7
Luna
Notebook: If it’s too good to be true, you’re probably dreaming.
Fire licks at my heels as I run through an endless corridor with locked doors. The smoke is so thick I can’t see, breathe, or think beyond the desperate need to escape. My parents’ screams echo in my ears. The corridor stretches impossibly longbefore me, doors melting into one another, the ceiling dripping molten paint that hisses when it hits my skin. I stumble, my legs buckling beneath me. The stench of burning flesh fills my nostrils.
“Shhhh,” a voice murmurs, deep and steady, cutting through the fear. “You’re safe.”
Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the fire, from the endless corridor of locked doors.
I struggle at first, then collapse against the broad chest.
“I’ve got you,” the voice rumbles, the sound vibrating through me. “Nothing can hurt you now.”
The fire recedes, the smoke clearing.
I can breathe again, each lungful less painful than the last.
The arms around me are solid, anchoring me to something beyond the terror.
I press closer, desperate for the safety they promise.
Warmth surrounds me, seeping into my bones, thawing the fear.
It feels… good.
Right.
I let myself sink into it, this unexpected sanctuary.
But the warmth grows, intensifying.
What was comforting becomes stifling.
I’m hot.
Too hot.
Suffocating.
Abruptly, my eyes snap open.
Someone’s breathing, deep and even, stirs the hair at my nape. I look down and see strong male legs tangled with mine. A large arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place.
Panic floods me, icy and swift.
I scream and drive my elbow back with every ounce of force I can muster. It connects with solid muscle. A male grunt besidemy ear, the arm around my waist loosens just enough. I twist, and my fist shoots up and connects with his face. I hear the satisfying crunch reverberate as his head jerks back.
“Ouch!” The voice is deep, gravelly, tinged with disbelief rather than anger.
I scramble to escape, but my legs tangle in the throw blanket, sending me crashing to the floor with a thud.
The door bursts open with a resounding crash against the wall as a figure storms into the room. The lights flicker on, blinding me momentarily.
“Axel! What the hell are you doing?” Alpha Hudson’s voice booms, filled with fury.
The male, Axel, remains on the edge of my mattress. His wild blond hair falls in untamed waves to his shoulders, framing a striking face. His light-blue eyes are crinkled with amusement as he laughs—a low, throaty sound.
