Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
In the seconds before Hayden’s lips could meet mine, a beeping in my ears escalated as my cell phone’s alarm jolted me awake. I sat up straight and took in my surroundings.
I was alone, tangled in my bed sheets in my London apartment. Thank goodness. I was back in the physical realm that was my reality.
I jumped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. A cold bottle of water from the fridge was what I needed to steady my nerves. My mind reeled as I gulped down the water.
The dream realm was based on magic. Humans, absent of magic, didn’t experience it. They could go through life never meeting the other half of their soul, feeling like something was missing their entire existence.
I thought I would be that human.
I crumpled the plastic bottle in my hand and threw it into the recycle bin under the sink.
Since I was a little girl, I was taught every supernatural had only one fated mate. Which meant either Torin or Hayden was a fake. The sacred lore clashed with my reality, pitching Torin and Hayden against each other in my mind—one was genuine and the other a deceptive illusion.
But how did they find a way to bond with me? Did the witch have something to do with it?
If Dad knew I’d found my mate, he’d rejoice at the chance for me to be the next Queen.
But the Fates had dealt me a hand of having two mates, each bringing me danger.
By his very nature of a vampire-werewolf hybrid, Torin was a ticking bomb posing a threat to my existence.
Hayden, my loyal protector for countless seasons, had almost suffocated me, leaving me with a lingering suspicion toward him.
Two destructive supernatural mates. One unworthy human princess.
Each step toward my bedroom felt like trudging through quicksand with the weight of this realm pressing into my shoulders.
From my nightstand drawer, I pulled out my soft-tip calligraphy pen, and with gentle and slow strokes, I inked familiar patterns onto my skin—the petals and the disc of a daisy, my birthmark symbol—on the inside of my left wrist, a silent mantra etching strength and vigilance into my flesh.
Then, so I wouldn’t forget, I penned the four symbols from the forest in my dream on my other wrist. I had so many questions, but the answers lay in a nightmarish dream realm I feared returning to.
A dark, harrowing sensation settled in the pit of my stomach—something horrible would happen, and the peaceful life I had built among other humans for the past seven years would soon collapse. How much longer could I run from the supernatural world?
My skin prickled. I may have exited my dream realm, but I hadn’t actually escaped.
My journey was one filled with relentless quests for answers about my obscure human lineage, with each passing year adding to the myriad of unanswered questions. Who was I? Who was I supposed to become?
And my dream realm was a cryptic clue that tightened my chest and jumbled my thoughts.
Perhaps my mind transported me to my dream realm because the Fates wanted to reveal my mates to me.
The five-point star was an incomplete pentagram.
The missing symbol of the elements carved on the trees was that of the spirit or fated mate.
Figuring out who my fated mate was would push me closer to inherit the throne—something I’d avoided for the last seven years as much as I had vampires.
Dad was right—I would have to return to the werewolf kingdom, and finding the access point to my dream realm was an omen of it.
Two hours later, I climbed up the wide and sturdy steps to the massive front doors of the library, and the simple movement left me breathless. Standing tall amidst London’s bustling city, the library was designed as a multi-story building to maximize space.
Content with my library job, I found tranquility among the books—calmness from being surrounded by the enchanting scent of old tomes. As I pushed open the heavy doors, the scent of old paper greeted me, instantly slowing my racing heart.
There was something about running my fingertips over leather covers and pages cracking slightly with age. The library became more than a physical structure but a sanctuary of knowledge where I could discover stories.
Making my way deeper into the heart of the library, I distracted myself by watching the kids at the children’s corner listening to early morning story time.
Would my kids be human like me one day, or would they take after their werewolf grandparents?
The safest idea would be to marry a human man. I wasn’t sure I could handle the idea of my future kids having to worry about losing their lives on a daily basis. I wanted them to have a carefree childhood—something I didn’t have growing up.
Six young kids sat in a circle on a fluffy blue carpet in the children’s story time section. One little boy, no older than six, hugged a yellow plushie bear like it was his life-saving device.
Another boy crept up to the librarian, pretending to be a sneaky ninja, and peeked at the big book she held open.
I couldn’t help but smile when his eyes widened at the pictures inside the children’s book. Dazed, I watched their innocent faces, their emotions clearly displayed for the world.
The storyteller volunteer must’ve been a saint because when a little girl walked up to her, ignoring the reading session in progress, and pulled on the volunteer’s name tag, the woman gently directed her back to her seat with a smile.
If I had ever disrupted an all-Alphas meeting in Dad’s boardroom as a kid, my werewolf father would have sent me to the track to run laps until I couldn’t breathe.
Growing up human in the supernatural world was like being a weed among a bush of thorny roses. I didn’t belong, and even if I didn’t get dug out, I was sure to get pierced—one of several reasons I no longer lived in the werewolf kingdom in Southern California with my family.
A spell of dizziness zapped through me. I hadn’t made the right decision to come to work today.
But since I was already here, I headed to my boss’s office before I fainted in the middle of the busiest part of the first floor.
I must’ve been anxious about going to the library fundraiser event tomorrow night.
Yes, that must be it.
All I had to do was refuse to attend.
As an introvert, I didn’t want to entertain people who scrutinized me while deciding whether they’d contribute money to our library. I didn’t want their decision to depend on whether they liked me.
I took a right toward the stairwell no one used and climbed to the tenth floor. I’d done this exercise regularly for three years and never felt more tired than right now.
Dad will be disappointed with me for not keeping up with my training.
I took a break on the fourth floor and inhaled, and with it, the scent of stale and moldy carpets hit my nose.
Something was wrong with my senses today.
I ascended the stairs again. I’d left the sounds of coughs, throat clearing, and phones pinging with messages on the first floor. Was the silence in the enclosed space more eerie today, or was it my imagination?
Shaking my hands, I hiked the last step to the tenth floor and trudged to my boss’s office. With my hand in midair, about to knock, I stayed frozen as crashing noises and something hitting the ground echoed from the other side of the wooden door.
“Steven?” With an elevated pulse, I entered his office.
My boss was on all fours, lifting individually packaged mints off the carpet and placing them into the glass bowl on the small coffee table.
He wore his usual beige dress pants and suit jacket—his typical outfit on most workdays. Steven used to wear a different color suit during my first year of employment at the library until about two years ago when his wife died in a car accident.
Since then, he’d been sticking with the beige suit, which, I suspected, didn’t make it to the dry cleaners often.
He lifted his gaze, and to no surprise, his eyes were red with dark circles around them. My boss made an awkward attempt to stand up while placing his hands on his knees, and I rushed to his side to support him.
“Go sit down. I’ll pick up the mints.”
He was about my height, five-four or five. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were always loose, and thick black hair stuck out.
He nodded and flopped his heavy body on the couch, the black leather squeaking its protest under his weight.
It’d be harder to decline attending the fundraiser than I thought.
His office looked more like a therapist's, with the dish of mints and a box of tissues as permanent fixtures on the small table in front of the leather couch.
The throw pillows had a permanent dip in the middle. Tissues overflowed the metal wastebasket, and a thick, ancient-looking laptop sat on the old desk.
I placed the last candy in the bowl and lifted the framed picture off the coffee table on autopilot. Steven usually put it face down while he lay on the couch with his arm over his face, crying.
“She was beautiful,” I said, fixing the picture on the table.
I sat beside him on the couch while Steven stared at the picture.
He didn’t seem to want to participate in life. Although I hadn’t lost a loved one in an accident, he and I connected on a deeper level, both of us feeling lost.
I waited for a long moment, wondering how on earth a person could survive so much grief. His world was turned upside down in a matter of a day.
Finally, he recovered but only to pull the small metal bottle of whiskey from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He handed it to me, but I shook my head. He proceeded to take a long sip.
“Thank you, Breanna, again, for making the invitations to the upcoming event. The donors loved your calligraphy art.” He took another short sip. “You really have a talent.”
I let out a loud sigh, and my boss gave me a small, knowing smile.
“I know what you’re doing, Steven. You won’t butter me up with compliments.”
He dropped the smile immediately and straightened up.