Chapter 10
Evan
Clarity returned like a snap of fluorescent lights in a dark room. The burning under my skin eased to a simmer, my brain finally starting to function again—no more horny stranger hijacking my mind.
My thoughts began to align, to process, to formulate decisions that didn’t involve grinding against the nearest available surface. Against him. Whatever that blue liquid was, it certainly cleared away the intense lust.
The bastard knelt beside the bed, confessing his sins to some invisible priest. The overpowering perfume rolling off Gregory subsided, replaced by the calming aroma of sun-dried cotton.
I zeroed in on his split lip, the bottom one I’d torn with my teeth. Blood should have been streaming down his chin, but instead, the wound sealed over, his skin knitting back together in a miniature time-lapse that made me sick.
Gregory didn’t seem to notice, just kept rambling apologies while his body performed a medical miracle. So, that’s what he meant by “I don’t need anyone to heal me.” Of course not, he was basically a walking first-aid kit.
The evidence kept piling up. That otherworldly glow in his eyes, his burning grip, his supernatural strength, and now this regeneration nonsense.
I’d been trying to rationalize everything since waking up in this nightmare, searching for logical explanations.
Maybe the glow was from contacts; perhaps the girl who healed me used some advanced technology I didn’t understand.
Maybe I’d suffered brain damage from the fall and was hallucinating all of it.
As the gash on Gregory’s lip vanished, my worldview crumbled.
Magic was real.
I paused to absorb it all. All my scientific knowledge and beliefs about reality disappeared in an instant.
A constricting feeling gripped my ribs, as if a cold hand was squeezing the air from my lungs.
If this were true, then my sense of sanity was a delicate and subjective thing, and I had lost my hold on it.
I waited for a director to shout “cut” or for a hidden-camera reveal, but the air was strangely fresh, and the sun was unnaturally bright.
I faced a choice. Accept this new reality or go mad.
Gregory’s words kept coming. Two years of cruelty, of pushing away the original owner of this body, of being mates. A sob story about treating someone like garbage who kept coming back for more.
The previous Evan had either been a masochist, or Gregory was such prime real estate that red flags seemed an acceptable tax.
He was attractive, that was undeniable, with broad shoulders, muscles like stone, and a classic V-shaped torso… A picture of perfection.
“Stop.” I held up a palm, cutting off his rambling. “Before you wear out your knees, I need answers. Where am I?”
He pushed a hand into his hair, his brow furrowed in confusion. “My cabin. On the mountain above Mossfen.”
“No. Where am I? What planet, what realm, what dimension? I don’t care what you call it, but this sure as hell isn’t Earth.”
He squinted, tilting his head slightly. “What game are you playing now, Evan?”
“Let me be clearer.” I leaned forward, fixing him with my gaze.
“I’m from a place where people don’t turn into human Christmas lights, where skin doesn’t burn hot enough to leave marks, and where wounds don’t mend themselves in seconds.
” I gestured at his now perfect lip. “A place where the only magic involves pulling rabbits out of hats.”
Gregory opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. For a guy who’d been so articulate during his confession, he was speechless.
“And another thing.” I pointed at him, deploying an authority I had no right to have while sitting on a stranger’s bed. “You mentioned mates. The last time I checked, mating for life was for swans. If that’s what Evan was to you…” I shook my head. “Oh, hell no. Not interested.”
Gregory’s face darkened. A muscle jumped in his jaw, betraying his attempt at calm.
He rose to his full height and stepped closer, menace tightening his frame.
“That’s not how it works, Evan. Mating is a sacred rite, a blessing from Mother Goddess.
There are courtships, formal offerings. An alpha must prove his worth, build a home, show he can provide and protect.
I was supposed to do that for you, but I was a coward. ”
He flexed his hands at his sides, an ominous burn bleeding into the blue of his eyes.
“You can’t reject what we are. A true rejection doesn’t just break the bond—it shatters the soul.
Madness, a slow fade into nothingness, or death.
For both of us. I came so close to losing you already. Don’t you dare speak of it.”
Death. I’d already died once, but being bound to this man might be a worse fate.
“Delusional.” I cut him with a bitter laugh. “You are delusional. Who do you think you are?”
He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me as he loomed above the bed. “I’m your alpha, and you’re my omega, whether you remember it or not.”
I clutched at my collar, my fingers gripping the cotton of the borrowed shirt. My body wanted to listen to him. It wanted to bare my neck, to roll over, and submit.
No. This wasn’t me. The urge didn’t come from my brain; it rose from somewhere else, like muscle memory.
I squeezed the shirt fabric harder. This body was trying to overwrite everything I was and replace twenty-three years of survival instinct with something I didn’t ask for.
I tore my eyes away, staring at the floorboards because I couldn’t meet his gaze. If I did, I might actually give in.
I’d scraped and fought to get out of the gutter, to build a life where I was the one people looked up to. I made them bow so I would never have to again.
Because bowing got you killed. It was the reason my mother was in the ground. She’d spent her whole life bending, folding herself smaller to make everyone else happy, until it got to her. She’d been too soft for a hard world, and that was another promise I made myself—I’d never end up like her.
A harsh, grating laugh escaped me, acting as a shield. “I don’t care what fucked-up social hierarchy you’ve got going on here. We’re both men. This whole alpha-omega thing sounds pretty sexist and doesn’t make any damn sense.”
Gregory’s expression morphed, pity softening his gaze. “When has gender ever mattered with this?”
“Oh.” The single word slipped from my lips.
I pushed myself onto my knees on the bed, bringing us closer to eye level.
“Well, it’s not my fault I got killed and ended up in your world.
” I paused, my chest rising and falling.
“And just because you decided to bring me to your cabin doesn’t mean I’m going to accept being forced into whatever arrangement you think we have.
Maybe you should’ve left me in that lake as you did in the first place.
I’d have preferred that. Death.” The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t take them back.
He recoiled, breathing in a pained hiss. Potent heat rolled off him, scorching like an open flame. The energy washed over my skin, making the air crackle and raising every nerve in alarm and anticipation.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Try me.” My breathing quickened, and adrenaline hit, sending a warmth rushing through my veins.
We faced off, the space between us thick with tension—part anger, part hostility, and part unnerving magnetic force. My pulse hammered, though it had nothing to do with fear.
He flinched, his massive frame shaking. His legs gave out, and he dropped to the floor, hiding his face against his knees. When he lifted his head, the anger was gone. All that remained was despair, and it stopped my hostility in its tracks.
“You’re not…” He gaped at me, his shock absolute, like I’d grown a second head. “You don’t know. Who you are. Where you are.” He swallowed the question escaping him, exposed and broken. “Who I am?”
I crossed my arms as a protective barrier, ignoring the dull pain knotting in my chest. His visible anguish sparked an urge in this body to reach out, a compulsion so strong my muscles twitched with the effort of holding it back.
“I…” I cleared my throat. “Someone killed me. A woman. The next thing I knew, I was falling.” I stopped, refusing to let the memory of that endless drop drag me back under. “Then you rescued me from the lake.”
Focusing on the warmth of his touch was easier, that heat seeping into my bones. For a few seconds, I’d experienced a peace I hadn’t known in years, like coming home. “And you’re aware of what happened after that. What you did.” I swallowed hard. “I’m not the Evan you knew.”
He froze, then dragged his fingers over his dark hair in disbelief. His scent soured, the comforting cotton turning caustic and acrid, like scorched fabric. Distress knotted in my stomach at the abrupt change, which pissed me off. Was this omega thing the reason I was so sensitive to his moods?
“The head wound,” he said. “Why did you have a head wound?”
The question doused every other thought like a bucket of ice water.
I touched my temple, brushing aside the ginger strands that covered the spot where my injury had been.
“There was someone else,” I said. “A woman with purple eyes and a scar. She’s the one who did this.
” I gestured to my temple. “She attacked me, seemed to think I was the other Evan, just with amnesia from the head injury.”
Gregory’s head shot up.
“She was surprised he survived whatever she’d done to him before.
Thought Evan was dead after she’d tried to kill him.
” I paused, trying to piece together the fragments of memory through the fever haze.
“She ripped a crystal from me and was furious. She kept accusing the other Evan of wasting his power, said his mother sacrificed everything for him, and he’d opened a portal for nothing. ”
I met Gregory’s gaze. “I think that portal wasn’t a trick. I think it was a door or something, and that’s how I got here. My soul ended up in his body.” God, saying it out loud made it sound more ridiculous, but it made it real.
Dread coiled in my stomach as the implications settled in. If I was here, in this body, then where was the other Evan? In my world? In my body?
No.
My body was dead. The bullet tore through my chest. I fell forty-two stories, and there was no coming back from that.
“The man you knew, I think he is—”
“Don’t,” he blurted, stopping me mid-sentence. “Don’t say another word about it.”
His eyes were a crimson, demonic void. No warmth left in him, no anger or anything else, like he’d completely shut down. Even his scent was gone.
A chill snaked down my spine. That absence was more disturbing than any rage. I’d seen it before. In my own mirror at twelve years old.
“Hey.” I adjusted my position on the bed, uneasy with this vacant version of him.
At least when he was angry, he was present.
This was like talking to a ghost. Gregory ignored me, moving to the same cabinet where he’d gotten the blue vials.
Glass clinked as he shoved jars aside to grab what he needed, and returned with clean cloths and several small containers.
“Sit down, please.” He knelt without looking at me. “I need to clean the wounds on your feet.”
His complete detachment drained the fight out of me.
I could meet his anger, but against this emptiness, I had no defense.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and let my legs dangle.
Gregory worked with practiced efficiency.
The herbs gave off the scent of chamomile and willow bark, Anita’s go-to remedy.
It reminded me of her rough, kind hands tending to scraped knees after playground fights.
Gregory’s touch was careful, his calloused thumbs methodical as he cleaned each cut and scrape. The cool herbal medicines stung at first, then soothed the raw skin.
His shoulder muscles flexed as he worked, and I noticed scars mapping the contours of his knuckles. I watched the unexpected gentleness of his movements, captivated by how he treated my feet as if they were made of glass.
It had been years since anyone touched me without wanting something in return. No hidden agenda, no board votes, no expectations. Just… care.
The unfamiliar weight of it pressed against my heart, cracking the armor I wore like a second skin. It felt too much like Anita.
A lump formed in my throat, and tears burned behind my eyelids.
I blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.
When Gregory finished, he rubbed his face and let out a long, tired sigh before he stood and went to the kitchen.
He returned with a wooden cup of water and set it on a small table next to the bed.
“You should rest,” he said. “It’s still morning, and you’re not well.
That head wound… You’re still confused and not thinking straight.
I’ll be outside if you have questions. I’ll answer them later, but please don’t leave the cabin.
It has protection spells, and right now, the safest place to stay is inside because—” He cut himself off, shook his head, then left.
The door closed with a click behind him.
I leaned back against the headboard and stared out the window. No skyscrapers obstructing my view, no distant sirens wailing, only a vast blue sky framed by a sea of trees that seemed to stretch on forever.
The sheer scale of it was disorienting. No taxis honking. No sirens. No chatter drifting up from the street.
The silence was absolute, an unfamiliar quiet broken only by birdsong.
Nothing like the constant noise of New York City, and it did nothing to soothe the turmoil in my mind.
The bed creaked as I dragged the blankets up, that gnawing emptiness settling into my ribs.
It was the same void I’d carried for years, only now I didn’t have cigarettes or bitter cold coffee to dull the edges.