CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Talia

The bookstore should have been a sanctuary.

It was where she went when the world felt too loud—where stories soothed the static in her chest. But tonight, even the scent of old paper and coffee couldn’t calm the storm inside her.

She hadn’t been able to focus all day. Her skin prickled like something was watching her. Every shadow seemed deeper. Every glance over her shoulder sharper.

And then there were the dreams.

They'd started after she met him. That man. Ronan.

She hadn’t seen him since the strange message at the café—the one that had chilled her to the bone.

“I’m not here to hurt you. But you need to stay out of the woods.”

She didn’t even remember telling him her name.

And yet something in his voice—deep and graveled, laced with unspoken things—had left her shaken for days.

She stared at the book in her hands and realized she hadn’t read a single sentence. Her best friend, Lani, sat across from her at their usual table, already halfway through the new fantasy release they were supposed to be reading for book club.

“You okay?” Lani asked, glancing up from the page. “You’ve flipped that same page three times.”

Talia forced a smile. “Just distracted. Work’s been crazy.”

Lani raised an eyebrow. “You’re always calm during chaos. What’s different?”

Talia hesitated, fingers tightening around the book. She couldn’t exactly say, Oh, I ran into a man who looks like a fallen god and he somehow knows things about me he shouldn’t, and I’ve been dreaming about him pulling me into the woods ever since.

She settled for, “I think someone’s following me.”

Lani’s face sobered. “What? Are you serious?”

“I don’t know.” Talia exhaled slowly. “It’s probably nothing. Just a gut feeling.”

“You’re not the paranoid type,” Lani said, her tone firm. “And if your gut says something’s off, I believe you.”

Talia nodded, grateful. But she couldn’t tell Lani the rest—not about the dreams, not about the whisper in her head that didn’t sound like her own thoughts.

Not about him.

She left early that evening, promising to text when she got home. The wind had picked up, rattling dry leaves across the pavement as she walked to her car. Puya Ridge was a quiet town, but tonight it felt...different.

Like something hidden was breathing with her.

She drove home with one eye on the rearview mirror.

When she stepped into her apartment, everything was as she left it. Clean. Silent. Safe.

Still, she double-checked the locks.

After changing into her comfiest sweater and socks, she curled up on the couch, book forgotten, and tried to shake the crawling unease.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She froze.

You shouldn’t go to the woods. Even during the day.

Talia’s heart jumped into her throat.

Another message. From him. She didn’t know how she knew—but she did.

Who are you? she texted back, hands trembling.

The reply came instantly.

Someone who knows what’s coming.

She stared at the screen, pulse roaring in her ears. A knock on the door made her nearly drop the phone.

She edged to the peephole—half-expecting to see a shadow, a threat. But it was just a package. No one in sight.

Still, she waited a full minute before opening the door.

The package was from a small online bookshop she’d ordered from two weeks ago. She took it inside, heart still pounding.

You’re spiraling, she told herself. No one’s out to get you. He’s probably just some lunatic with a phone number generator.

But deep down, she knew better.

The air around her had changed since she met Ronan.

She lit a candle to chase the cold from her bones and turned on soft music. But her mind wouldn’t settle.

Not until she fell asleep.

And then the dreams came.

---

She was standing in a forest. Moonlight filtered through bare branches, turning the ground silver. She wore nothing but a thin slip of fabric, and she wasn’t cold.

She wasn’t alone, either.

Something moved between the trees. A shadow.

A man.

He stepped into the light, and it was him.

Ronan.

But not as she remembered him. His eyes glowed like amber flame, and his body was bare beneath the moon. Powerful. Primal. Dangerous.

And he was looking at her like she was prey.

“You came,” he said, voice low and rich.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you wanted to.”

He stalked closer, and she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“You feel it,” he whispered. “Don’t lie.”

Talia woke with a start, soaked in sweat, heart slamming in her chest.

The dream lingered. Not just in her mind—but in her skin. Like his touch had imprinted itself on her.

This wasn’t just attraction.

It was something else.

She needed answers.

And she knew exactly where to start.

---

The next morning, Talia skipped work.

Her boss would understand. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, she didn’t care.

She needed to know what the hell was going on.

She started at the library.

It was old, tucked between a cafe and the mayor’s office, mostly ignored by tourists and locals alike. But Talia knew its secrets.

In the back, past rows of mundane fiction, was a locked cabinet. Old tomes. Myths. Folklore.

She’d helped the librarian organize it once during college.

“Can I see the old section?” she asked the woman at the front desk.

The librarian blinked at her, then slowly nodded. “It’s still where you left it.”

Talia slipped inside and started scanning titles.

She didn’t know what she was looking for. Just that her gut said this—all of it—was bigger than one man.

And as her fingers brushed across a book with no title and strange markings on the spine, her pulse quickened.

She pulled it out. Opened it.

And her world tilted.

The Marked Mate was scrawled across the first page.

Beneath it, a drawing of two figures—one with glowing eyes, the other bathed in moonlight.

The caption read: A bond not born of choice, but of consequence. When a soul touched by magic binds to one cursed by it, the world begins to shift.

Her stomach dropped.

A soul touched by magic.

She slammed the book shut and pressed her hands against the table.

Her fingers were shaking.

She needed to talk to him.

She needed to know the truth.

Because if what she was starting to believe was real...

Then her life had just become something out of the books she loved to read.

And this time, she wasn’t the reader.

She was the story.