me with pleasure? Would it bind me to him, make me his?
I shook my head. No. No way was I letting him win.
I stepped back. His shoulders rose and fell, his eyes clouded with pain. Then he let out a resigned sigh, as though he had expected this, expected me to turn him down.
A low cry slipped from my lips as I jolted awake, drenched in sweat. My clothes clung to me, soaked through by the heat.
Damn.
What was that? What kind of dream was that?
"Are you awake, Señorita?"
The voice floated in from the kitchen, and instantly, I recognized it.