The dream that hunted
The first night she dreamed of him, Lyra woke with his name on her lips.
The problem was—
She didn’t know his name.
Only the feeling of him.
Heat. Shadow. Power.
It started with the forest.
Every night, she found herself there.
Moonlight poured like silver fire through towering trees, illuminating her bare feet as she ran over moss and roots that never cut her skin. The air smelled wild. Untouched. Electric.
And she was never afraid.
She ran because she liked the chase.
Because the anticipation coiled low in her belly.
Because she could feel him behind her.
Watching.
The first time his hand wrapped around her wrist, she gasped—not in fear.
In recognition.
The contact was searing.
Large fingers. Rough palm. Controlled strength.
He didn’t yank her back.
He let her feel the restraint first.
“Running again,” his voice rumbled behind her.
Deep. Velvet over steel.
She swallowed.
“You follow.”
A low chuckle vibrated against her spine as he stepped closer, his chest brushing her back. He was massive. Heat radiated from him like a living furnace.
“I don’t follow,” he murmured near her ear. “I stalk.”
His other hand slid slowly from her hip to her waist.
Possessive.
Deliberate.
Her breath turned shallow as he turned her to face him.
The first time she saw his face clearly, her pulse stumbled.
Dark hair falling over a strong brow. Scars tracing across bronze skin. A jaw carved from ruthless lines.
But it was his eyes—
Silver.
Glowing faintly beneath the moon.
Wolf eyes.
Predator eyes.
Mate eyes.
Her wolf purred beneath her ribs.
He lifted a hand, dragging his knuckles slowly down the curve of her cheek.
“You don’t fear me,” he observed.
“I don’t know you.”
His thumb brushed across her bottom lip.
“You will.”
And then his mouth was on hers.
Not soft.
Not brutal.
Claiming.
The kiss was slow at first, testing. His hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the angle. She felt devoured without being harmed. Overpowered without being diminished.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry.
She gave it.
The moment their mouths truly met, something snapped between them like a tether pulled tight.
Her body arched into his without thought.
His growl rolled through her chest as if it lived there.
He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her back against a tree trunk. The bark was solid and cool against her skin, the contrast to his heat making her gasp into his mouth.
“Mine,” he whispered against her throat.
The word wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was inevitable.
She woke shaking.
Breathless.
Alone.
And aching.
The dreams didn’t stop.
They deepened.
Night after night, she returned to that forest.
Sometimes he was already waiting.
Sometimes she would feel his gaze first—heavy, heated, hungry.
Other nights he let her run longer.
Let the anticipation build until her thighs trembled and her pulse pounded in her ears.
She started craving the moment his fingers would close around her.
Craving the way his body would cage hers.
Craving the dominance in his silence.
He never asked her name.
She never asked his.
They didn’t need them.
Their wolves spoke in instinct.
In scent.
In possession.
One night, the moon hung impossibly low in the sky, bathing them in pale light as he cornered her against a boulder.
“You slow down on purpose,” he accused softly.
She tilted her chin.
“Maybe I want to be caught.”
His eyes flared brighter.
His hand slid down her side, fingers tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her thigh and lifting it around his hip. The move was smooth. Controlled. Intentional.
Her breath hitched sharply as she felt the solid line of his body pressed flush against hers.
His forehead rested against hers.
“You test me,” he murmured.
“You enjoy it.”
A growl answered her.
He kissed her again slower this time. Deeper. His hands roaming without hesitation, mapping her curves like he was memorizing territory he intended to conquer.
She felt claimed without being broken.
Desired without being reduced.
In the dream world, she wasn’t prey.
She was fire meeting fire.
His teeth grazed the sensitive curve where neck met shoulder.
Her back arched instinctively.
“If you were real,” she whispered breathlessly, “you wouldn’t let me talk like that.”
His grip tightened just enough to remind her who held the power.
“If you were real,” he replied against her skin, “you wouldn’t survive challenging me.”
Heat flooded her.
Not fear.
Thrill.
She woke with his phantom teeth still pressing into her skin.
Miles away, in territory ruled by dominance and silence, Raze Blackthorne did not sleep peacefully anymore.
For months, the same female haunted him.
He had tried everything to stop it.
Whiskey.
Exhaustion.
Late-night patrols.
Nothing worked.
The moment his eyes closed, the forest came.
And so did she.
Small but fierce. Soft curves hiding steel beneath. A mouth that challenged him even as it opened beneath his.
She never begged.
Never submitted.
Even when he pinned her.
Even when he lifted her effortlessly and felt her body melt against his.
Her wolf met his with equal hunger.
He had never known hunger like this.
It wasn’t just physical.
It was territorial.
Instinctual.
Ancient.
Every time she laughed at him in the dream, something in his chest tightened.
Every time she pressed her body against his in defiance, his control frayed.
He woke hard and furious.
Because she wasn’t real.
She couldn’t be.
And yet he could still smell her when he rose from bed—wild rain and something sharp like lightning.
One night, the dream shifted.
He didn’t chase her.
He waited.
She stepped into the clearing on her own.
Slowly.
Knowingly.
“You’re getting impatient,” she observed.
He leaned against a tree; arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re getting reckless.”
She stopped inches from him this time.
No running.
No chase.
Her fingers slid up his chest, tracing a scar near his collarbone.
He inhaled sharply.
That small touch felt more dangerous than any battle wound.
“You think I’m afraid of you,” she said quietly.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist—not rough, but firm.
“I know you aren’t.”
He pulled her closer until their bodies aligned completely.
Her pulse thundered between them.
“You should be.”
Instead of retreating, she leaned up and bit his lower lip.
His wolf surged violently inside him.
The forest darkened.
Wind howled through the trees as he flipped her, pressing her back against the ground this time, towering over her. His hands bracketed her head, caging her beneath his body.
“You provoke,” he growled.
“You react.”
His eyes burned brighter than ever.
“Careful,” he warned.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place.
“Make me.”
The sound he made wasn’t human.
It was pure wolf.
He bent down, capturing her mouth again as the world around them seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their bond.
And for the first time—
The dream felt almost real.
Solid.
Close.
As if something beyond their control was thinning the distance between them.
Then came the night everything broke.
Lyra didn’t dream of the forest.
She didn’t feel moonlight.
She felt hands.
Real ones.
Rough.
Cruel.
She jerked awake into darkness that wasn’t silver and safe.
Stone walls.
Cold air.
The scent of him.
Her former Alpha.
“You thought you could run forever?” his voice sneered.
Pain exploded across her cheek as he backhanded her.
Her wolf snarled but she was weak drugged from the night before.
He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back.
“You belong to me.”
Somewhere deep in her mind, silver eyes flashed.
A distant growl echoed like thunder over mountains.
But it wasn’t close enough.
Her former Alpha shoved her against the wall, fingers digging into her throat—not claiming.
Crushing.
“I’ll break you until you remember who owns you.”
Dark spots filled her vision.
Air vanished.
And as consciousness slipped—
The forest flickered.
For just a second.
Silver eyes burning in the dark.
A wolf howling in fury.
Then nothing.
Miles away, Raze shot upright in his bed, chest heaving.
The bond screamed.
Not with desire.
With danger.
For the first time in months—
He smelled blood.
And it wasn’t his.
His wolf rose slowly, lethally.
She wasn’t just a dream.
She was real.
And someone had just hurt what belonged to him.
The hunt was about to begin.
génial, ça démarre bie!
Hammermäßig ! Welch emotionaler Einstieg. Sehr fantsievoll.♥️