Chapter One
Raine's POV
He didn't speak.
Not at first.
Just touched me—like he already knew every part of my body. Like I belonged to him.
I was naked beneath him, hot skin against hotter skin, pinned to soft sheets that smelled like home, like heat, like him. His hands slid over my thighs, up to my waist, then cupped my breasts. I moaned. My legs opened without thought, my body already desperate.
But his face... I couldn't see it. No matter how hard I tried, the image stayed blurry—like smoke.
Yet somehow, it didn't matter.
Because I knew this man.
My body remembered him, even if my mind didn't.
When his lips found my neck, I shivered. When he kissed down my chest, I gasped. When his mouth reached between my legs, I forgot how to breathe.
"Silas," I whispered.
He didn't answer. He never did when he was like this—focused, wild, desperate.
His tongue moved slowly at first—teasing, circling. My thighs trembled. I gripped the sheets so tightly my knuckles ached. Then he sucked hard, and I let out a cry that didn't even sound like me.
He didn't stop.
He groaned against me like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Like he lived for this.
"You're so wet," he murmured, voice low, raspy. "So sweet and perfect like this ..."
I arched my back, grinding against his mouth, chasing the pressure building deep inside me.
His fingers slid inside. Two, thick and slow. Curling in just the right way.
"Look at me," he said, voice rough.
I did. His eyes were locked on mine as he thrust harder.
"You feel that?" he growled. "That's mine. You're mine."
I nodded, biting my lip. My body was shaking now, my breath coming fast. I could feel it building, that sharp rush of heat coiling low in my stomach.
I was close. So close. My body was shaking, my chest rising and falling fast.
I reached for him, still unable to see his face, but needing him—needing more.
"Please," I whispered, on the edge. "Don't stop… I'm—"
The orgasm hit hard.
Or it should have.
Because my eyes flew open before I could, heart racing. Sweat clung to my skin. My thighs were squeezed tight together, aching for something that wasn't there.
"Gods," I whispered.
I was alone. Cold. Empty.
And the man from my dream was gone—again.
Just like always.
Just like five years ago.
I sat up, pulling the sheet over my chest like it would hide the shame soaking through my skin.
My thighs were still trembling. My breath hadn't settled. My core still pulsed with the ghost of something that wasn't even real.
Gods.
What was wrong with me?
I was a married woman. A Luna. The wife of the most powerful man in the country. And yet… I was waking up from that—a filthy dream about a man I couldn't even see.
But the truth I didn't want to admit, I knew who it was, I knew that man in my dreams.
I clenched my jaw, throwing off the sheets. The cool air kissed my damp skin. It didn't help. Nothing did.
You're pathetic, I thought.
Dragging my robe around my body, I crossed the room and turned on the television—just to shut my mind up. The screen lit up the silence, blasting the morning news across the room.
Distraction. That's all I need. Something to stop me from thinking about hands that weren't his. Lips that didn't belong to the man with my last name.
But the moment I looked up.
There he was.
My husband.
Alpha King Damon Duskbane.
Powerful. Cold. Feared.
He stood at a podium, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, jaw sharp as stone, eyes like polished steel. The crowd of human officials surrounding him looked like sheep next to a predator. They clapped as he spoke with a voice so deep and commanding it rattled the glass.
"Our alliance remains strong," he said. "As long as they remember who holds the leash."
People admired him. Respected him. Obeyed him.
They didn't know what it was like to be married to him.
They didn't see the silence. The cold glances. The way his fingers never lingered on mine.
And they definitely didn't see the way he looked at me like I was glass—polished on the outside, but already cracked beneath.
I stared at the screen. Guilt tightened around my ribs like a vice.
This man—this feared, respected, ruthless Alpha—was mine.
And I had just dreamed about being undone by someone else.
By a man whose face I couldn't even see… but whose touch felt dangerously familiar.
I pressed the remote until the TV shut off with a soft click.
And for a long time, I just sat there.
Burning in silence.
After so time I decided to take a glance of myself in the mirror.
I sat in front of my vanity, staring at my reflection like it might crack if I looked too long.
My cheeks were flushed. My lips were still swollen. I couldn't stop thinking about that dream—the way he touched me like he owned me. Like I wanted to be owned.
I didn't even know who he was.
Except… some part of me did.
A knock on the door made me jump.
Then came the familiar voice: "My Lady, I brought your dress! And some tea. And scandal."
I sighed. "Come in, Nara."
The door opened, and in danced a whirlwind in a maid's uniform. Nara—my personal handmaid and the kingdom's biggest gossip—bounced in with a tray of tea, a silk gown, and the kind of grin that meant trouble.
"Scandal?" I raised a brow.
"Oh yes," she said dramatically, setting the tray down. "And not the mild kind. The sweaty kind."
I blinked. "Sweaty?"
She leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Apparently—and this is just what I heard—one of the kitchen maids went into town for fresh herbs, and guess who she saw?"
"Who?"
She dropped her voice to a loud whisper. "The young master."
My stomach twisted. "Silas?"
"Yes!" she squealed, practically vibrating. "She said he looked so different. Taller. Broader. Darker. Like a villain from one of my favorite smutty novels."
I snorted, despite myself. "Nara…"
"I'm just saying!" She walked over with the dress and held it up. "If he even looked at me the way those fictional alphas do, I'd fold. Immediately. On the spot. Table, wall, floor—any surface, really."
"Nara," I warned, though my lips twitched.
But she was already lost in her own daydream. "She said he has this… aura. Like danger and sex and secrets. I kept thinking, gods, the positions he could put a girl in…"
I coughed, nearly choking on air.
She grinned at my reaction. "You're blushing, My Lady."
"I'm not."
"You so are."
I turned away, trying to focus on the dress she laid out. A deep crimson gown with slits up both legs and a neckline that dared anyone to look.
"This is too much," I muttered. "It's a dinner, not a battle."
"Oh, but isn't it?" she said, eyes dancing. "Your husband's whole family will be there. And now Silas too?" She wagged her brows. "I'd say that's war zone attire."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
I hated how right she was.
The royal dinner wasn't just a welcome party. It was a political display. A test. A pressure cooker.
And now the man everyone was whispering about—the man who haunted my dreams—was going to be sitting just a few feet away.
Across from me.
Beside my husband.
I closed my eyes.
Gods, let me survive this night without burning.