The Curse Of The Alpha’s Mate

Chapter 2

The shadows in the corners of my room move; forming a tall silhouette.

I try to move my limbs, only to realize that my body has fallen asleep; paralyzed. But my mind is very much awake, and my eyes darts across the dark room, streaked only by the moonlight.

The shadow steps forward into the light, and a man looms over me; hair dark as midnight, eyes passionate as sin, his presence a domineering, sizzling aura.

Dmitri Amoux; I know it’s him, with no introductions, with no explanations.

His tempestuous gaze slides over my body and I shiver; it feels like invisible hands caressing my skin, leaving in their wake feverish craving.

Fear coils in the pit of my stomach; my heart beating wildly like a bird caught in a cage made up of my ribs.

“Hello Fiona.” He says.

His voice is husky and thick; like someone who had just rolled out of bed, and it sends shockwaves of electricity deliciously coursing through my body.

My breaths are coming out in short gasps.

“Are you scared of me Fiona?” He tilts his head to the side, dark eyes still keenly, closely observing me.

I catch a glimpse of the tattoos covering his neck; the top two buttons of his black shirt undone. His sleeves are rolled up, letting me have a view of veiny arms —one of them blanketed with intricate tattoos.

I want to ask why I can’t move; how he got in there; if I’m dreaming, but I part my lips and only a shaky breath comes out. My mind is entangled with a wild, burning sensation.

I have to be dreaming. There is no other explanation.

Dmitri leans over me. His hands reach into a strap on his waist, and brings out a small knife; it’s wickedly sharp edge glinting in the moonlight.

I gasp; my eyes going wild, but still, I do not move. I dare not. I cannot.

He crouches down near my face and strokes my cheek with a finger. “May I?”

I find myself nodding; caught under a spell of fear and desire; curiosity and desperation. My mind has muddled under the influence of his presence, and I can think of nothing but his hands on my skin, his lips on mine, our bodies tangled together.

Suddenly I’m grateful for the fact that I cannot move, cause I don’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself if I could.

I hold still even though I can’t move. I hold my very breath as he slips the blade between my skin and the first strap of my nightgown. It’s warm, likely from being so close to his body. The strap gives away with ease beneath the sharp edge. Then another, and another, and yet another.

“Do you remember your safe word, Fiona?”

Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I feel almost delirious with breathlessness. Every fiber of my body is tingling as I nod; desperate to keep him going despite having no idea what my safe word is; why I’d need one in the first place. I’m trembling so badly, I can feel my muscles quake.

He rises and climbs onto the bed. He takes my hands and guides them up to the headboard. “Keep them here, amore mio.”

Even if I could move them, I doubt I would.

Dmitri reaches for my nightstand, producing a black silk blindfold.

This is when I realize that we are not in my room. The covers of the bed are too soft; the space too large; the scent of rosewood and lavender present in the air. And I would never, ever have a blindfold on my nightstand. It is too dark; the shadows too dense to make out other furniture, but I can distinctly tell there’s a chandelier suspended from the ceiling above the bed.

“Amore mio…” he whispers, dipping his head in the crook of my neck and tracing feathery kisses down my skin.

My eyes droop close. The silken softness of the blindfold adds a layer of darkness to my already impaired vision. An abyss of carnal passion opens in the pit of my stomach.

I’m falling, falling, falling…

“Fiona, amore mio…” his voice echoes. “You are mine.”

Mine, mine, mine…

And then his touch sets my body aflame.

I gasp; waking up drenched in cold sweat. For a few seconds I hear nothing but the wild beating of my heart as I pant; trying to catch my breath. Slowly, as I regain control of my lungs, the persistent beeping of my alarm clock reaches my ears.

4:00am; I’m supposed to start studying.

I sigh, reach over, and turn it off.

The events of my dream flood back to me in a distorted sequence and my body heats up despite my discomfort and embarrassment.

Just a mention of the man and I’m already having inappropriate dreams about him.

I groan and flop backwards into my soft pillows; shutting my eyes tightly and running a hand over my face.

This cannot be happening to me; I can’t possibly be having conflicted feelings at this point.

The darkness is comforting. I strain my ears to hear everything going on around me; the soft snoring of my roommate Vanessa, stealthy footsteps overhead from collage students sneaking around the halls and dorm rooms, my own shallow breathing, the gentle breeze whistling through the open windows.

Wait… open windows?!

I shoot up in bed and scramble out of my sheets; my tangled legs almost making me trip. I can see the moon perfectly from the windows, and it’s bright light clears a path for me as I tip toe to the windows.

Dread creeps up my spine and my whole body shudders. It feels like the wind is grasping at my shirt; snaking invisible hands up my torso, over my shoulders, tickling my back.

I remember shutting this window without a doubt. And Vanessa couldn’t have been the one to open it cause she was already fast asleep when I closed it.

I glance up at the almost full moon; hanging heavy and luminous on the dark blue, starless, cloudless sky.

*Fiona, amore mio…*

*Amore mio…*

*Fiona…*

The wind seems to know my secrets; the contents of my dreams; the erratic beating of my heart. It snakes a hand in my hair; playfully teasing, dangerously close, blurring the lines of reality, dreams, and pure imagination.

I shut the window so forcefully, the glass pane rattles, and Vanessa stirs in her sleep.