Sandy's POV
The dream felt so real I could taste it. That intoxicating scent of cedar and bourbon wrapped around me like silk, refusing to let me escape back to unconsciousness.
Every nerve in my body came alive as phantom fingers traced my skin, sending electric currents through my bloodstream. The sensation was so overwhelming that my toes curled beneath the sheets, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.
The spell held me captive until I finally forced my heavy eyelids open.
A plain gray ceiling stared back at me, foreign and unwelcoming. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to piece together what had happened.
Then the memories crashed into me like a tidal wave. Dominic's fist connecting with my skull. The sickening crack as my head hit the wall. All because of that pathetic excuse for a woman he insisted on protecting.
That final blow had shattered something inside me. Whatever twisted love I'd harbored for my husband had died in that moment, leaving nothing but cold hatred in its wake.
I pushed myself upright, wincing as pain shot through my skull. My fingers explored the tender spots where bruises were forming, grateful to find no open wounds or blood.
But that scent hit me again, stronger this time, making my head spin with its potency.
My hand fell to my side as I searched the room, following the intoxicating trail until my gaze landed on a figure seated in the shadows.
A man sat in the wingback chair like he owned not just the furniture, but the entire world. Half his face remained hidden in darkness, but what I could see made my breath catch in my throat.
He was devastatingly beautiful in the most dangerous way possible. Sharp cheekbones carved from marble, lips that promised both pleasure and pain, and a nose that spoke of aristocratic bloodlines. When my eyes finally met his, my entire world tilted on its axis.
'Mate!' Taylor practically screamed in my mind, her excitement so intense it made me dizzy.
My wolf had been silent for so long I'd wondered if she'd given up entirely. But one look at this man had brought her roaring back to life.
I let my gaze wander over his imposing frame. Even seated, his presence dominated the room. The crisp white shirt he wore did nothing to hide the powerful muscles beneath, and I found myself imagining what those abs would feel like under my palms. My eyes drifted lower to his black pants, and I quickly looked away before I could notice anything that would make this situation even more complicated.
You're still married, I reminded myself harshly.
"Fascinating," he murmured, his voice like aged whiskey poured over gravel.
The single word sent shivers down my spine. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.
"You're my mate," I whispered. "Do you feel it too?"
The air in the room shifted, becoming thick with an oppressive energy that made it hard to breathe. His power pressed against me like a physical weight, and Taylor whimpered before retreating deep into my consciousness.
"I know you by a different title entirely," he said, crossing one leg over the other with predatory grace.
My palms grew slick with sweat. "Listen, I can explain—"
"You're my nephew's Luna," he cut me off, his tone sharp enough to draw blood.
The words hit me like a physical blow. The room seemed to spin as the implications crashed over me in waves of horror and disbelief.
"Charles Ezekiel," I breathed his name like a prayer and a curse combined.
Lightning flashed outside the window behind him, illuminating his broad shoulders and casting his face in stark relief. Those piercing blue eyes studied me with the intensity of a hawk circling its prey.
"I assume you're not eager to die tonight?" His fingers drummed against the armrest in a rhythm that matched my racing heartbeat.
"Are you threatening to kill me for saying your name?" Heat flooded my cheeks despite the danger.
"Wouldn't that be the logical response?" He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
A reckless smile spread across my face. "Killing your fated mate is the one sin the Maw Goddess never forgives."
His fingers stopped their drumming. His head tilted slightly as his gaze traveled down my body, taking inventory of every curve and hollow with clinical precision.
Something wild and desperate unfurled in my chest. This was it. This was my chance at freedom.
I threw off the blankets and crossed the room before rational thought could stop me. His eyes tracked my movement, wary but undeniably intrigued.
Without hesitation, I settled myself on his lap, gasping at the contact. He was solid muscle and raw power, making my mouth go dry. His breath ghosted across my lips, and I could feel the tension coiling in his body.
His arms remained firmly planted on the armrests, refusing to touch me.
Heat exploded through my veins as sparks danced across my skin. I stared at his mouth, mesmerized, before crushing my lips against his.
He tasted like danger and promises, like whiskey and power. The world disappeared behind my closed eyelids as I lost myself in the sensation.
His lips moved slightly against mine, but he didn't return the kiss. Electricity crackled between us as I moaned softly and tilted my head to deepen the contact.
Suddenly, his hand fisted in my hair and yanked our mouths apart. I panted against his lips, watching as he traced his mouth with his free hand.
Our eyes locked, and the heat in his gaze could have melted steel. Every ounce of my courage transformed into liquid desire.
"What should I call you now, Uncle Charles?" I murmured, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. "Is that still appropriate?"
"What game are you playing?" His hand closed around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make his point.
I swallowed carefully. "I'm kissing my mate."
His grip tightened, and his voice dropped to a rasp. "Careful, little one. They might never find your remains."
My vision blurred as oxygen became scarce, but I couldn't stop myself from pushing further. "As long as you visit me every day, I don't mind."
He studied my watery eyes for a long moment before standing abruptly.
I hit the floor hard, pain shooting up my spine as I rolled dramatically across the carpet.
"Why would you drop your mate like that?" I wheezed.
"My nephew's mate," he corrected coldly, moving toward the door.
"I'll reject him immediately!" I scrambled to my feet, desperation making me bold. "I don't care about him anymore."
The temperature in the room plummeted. Charles paused at the door, glancing back with a look that promised violence.
"Stay away. You won't survive a second encounter."
He slammed the door behind him, leaving me breathless and exhilarated.
Instead of fear, I felt triumphant. "At least you didn't kill me today!" I shouted at the closed door. "That's not like you, Alpha King! Already falling for your mate?"
Silence answered me, but I didn't care. I glanced down at the black nightgown I was wearing, suddenly aware of my bare legs and the way the thin fabric revealed everything.
How embarrassing. But it didn't matter.
I'd found my way out. Charles Ezekiel, the Alpha King himself, was my mate. The prophecy demanded I stay with a Ezekiel man, but it never specified which one.
Now I just needed to give Dominic exactly what he deserved.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the door exploded open with a crash that shook the walls.
I spun around to find Dominic filling the doorway, his eyes shifting between human and wolf as rage radiated from every inch of his trembling body.
"Why the hell do I smell another man on you, Sandy?" he snarled, charging toward me like a bull seeing red.
There was nowhere to run, so I—