I Met My Fated Alpha Inside a Dream

"You again?" I shrieked, scrambling backward across the dusty floorboards.

The rotting wooden cabin looked exactly the same. The heavy rain battered the roof, a relentless drumming that rattled my teeth. I sat in the exact spot I had been yesterday. The same gloom, the same chill.

Owen sat across from me, leaning against the far wall. He didn't look like a monster right now. He looked like the boy who had just transferred to my history class. But his eyes—that unnatural, piercing gold—fixed on me with a mixture of annoyance and boredom.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, rolling his broad shoulders. "I don't know why we're back here either."

"This is a nightmare," I said, my voice trembling. I pushed myself up, ignoring the burning ache in my muscles. "I'm waking up right now."

"Sit down," he snapped.

"No!" I spun toward the heavy oak door. "I'm not staying in a room with a monster."

Owen pushed off the wall, his boots thudding against the floor. "You can't go out there. There are Rogues."

"Rogues?" I grabbed the rusted iron handle. "I don't care about your imaginary words. This is my dream, and I'm leaving."

"Are you deaf?" His hand slammed flat against the wood, inches from my fingers, pinning the door shut. The heat radiating off his skin felt suffocating. "A Rogue will rip your throat out before you make it ten yards."

I glared up at him. "It's a dream, Owen. Nothing out there can actually hurt me."

"You're an Omega. You smell like prey. If you step outside, you die."

"Good!" I yanked the door open, slipping under his arm. The freezing rain hit me instantly, soaking my pajamas. "If I die in the dream, I wake up!"

"You're out of your mind!" he shouted from the doorway.

I didn't stop. I ran into the dark, dense forest, my bare feet slipping in the thick mud. The cold bit into my skin. I heard a low, guttural howl echo through the trees to my left.

Perfect.

I changed direction, sprinting straight toward the sound.

"Stop!" Owen's voice cracked through the storm, closer now. He was chasing me. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Yes!" I yelled back over my shoulder. I stumbled over a thick tree root and kept going. "Just let me die so I can go home!"

"You're impossible!" he roared. "Go ahead, then! See what happens!"

A massive shadow detached itself from the trees ahead.

It wasn't a normal animal. It was huge, covered in matted gray fur, with yellow eyes that locked onto me like a target. Saliva dripped from jaws lined with jagged, yellowed teeth. The Rogue.

It didn't hesitate. It lunged.

I braced myself for the impact, squeezing my eyes shut. *Wake up, wake up, wake up.*

The beast slammed into my chest. The force threw me backward, my head cracking against a jagged rock. Pain exploded through my skull, sharp and blinding. Claws tore into my shoulder, shredding fabric and skin. I screamed, a raw, tearing sound that ripped from my throat.

The pain was real. It burned like fire.

Why wasn't I waking up?

The Rogue snapped its jaws inches from my face. Its foul breath choked me.

A heavy weight slammed into the beast, knocking it off me.

I gasped for air, clutching my bleeding shoulder. Through the pouring rain, I saw Owen. He hadn't shifted into a wolf. He fought the Rogue in his human form, his fists striking with brutal, terrifying force. He caught the beast by the throat, his muscles straining, and slammed its head against a tree trunk until it went limp.

He dropped the carcass and turned to me, his chest heaving. Blood streaked his face.

"Still think it's a dream?" he snarled, marching over and hauling me to my feet.

I cried out as fire shot down my arm. "Why am I still here? It hurts!"

He didn't answer. He threw my good arm over his shoulder and dragged me back through the mud, half-carrying me toward the cabin. Every step sent fresh waves of agony through my body.

He kicked the cabin door shut behind us and deposited me onto a ragged armchair.

"Why didn't I wake up?" I sobbed, pressing my hand against my torn shoulder. Blood seeped between my fingers.

Owen crouched in front of me. He pulled a small, battered tin box from his jacket pocket. "Because you're stupid."

"You said I'd die!"

"I said a Rogue would kill you. I didn't say it would be quick." He popped the tin open, extracting a wad of gauze and a foul-smelling paste. "Hold still."

"Get away from me!" I shoved his chest, but he didn't budge.

"I just saved your life. Let me fix your arm before you bleed out."

"It's a dream!" I screamed, tears mixing with the rain on my face. "I'm asleep in my bed!"

"Then why are you bleeding?" He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from the wound. He smeared the paste over the deep scratches.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming again. The paste stung, but a strange, numbing cold quickly followed.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

Owen kept his eyes on my shoulder, wrapping the gauze tight. "I told you yesterday. I'm the Alpha."

"But you're in my history class."

He finally looked up, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "I'm exactly where I need to be."

My vision blurred. The pain in my head throbbed, beating in time with my racing heart. I looked past him, up at the wall.

The rusted clock hung crookedly above the doorframe.

The minute hand clicked.

One o'clock.

Blackness swallowed me.

***

I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air.

The digital numbers on my nightstand glared: 5:00 AM.

My pulse hammered in my ears. I threw the blankets off and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. My shoulder throbbed.

I reached up, my fingers brushing my skin.

I winced.

I stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the harsh overhead light. I turned sideways, inspecting my shoulder in the mirror.

There was no blood. No torn flesh. No gauze.

But beneath the surface of my skin, a deep, angry red bruise blossomed exactly where the Rogue's claws had struck.

I pressed two fingers to my forehead. A sharp ache flared instantly, right where I had hit the rock.

"It's not real," I whispered, staring at my pale reflection. "It's just a dream."

But the pain was real. I could feel every invisible wound.

***

"You look worse than yesterday."

Lily slammed her locker shut, nearly catching my fingers.

"Thanks," I muttered, leaning against the metal row. My entire body ached. Walking down the hallway felt like wading through wet cement. Every time a student bumped my shoulder, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying out.

"Did you have another nightmare?" she asked, falling into step beside me as we headed toward first period.

"Yes." I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache. "It was the same cabin. The same boy. Owen."

"The hot transfer student?" Lily grinned. "Okay, now you're just writing fanfiction in your sleep."

"It's not funny, Lily. I ran out of the cabin, and this... this monster attacked me. A Rogue."

"A what?"

"A giant wolf. It tackled me. I hit my head on a rock, and it clawed my shoulder." I stopped walking, turning to face her. "Owen fought it off and patched me up."

Lily sighed, shifting her backpack on her shoulder. "Vivian, you're stressing yourself out over nothing. You probably slept on your arm wrong."

"I didn't sleep on it wrong! Look!" I pulled the collar of my shirt down, exposing my shoulder.

Lily leaned in, her brow furrowing. "Look at what?"

"The bruise!"

"Vivian, there's nothing there."

I stared at her, then looked down at my own skin.

She was right. The angry red mark I had seen in the bathroom mirror was gone. My skin was completely clear.

"But it hurts," I insisted, pressing my hand against the spot. "I can feel it."

"You're imagining things," Lily said gently, linking her arm through my good one. "Mr. Miller assigned three chapters of reading last night. You're just exhausted. You need to stop watching sci-fi movies before bed."

"I don't watch sci-fi movies."

"Well, whatever you're doing, stop." She pulled me toward the classroom. "Dreams can't hurt you."

I let her drag me into the room, but my stomach twisted into tight knots. She didn't understand. She couldn't feel the phantom claws tearing into her flesh.

I dropped into my seat by the window. I didn't pull out my notebook. I didn't try to draw the clock.

I stared at the front of the room.

The door opened.

Owen walked in. He wore the same dark jacket. He didn't look tired. He didn't look like he had spent the night fighting a giant wolf in a freezing rainstorm.

He walked down the aisle, stopping right beside my desk.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"How's the shoulder?" he whispered.