Lycan King's Forbidden Obsession

The second nightmare

Serena's pov

I woke up screaming. This time, he was there.

The dinner with Alejandro stayed with me long after I returned to my room. His words echoed in my head, and I could still feel the warmth of his golden eyes on my face. I could still hear the low rumble of his voice when he said, "I do not know how to be good, but I am trying." I lay in bed that night with the cloak wrapped around my shoulders and the note still in my pocket. I stared at the ceiling and wondered if I was brave enough to believe him.

Sleep came slowly, and when it finally came, it brought the nightmares with it.

The dream came without warning, and it swallowed me whole before I could fight it.

I was standing in my childhood home again, but this time, everything was wrong. The walls were dripping with water, the floorboards were rotting beneath my feet, and the air smelled like blood and sickness and something else, something that reminded me of death. The cottage that had once been filled with my mother's warmth and the scent of her herbs was now cold and dark, and I could hear something scratching at the walls, something that sounded like claws on wood.

My mother was lying on the floor, and her grey eyes were open, staring at nothing, and her chest was not moving. The blood was pooling around her body, and it was spreading across the wooden floor like spilled wine, and I could see my own reflection in it. I tried to run to her, but my feet would not move, my legs would not work, and my arms were frozen at my sides like they had been tied down by invisible ropes.

"Serena."

My stepmother's voice came from behind me, and it was soft and sweet and full of poison, the same voice she had used when she smiled before she hit me. I turned my head, and she was standing in the doorway. Her smile was wide and sharp, and her eyes were black like coal. Her hands were covered in blood, and the blood was dripping onto the floor, and I knew whose blood it was.

"You killed her," she said, and her voice echoed off the walls. "You killed your mother, and you could not even remember doing it. You are a monster, just like me."

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My throat was closed, my lungs were empty, and I could not breathe.

"You are worthless," she said, as she stepped closer, and her hand raised, and I knew what was coming. "You have always been worthless, and you will always be worthless, and no one will ever love you. Your father sold you because you were nothing. The king will discard you because you are nothing. And I will always be here, waiting in your nightmares, because you cannot escape me."

Her hand came down.

I woke up screaming.

The sound tore out of my throat, and it was raw and loud and desperate, and I could not stop it. My whole body was shaking, and my hands were gripping the blankets so hard that my knuckles were white, and my face was wet with tears that I had not even realized I was crying. The pillow beneath my head was damp, my throat was sore, and my chest was heaving with each ragged breath I took.

The room was dark, the fire had burned down to nothing but embers, the shadows were thick and heavy, and I felt alone and cold.

But I was not alone.

Alejandro was there.

He was not standing in the doorway this time, and he was not watching me from the shadows. He had crossed the room, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His golden eyes were fixed on my face. His shirt was rumpled, his hair was messy, and he looked like he had been woken from a deep sleep. But he was here, and he had come closer when I screamed. Which only meant he had been in the room for a while.

His hand was on my back now, and the warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of my shirt, and I felt my shaking slow, just a little. The weight of his hand was solid and real. It anchored me to the present, and it reminded me that I was not back in that cottage with my stepmother's voice echoing in my ears.

"You are safe," he said, and his voice was low and rough. "No one will hurt you here."

I wanted to believe him, to trust him, and I wanted to let myself fall into the warmth of his touch and pretend that the world was not as cruel as I knew it was. The sound of his voice was steady, his hand was warm, and his presence felt like a wall between me and the darkness.

But I had been hurt by so many people, and I had been betrayed by so many people, and trusting anyone felt like handing them a knife and hoping they would not stab me. My father had promised to protect me, but he had sold me instead. My stepmother had promised to be kind, and she had beaten me instead. The guards had promised to be gentle, but they had put me in chains instead.

"How do you know?" I asked, as my voice came out broken. "How do you know that no one will hurt me? You cannot protect me from everything. Felipe is still out there, the court still wants me dead, and you cannot be everywhere at once."

Alejandro's jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck tensed, and his hand stilled on my back. I saw him swallow hard, and I saw his golden eyes flicker with something that looked like pain.

But he did not pull away.

"I know," he said, and his voice was quiet. "But I will try. I will try to protect you, I will try to keep you safe, and I will try to be good. That is all I can do, and that is all I can promise."

I looked at him, and his golden eyes were soft, softer than I had ever seen them. The hardness was gone, the coldness was gone, and there was nothing left but something vulnerable and almost human. I could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his hands were shaking, just a little.

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you try so hard? I am nothing. I am a sacrifice, a human, and I am broken in ways that might never heal."

Alejandro was quiet for a long moment, as the fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the wind howled outside, and the shadows danced on the walls. The embers glowed orange and red, and the room was cold, but his hand was still warm on my back.

"Because you are my mate," he said. His voice was low and rough. "And because you are the first thing in three hundred years that has made me want to be something other than a monster. I have killed more people than you can imagine, and I have done things that would make your blood run cold, but when I look at you, I want to be better."

I stared at him, as my heart was pounding. My throat was tight, and my eyes were burning with tears that I refused to let fall. His words settled into my chest, and they were heavy and warm, and they felt like something I had been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.

"Stay," I whispered.

Alejandro did not answer with words. He just nodded once, lay down beside me on the bed, as the mattress creaked under his weight, and his body was warm against mine. His shoulder brushed against my arm, and his leg was close enough that I could feel the heat of it through the blankets.

He did not touch or hold me, and he did not pull me close. He just lay there, with his golden eyes stared at the ceiling, and his breathing was slow and steady. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, I could hear the quiet rhythm of his breath, and I felt something inside me loosen, just a little.

I stared at the ceiling too, and I listened to the sound of his breathing. I felt the warmth of his body beside mine. The shadows were still there, the cold was still there, and the nightmares were still waiting for me in the darkness.

But I was not alone.

And for now, that was enough.