Blinding high beams. The deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. A violent jolt forward.

Then, total darkness.

I blinked open my eyes, expecting the sterile lights of a hospital room.

Instead, an unfamiliar white ceiling loomed over me. Cold air brushed my bare skin.

"Where the hell am I?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"My bed."

The deep, gravelly voice startled me.

I turned my head. A man lay beside me, his face half-buried in the pillow. His dark eyelashes were ridiculously thick against his cheek.

"Did I hit someone?" I asked, sitting up slightly. "The car crash..."

"You didn't hit anyone," he mumbled, shifting under the sheets. "You just hit the whiskey bottle too hard."

My brain screamed to run. Get up. Find your clothes. Flee.

My body ignored the warning entirely.

I looked at his broad, bare shoulders. A strange heat pooled in my stomach. Without a single conscious thought, I rolled over and smashed my mouth against his lips.

Complete insanity.

Yet, the physical instinct overpowered all logic. My hands tangled in his thick hair, pulling him closer.

I yanked my head back, breaking the kiss abruptly. "Who are you?"

The man groaned. His eyes fluttered open, revealing striking amber irises. "You fuck me all night, and by morning you forget who I am?"

"I don't know you." I tried to sound angry, but my hips betrayed me, sliding closer to his radiating heat.

He smirked, clearly assuming this was a game. "I'm your favorite, Kael."

"Kael," I repeated. The name meant absolutely nothing to me.

"Don't act shy now," he teased, his voice thick with sleep. "You weren't shy when you were screaming my name three hours ago."

"I don't remember anything," I said, my heart racing.

"You drank half a bottle of liquor. But your body remembers."

His scent—a sharp, intoxicating blend of pine and male sweat—gripped my senses. It pulled me in like a magnet. My thighs burned, a deep soreness screaming that we had spent hours tearing each other apart.

"I need to leave," I lied.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his large hand sliding up my bare thigh.

"I'm not acting," I insisted, even as I leaned my face inches from his.

"Prove it."

Kael met me halfway. His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue shoving past my lips, tasting of mint and raw desire.

Strange as it was, I barely knew him. Yet my body surrendered to him without resistance.

I didn't refuse to kiss him.

The wet slapping sound of our bodies filled the quiet room.

"That's it. Take it all," he grunted. His hands squeezed my bare breasts, his thumbs rolling roughly over my stiff nipples. "Tell me how good my dick feels."

I moaned, throwing my head back.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I opened my eyes, meeting his intense amber gaze.

"Harder," I demanded, increasing my pace.

"Demanding little slut this morning, aren't you?" he laughed, thrusting up hard to meet my downward rhythm.

A strange, overpowering urge seized my jaw. I dropped my head and sank my teeth directly into the thick muscle where his neck met his shoulder. I bit down hard, tasting copper. It felt like claiming him, forging an intimate link right into his skin. I had no idea why I needed to mark that exact spot.

"You want to leave a mark? Go ahead. Bite me again."

Sweat coated my forehead. I braced my hands on his shoulders, watching his handsome face shake violently with every upward thrust.

"Give it to me," I begged.

"I'm giving you everything," he snarled.

Then, the bedroom vanished.

A blinding flash of silver hijacked my vision.

A short, curved dagger. It plunged straight into Kael's left chest. Blood sprayed, hot and crimson, soaking through a dark shirt. The metallic smell of blood replaced the scent of pine.

The image disappeared just as fast.

I gasped, my fingers locking around his thick wrist like a vise. I stopped moving completely.

"What the fuck is wrong?" Kael asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You're going to be in danger on a cliff in a week," I blurted out, panic making my voice shrill.

Kael didn't pull out. He just reached up, pinched my cheek, and laughed loudly.

"Liora, your storytelling is getting better," he chuckled. He dragged his mouth down my throat, his tongue lapping at my collarbone. "Is this a new roleplay?"

"I'm not Liora," I said, shoving his shoulder hard. "I'm Clara."

"You can be whoever you want to be," Kael murmured against my skin. He snapped his hips up again, forcing a loud moan from my lips. "Just keep riding me."

"Listen to me!" I yelled, trying to pull away.

"I'm listening to your pussy grip my dick," he replied, grabbing my hips to hold me firmly in place.

"I saw a knife!"

"I'll give you something sharp right now," he grunted, fucking me faster, harder, until the room spun.

He fucked me until my body completely gave out. I collapsed heavily over his chest, gasping for air.

When it was over, the silence of the room returned, thick and suffocating.

"Good girl," he whispered, his eyes closing. He fell asleep almost instantly, his breathing evening out.

I lay there, wide awake. Absolute terror clawed at my throat.

I was twenty-two years old. I had never lost control of myself. I had never jumped a stranger, begged for his dick, or bitten his flesh like a wild animal.

"What is happening to me?" I whispered to the empty room.

That vision of the silver dagger wasn't a hallucination. It felt like a memory of something that hadn't happened yet. And it was crystal clear.

My gaze drifted down to Kael's left chest.

Right where the blade had entered in my mind, a faint, glowing silver mark was already forming on his skin.

Kael stretched lazily before climbing out of bed. He pulled on a pair of dark trousers, buttoned his shirt halfway, then glanced back at me with a crooked grin.

"You really should get some sleep."

I barely heard him.

The moment he reached for the doorknob, another violent flash ripped through my mind.

A heavy ceramic flowerpot.

Cracked terracotta.

Dark soil exploding across the pavement.

And Kael—

Standing directly beneath it.

My heart lurched.

"Wait!"

My voice came out much louder than I intended.

Kael paused, one eyebrow lifting. "What now?"

I stared at him, the image still burning behind my eyes.

"Don't leave through the front entrance."

He chuckled. "Why?"

"Because..." I swallowed hard. "A flowerpot is going to fall from one of the upper floors. It'll hit you."

He stared at me for two seconds before laughing outright.

"That's your emergency?"

"I'm serious."

"Liora," he said, amused, "if you're trying to keep me in bed, there are much more convincing excuses."

"I'm not joking!" I grabbed his wrist. "Please. Just wait a minute."

He gently pried my fingers away.

"I'll survive a flowerpot."

Then he walked out.

Every instinct screamed at me to chase after him.

I threw on the first robe I could find and ran barefoot into the hallway.

By the time I reached the apartment lobby, Kael had already stepped outside.

"Kael!"

He turned at the sound of my voice.

At that exact second—

Crash!

A large ceramic planter plummeted from the balcony several stories above.

It smashed against the edge of the building before slamming into Kael's shoulder instead of his head.

The impact knocked him sideways onto one knee.

Terracotta shards exploded across the pavement as soil and shattered roots scattered everywhere.

Gasps erupted from pedestrians.

Kael froze for a heartbeat, then slowly looked from the broken planter...to me.

His teasing smile vanished.

"..."

"Why," he asked quietly, "did you know that was going to happen?"

"I told you I could see it."

But I didn't know why, either.

All I knew was that the vision had come true.

And if this one was real...

Then the silver dagger buried in Kael's chest a week from now might be real, too.

"I'll see you tonight," Kael muttered.

"This might just be a coincidence."

He pulled his dark shirt over his head, hiding the glowing silver mark I had just seen forming on his chest.

"Wait," I said, grabbing the edge of the sheet.

He paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "Don't start acting needy, Liora. You know I have pack business."

"I'm not being needy," I snapped. "I just want to know what the hell is going on."

"You just want another round?" He smirked, his amber eyes flashing with arrogance. "Save your energy. I'll break the bed tonight."

"That's not what I meant," I argued.

"Rest up," he interrupted.

He didn't wait for a response. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room in absolute silence.

"Who the hell is Liora?" I asked the empty room.

I tore through the unfamiliar bedroom. I yanked open the mahogany dresser drawers. Silk garments spilled onto the Persian rug.

"There has to be something here," I muttered.

I ripped the pillow from the nightstand chair. A small leather-bound book clattered to the hardwood floor.

I scooped it up and flipped the cover open. The name *Liora Mercer* stared back at me in elegant, looping cursive.

"This is her body," I whispered. "I'm trapped in Liora's body."

I marched to the bedroom door and yanked it wide. The hallway sat empty. I stomped down the corridor until I spotted a woman in a gray uniform polishing a side table.

I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist.

She flinched, dropping her cloth. "Miss Liora!"

"Who is Rhette?" I demanded. It was a name I'd caught on the diary's first page.

The maid's eyes widened. She tugged her arm, but I dug my fingers in.

"Miss Liora, you're hurting me."

"Answer the question."

"He's out of town," she stammered, staring at my grip.

"I didn't ask where he was. Who is he?"

"He won't be back for three days, Miss."

"Stop dodging the question!" I squeezed harder. "Who is Rhette to me?"

"He is your stepbrother, Miss Liora. Please."

I dropped her hand. "My stepbrother."

"Yes. Should I try to call him?"

"No. Leave me alone."

I spun around, retreated to the bedroom, and slammed the heavy oak door. I collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, opening the diary to the middle pages. I needed answers, and this book was the only thing offering them.

"Let's see what you were hiding, Liora," I said, tracing the messy handwriting.

*I have five mates.*

I read the words aloud, my voice cracking. "Five mates? You've got to be kidding me."

I kept reading, speaking the words into the quiet room to make them feel real.

"Each one has a specific scent. The mate bond makes it impossible to resist. The moment I smell them, I lose control. I crave them."

I dragged a hand down my face. That explained the intense, irrational pull I felt toward Kael last night. It wasn't just the alcohol. It was this supposed mate bond.

I turned the page. The ink here looked rushed, almost frantic.

"Today, when sleeping with Kael, I foresaw his disaster."

My stomach plummeted.

"No," I whispered. "No, that was just a nightmare."

But I remembered the flashes from last night. The blood staining Kael's chest. The roaring fire consuming a grand hall. The agonizing screams.

"It was real," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "The vision was real."

Intimacy triggered the premonitions. The physical connection with Kael—my first Alpha mate—unlocked a window into his impending doom. I wasn't just having bad dreams. I was seeing the future.

I flipped past dozens of blank pages to the very end of the book. A single sentence sat in the center of the final page.

"Want to go back to your world?" I read aloud, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Below it, underlined twice: *Save all the Alphas If you want to go back to your world.*

I desperately wanted to go back but...

I stared at the paper. "Save them? From what? How am I supposed to save five different men?"

I suddenly realized I had to foresee their dangers if I wanted to save them.

But to do that, I had to sleep with them?

Just like...

Me and Kael.

This idea was too crazy. I must be mad.

A sharp knock startled me suddenly. I slammed the diary shut.

The door cracked open. The same maid peeked inside, her face pale.

"What now?" I snapped.

"Mr. Rhette just arrived," she said, her voice shaking.

"You just told me he was gone for three days."

"His trip was cut short. He is waiting in the parlor. He wants you downstairs immediately."

"Tell him I'm busy."

"Miss Liora, please," the maid begged, stepping fully into the room. "You know how he gets when you make him wait. He will punish the staff."

I gritted my teeth. "Fine. Give me two minutes."

"Thank you, Miss." She vanished, pulling the door shut behind her.

I tossed the diary under the mattress. I stripped off the rumpled silk nightgown and threw on a simple pair of jeans and a fitted black sweater. I needed to face this stepbrother. I needed to figure out exactly what kind of mess Liora had left me in.

I stepped out of the bedroom and headed for the grand staircase.

"Just a stepbrother," I muttered to myself. "Nothing to worry about."

But with every step down the wooden treads, a strange sensation crawled up my spine. My skin flushed. A heavy, undeniable warmth pooled in my lower belly.

Then, the scent hit me.

Pine needles and dark rum. Sharp. Intoxicating. Overwhelming.

My knees buckled. I grabbed the wooden banister to keep from tumbling down the stairs. My pulse roared in my ears.

"Liora."

"You're awake," he stated, not looking up.

My body ignored his words completely. The werewolf instinct inside this stolen flesh hijacked my brain. Another mate. My stepbrother was my fucking mate.

My pulse pounded a frantic rhythm. The scent of pine and dark rum battered my senses, urging me to run down the steps and throw myself at him. I dug my fingernails into my palms to anchor myself.

The scent grew stronger, wrapping around my mind like a vice. I fought the urge to step down. The diary's words echoed in my ears.

*The moment I smell them, I lose control.*

I stared down at the man watching me with intense, burning focus.

My own stepbrother.

He was my second mate.

And I was supposed to be the hero who saved him.

I crossed the room in three rapid strides. I grabbed his shirt collar, pulled him down, and smashed my mouth directly against his lips.

He froze. For a fraction of a second, his lips parted under mine. He tasted like black coffee and raw tension.

Then, his massive hands gripped my shoulders. He shoved me back with brutal force.

"What the fuck?" Rhette wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his amber eyes wide with shock. "Liora, I'm your brother."

"Stepbrother," I corrected. I licked my bottom lip, savoring his taste.

"Just a stepbrother?" His voice dropped an octave, laced with tight restraint. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," I said, stepping toward him again.

I stared at him. The mate bond roared in my veins, demanding I close the distance. Two mates? Was that even possible? I thought back to the worn leather diary hidden under my mattress. I remembered the glowing silver mark on Kael’s chest and the vivid vision of the bloody dagger.

If I fucked Rhette, would I see his future too? Would I foresee his disaster?

I had to test the theory.

"I need to go to your room," I blurted out.

Rhette crossed his muscular arms over his chest. "Absolutely not."

"I lost my earring," I lied smoothly. "It's in your room."

"You haven't been in my room for months."

"I went in yesterday," I countered. "Let me go look."

He scowled. His gaze raked over the thin silk of my dress, lingering on the hard peaks of my nipples pressing against the fabric. "Liora, what nerve is crossed today? You're acting insane."

"Let me go," I insisted, pointing toward the stairs.

"Which earring?" he demanded.

"The silver hoop. From last night."

"You didn't wear silver hoops last night."

"My memory is foggy," I said, tilting my head. "Maybe it was a diamond stud. Let me go check."

I didn't wait for his permission. I pushed past him and marched up the stairs. Heavy footsteps followed close behind me. I could feel the heat radiating off his massive frame with every step.

I pushed open his bedroom door. The space was dim, smelling intensely of that cedar and woodsmoke.

"Find it and get out," Rhette ordered, standing squarely in the doorway.

I didn't look for an earring. I walked to the center of the dark rug and turned around to face him.

In my past life in the human world, I was an absolute succubus. I knew exactly how to unravel a man's control. I knew how to make them beg. And right now, the werewolf mate bond was doing half the work for me. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the amber of his irises. He wanted this.

I stepped directly into his space.

"Where did you drop it?" Rhette asked, his jaw tight.

"Right here," I said.

I placed my palm flat against the center of his chest. His heart hammered rapidly against my skin, betraying his calm exterior.

"Stop," he warned. His voice sounded rough, like sandpaper.

"Make me," I challenged.

I slid my hand up his chest, tangling my fingers in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. I leaned in and dragged my teeth lightly over his sharp jawline. A violent shudder ripped through his massive frame.

"You smell amazing," I whispered against his ear.

Rhette snapped.

He grabbed both my wrists in one massive hand. He spun us around and slammed me back against the wall. The impact rattled my teeth. He pressed his entire body flush against mine, trapping me completely.

"Liora, don't act crazy," he growled. His broad chest heaved heavily against my breasts.

"You want this," I whispered, tilting my chin up to meet his furious gaze. "Don't you want to kiss me? Brother."

His eyes dropped to my mouth. A muscle ticked furiously in his cheek. He leaned in, his lips hovering barely a millimeter from mine. The heat between us was suffocating. I arched my back, pressing my hips directly into his hard erection.

"Fuck," he swore loudly.

He forced himself to pull away. He released my wrists and took a massive step back. He rubbed his face aggressively with both hands, pacing away from me.

"Get out," he ordered, pointing a shaking finger at the open door.

"Rhette—"

"Out!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "I'll call a doctor to check on you. You're completely unhinged."

I stumbled out into the hallway. The heavy oak door slammed shut right in my face.

I leaned against the cool wood, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. I hadn't slept with him. I didn't trigger a vision.

But as I stared down at my hands, a sharp, burning pain erupted on my left wrist.

A faint, glowing silver line began to slice itself across my skin, forming the exact shape of a blade.