My Killer Calls Me Mate

Anatoria's POV: “Please, Goddess. Please!” I cried out as the smell of decaying leaves and crushed pine needles filled my lungs, burning like fire with every breath I took as I ran for my life. I didn't know who was chasing me, only that the predator behind me possessed a terrifying speed. Suddenly, my bare foot caught on an exposed root. "Ah!" The gasp escaped my throat as I lost my balance and slipped, tumbling hard onto the wet earth. Panting, I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, desperately turning around to face my pursuer and my breath hitched. It wasn't a monster or a rogue, it was my husband, Lucian, the Alpha of the Redmoon Pack. But there was no warmth in his golden-brown eyes as he raised the silver gun on his right hand and pointed directly between my eyes. "Lucian?" My voice trembled. "Lucian, what are you doing?" He didn't answer, he just adjusted his grip, his finger resting heavily against the trigger. "Please, don't do this! I beg you, Lucian, don't kill me!" Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the dirt on my cheeks as I pressed myself against the base of a massive oak tree, wishing it would swallow me whole. "Why are you doing this? What did I do? Please, look at me! It’s me, Anatoria!" “No, please…" My cries died out when he pulled the trigger. “Arghh!!!” I screamed, my voice tearing through the silence as I bolted upright and my eyes flew open, staring wildly at the dark canopy of our master bedroom. ‘It was all a dream again.’ I told myself, my whole body shaking as I squeezed my eyes shut. For the past few days, these nightmares had become inescapable. The surroundings changed every single night, sometimes it was a crumbling castle, sometimes a barren wasteland, tonight a suffocating forest, but it always ended with Lucian pointing his silver straight at my face, and pulling the trigger. I had told Lucian about a couple of them at the beginning of the week and assured me with a soft laugh that it was just stress playing tricks on my mind. But despite his reassuring words, the repetition was starting to get really scary. A werewolf dreaming of silver was bad enough, but dreaming of your own mate using it to execute you? Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady my erratic breathing. Then, I reached out my arm, ready to once again cuddle Lucian to sleep as I usually did whenever these nightmares woke me up but my hand met empty, cold sheets. Hissing loudly, I threw back the heavy duvet and got out of bed then I paused by the edge of the bed when a thought struck me. ‘Maybe he hadn't made it to the study yet.’ Just yesterday, I had begged him to take a few days of rest instead of constantly having to leave his sleep halfway just to go work himself to the bone. Hoping he had actually listened to me, I walked over to the adjoining bathroom and pushed the door open. "Lucian?" I called but the bathroom was empty which made a spark of annoyance flare up inside me. Determined to drag him back to bed, or at least sit on his lap until he agreed to close his laptop, I left the bedroom and walked slowly toward his private study, preparing a gentle lecture in my head about the importance of sleep. When I reached the heavy oak doors of the study, I didn't bother knocking. I turned the handle and pushed it open. "Lucian, you promised me you would…" The words died in my throat because the laptop on his desk was shut, and his leather chair was empty. I stepped back into the hallway, my annoyance melting away, replaced by a creeping sense of worry as my heart, which had just started to calm down from the nightmare, picked up its pace again. “Where could my husband be at three o'clock in the morning if he wasn't in the study?” I asked aloud, rubbing my arms against a sudden chill. Then, a thought occurred to me. Most days, when he couldn't sleep and didn't want the harsh light of the study to keep him awake, he would spend time in the grand library on the lower floor. “Right. The library.” I muttered to myself, trying to soothe the irrational anxiety bubbling up in my chest. Then, I turned and made my way down the winding staircase, my bare feet making no sound against the carpeted steps. The mansion was dead silent, making every shift of the wind outside sound incredibly loud as I walked down the long corridor that led to the east wing, where the library was housed. As I approached the double doors of the library, which were cracked open just a tiny fraction, a sound cut through the silence and I froze. Tonight wouldn't be the first time un-mated staff let their instincts get the better of them in secluded parts of the estate. Disgusted, I turned around, intending to leave and let them have their privacy, and confront whoever it was in the morning about respecting public spaces. But before I could take a single step away, another froze me in place when the female voice gasped again, louder this time. “Oh... God, Lucian... yes…” The air left my lungs as if I had been violently struck in the stomach. Driven by a sickening compulsion, my feet moved against my will and I pushed the library door open a fraction more, slipping inside like a ghost. The air in the library smelt faintly of old paper, vanilla, and a heavy, unmistakable scent of arousal that made me want to vomit but I followed the muffled sounds, walking deeper into the labyrinth of towering bookshelves. My hands shook so violently I had to press them against my sides to keep from brushing against the wood and giving myself away. Then I rounded a corner, stepped behind a large shelf of books that housed the pack's oldest encyclopedias. Through the gap between the shelves, the moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating my best friend, Lauren pressed against the edge of a mahogany table, her fingers clutching the wood so tightly her knuckles were white and standing right behind her, his hands gripping her hips was Lucian, my husband.