What if your nightmares were memories of past lives? Every night, Ethan Laurent dreams of the same girl dying in his arms. Every night, he fails to save her. And every morning, he wakes up with the taste of her blood on his lips and a name he can't remember. As the powerful heir to one of the strongest werewolf bloodlines, Ethan has everything - looks, status, and a reputation that makes every girl at LuxeMount Academy want him. But he's hiding something dark behind that perfect face. Then Lydia Bailey shows up, and suddenly his carefully controlled world starts cracking. There's just one tiny problem: every time they get close, history tries to repeat itself. And this time? They're running out of chances to get it right. Can they break the cycle before it destroys them both? Or were they doomed from the start?
View More“Perfect. We should just start preparing for death.”Lydia’s voice was dry, almost sarcastic, but not enough to hide the tremor under it.Ethan turned, a corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying to fight off a smile.“What is so funny?” she asked, folding her arms. “Not scared of dying?”He shrugged. “Death is for everyone. We all die eventually. Why waste energy fearing something that is guaranteed?”Lydia scoffed. “Wow. Morbid and emotionally unavailable. What a combo.”But Ethan’s eyes did not carry their usual detachment. They were darker tonight. Not just brooding, haunted.She let out a breath and leaned back against the counter, fingers tightening around her mug like it was the only solid thing left. “It was not dying that scared me,” she said quietly. “I think…I could have handled that. The pain, the ending. I have made peace with the idea that it might not be a long life for someone like me.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “I was scared for my mom. For what i
What if he had stayed on that call with Riley a little longer? What if he had taken his time walking back, let the rain slow him down, told himself it could wait?Five seconds. That is all it would have taken A breath. One fucking breath slower, and she would be…Ethan rubbed his palms down his face, hard. His jaw was locked so tight it hurt. He could still see it, see Lydia standing there, frozen, that thing so close. Too close. Her eyes, God. That look. Like she knew what was coming and had already accepted it.She had not screamed. Had not moved. Just stood there waiting like prey that did not get the chance to run.And he had told her to go ahead. Walk alone. Because he needed to breathe. Because she made him feel too much. Because he thought pushing her away would shut it all off.Instead, it almost got her killedWhat the fuck was he doing?This was not about duty anymore. It was not about legacy, alliances, or the cold-blooded rules drilled into him until they felt like truth
Ethan did not know what the hell was wrong with him. Lydia was not his type. She never had been. Too stubborn. Too soft. Too…much, and yet, here he was, haunted by the scent of her skin, the tremble in her voice, the way she looked at him. A look he did not deserve.Every cell in his body screamed to turn around, to look at her, to finish what they had started against that tree. But he would not. He could not.He had spent the last two days telling himself he was fine with the silence between them. That the distance was necessary. But every hour without seeing her felt like something crawling under his skin. He found himself pacing. Listening for her voice like it might steady something in him. It did not. Nothing did.Because the truth he would not say out loud, not even to himself, was simple: Lydia was not just getting under his skin. She was already there. Deep and that terrified him.The memory of her pressed against him, soft and yielding yet somehow strong enough to push him aw
They walked in silence. The kind that stretches too long and coils itself around your spine like a warning. Every step Lydia took felt heavy like the earth was watching. The woods had gone still again, the way it did before a storm or after something bad.She did not look at Ethan. Would not. Could not. Not with the way her skin prickled just being near him. Not with how her body still remembered his. How he had thrown himself over her like a human shield, heat and muscle and growl. That stupid heroic instinct of his, like saving her was something he did not even need to think about.It made her chest feel tight.She focused on her boots instead. Watched the mud cling to the soles. Let herself listen to the crunch of twigs and not the way his breathing sounded when he was close. Not the way the scent of pine and heat and Ethan kept messing with her brain.And still, he said nothing.“You are quiet,” he muttered finally. “What is the matter? Cat got your tongue?”She scoffed, folding h
Avoiding Ethan was harder than Lydia thought. For someone who acted like he wanted to be left alone, he sure had a knack for showing up everywhere. She found herself ducking behind trees, taking the long way around town and slipping out early to run errands just to avoid him. It was exhausting, really. Who knew avoiding one person could become a full-time job?Two days had passed since the fight with the creature and Grimholt had fallen into an uneasy silence. No strange noises. No shadows creeping through the woods. Just silence. Lydia would have given anything to keep it that way.She kept telling herself it was better to steer clear of Ethan. Better to give him space, better to give herself space. After everything he said, it was safer to keep her distance. Hating him wasn’t an option not anymore. She couldn’t hate him even if she tried. But she also couldn’t bear to be near him not when his presence made her feel like she was being slowly torn apart from the inside.Ethan seemed f
Almost dying makes you see things differently. Colors look brighter. Sounds are clearer. Even the air tastes better when you know you almost stopped breathing forever.But fear sticks to you. It follows you like a shadow.Walking back to their cabin was so long for Lydia. She helped hurt Ethan through the scary woods, always thinking that the monster might jump out. Every sound made her heart jump. The weird trees seemed to laugh at them.Ethan's blood was wet on her shirt. It showed her that even strong people can bleed. Can get hurt. Can die.She kept thinking: What if things went wrong? What would she tell the Alpha? "Sorry, I got your heir killed?"She almost laughed. Who was she kidding? If Ethan had not fought that monster, she would be dead. Just a sad story people would tell. "Remember Lydia? Poor girl died."She looked at Ethan. His jaw was tight, eyes looking ahead. He had not spoken since they left. That's Ethan for you. Bleeding but too proud to show it hurts.But Lydia kn
Lydia jumped at every noise as they walked to Fay's cabin. She kept thinking about Alain's cut-off head."You feel it too?" Ethan asked.Lydia nodded. "These woods feel wrong." The air felt sticky. "Like eyes are watching.""They are," Ethan said."What do you mean?""Look at the tree." He pointed.At first, Lydia saw nothing odd. Then she saw it, a face in the bark with empty eyes and an open mouth. She stepped closer, thinking it was just shadows.Then it blinked. Lydia fell back against Ethan. He held her shoulders."Don't look too long," he said softly. "The more you look, the more they see you.""What are they?" Lydia whispered."I don't know yet," Ethan said.As they walked, Lydia saw faces in all the trees. Some looked asleep, others watched them. None looked human."I've never seen this," she said. "This isn't normal, right?""Right," Ethan agreed. "Something opened a door that should've stayed closed."The path got smaller. Ethan went first with Lydia behind. She looked at hi
Lydia lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling like her entire body had been drained of energy. What the hell had she been thinkingHer stomach twisted with embarrassment and shame wrapped tightly around her chest. Ethan’s words echoed in her mind, each one a fresh-cut“I would not touch you even if you begged."She squeezed her eyes shut. She had humiliated herself. She had let him see too much, let her emotions slip when she should have known better. And for what? A man who saw her as a burden? A joke?She turned onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow. God, let me disappearBy the time the first light slipped through the window, Lydia had not slept at all. Her eyes burned, her head ached, and she was emotionally wrecked.Her phone vibrated. She forced herself to sit up, grabbing it with shaking fingers.Ethan: Meet me outside in 30 minutes.Her heart dropped. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow, like hiding would somehow erase the absolute disaster of last nigh
Lydia could not sleep. She lay on her side, staring at the beam of the ceiling, she felt like several eyes were watching her all at once.Her finger curled around the blanket. Grimholt was too strange, and she could feel it deep within her bones. She rolled onto her back and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. No missed calls. No messages. The unease sitting in her stomach was not going away so she did the only thing she could think of and that was calling Vanessa It rang and rang then went to voicemail. Lydia chewed her lips, debating whether to leave a message, but ended up hanging up instead. She needed any form of distraction and Mason came to mind. She hesitated for only a second before giving in and calling him He picked up on the first ring “Woah, that was so fast,” Lydia said, forcing a weak laugh “Gotta stay alert. Never know when someone needs rescuing,” Mason joked but there was something else in his voice. “You okay?”“Not really,” she sat up, pulling her knees c
Pain was nothing new to Lydia Bailey.She'd learned early that some people were born to be prey, and some were born to hunt. For years, she'd been convinced she was the former—a walking target, invisible except when someone wanted to remind her how little she mattered.The bruise on her cheek was still fresh from yesterday. Amber Miller's ring had caught her just right, leaving a perfect crescent of purple and blue that matched the loneliness etched into Lydia's bones. Her mother would notice—she always did—but she'd say nothing. Just another silent look. Just another moment of pretending.Silver-dale wasn't a school. It was a battlefield, and Lydia had never learned how to fight back.The morning was typical. Cold. Gray. The kind of morning that promised nothing but more of the same. Lydia adjusted her worn hoodie, pulling it closer, trying to disappear into the fabric. Her fingers traced the new bruise, a ritual of survival she'd perfected over years of being the girl nobody saw—unt...
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