My feet pounded on the forest floor as I tried not to trip on the roots shooting out of the ground. The trees blurred together, their branches tangling overhead like skeletal fingers. My heart pounded heavily as I ran, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I didn't dare look back. Whatever was chasing me, I knew I couldn't outrun it forever. But I had to try. My legs burned, my muscles screaming in protest as I pushed myself to run faster.

Suddenly, the forest vanished, and I stumbled, my feet sinking into soft, green grass. I looked around, disoriented, and saw a woman standing before me.

Her hair was as white as snow, cascading down her back like a river of moonlight. Her eyes were deep, sad pools that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. She wore a flowing white gown, its hem fluttering in the breeze.

By her side stood a magnificent white wolf. Its eyes locked onto mine, and it whimpered softly. As I stared at it, I felt a jolt of recognition, as if I'd seen this wolf before, though I knew I hadn't.

"Remember," the woman whispered, her voice barely audible. "Remember who you are."

I tried to respond, but my voice caught in my throat. The woman's eyes filled with tears, and she reached out a hand as if to touch me.

And then, everything went black.

I woke up with a start, my heart still racing from the dream. I rubbed my eyes, groaning in frustration. Not again. This was the fifth time this week I'd had that dream. And it was always the same: the running, the fear, the white woman, and the wolf.

I tossed off the thin blanket and swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cold floorboards creaking beneath my feet as I stood up. I might as well get up and get on with my chores. I wasn't going to get any more sleep, not with that dream haunting me. I thought to myself as I stretched, arching my back and extending my arms above my head before walking to the small bathroom next to my room to shower.

You're nineteen today. My heart skipped a beat the moment the thought hit me as I washed my face and tied back my white blond hair.

"Happy birthday to me," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers brushed against the small, weird scar behind my ear. It was shaped like a crescent moon, and I've had it for as long as I can remember. My eyes dropped to the sink in front of me and I felt a familiar pang of sadness. I had always been an outcast with my half-wolf status and inability to shift, and although the circumstances of my birth were not my fault, I was still punished for it.

As I glanced up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. For a moment, my eyes locked onto my reflection, and I could have sworn I saw something there, something that didn't belong. A flicker of recognition, maybe. A sense of déjà vu.

But it was just my imagination. I turned away from the mirror, shaking my head. I needed to focus on the tasks at hand, not get caught up in fanciful notions.

Shrugging off my thoughts, I walked out of my cabin, shutting the door behind me as I made my way to the pack house. My cabin was a small wooden structure at the end of the pack, and it usually took a twenty-minute walk to get up to the pack house. Someone else would have hated being isolated from the pack, but I loved the fact that nobody bothered me there, and it became my safe space.

The cold wind pushed against my face, causing my teeth to chatter as I walked as fast as my feet could carry me. Other normal, full blooded werewolves wouldn't even feel cold in this weather, their wolves creating warmth and comfort for them, but as a half blood, I was barely above being an ordinary human, and I didn't have any of the skills a werewolf should have, despite the fact that the moon affected me as much as it did them.

The moment I stepped into the pack house, a strange scent caught my attention. It was a thick, musky scent with an underlying tang that made my heart skip a beat. It seemed to be calling to me, and without thinking, I followed it down the hallway as it led me to the doors of the pack going library. A voice deep inside me was yelling at me, telling me to ignore the scent and turn around before it was too late, but I didn't listen, I couldn't listen. It felt like something stronger, a primal part of me was pushing me forward against my will, and I couldn't do anything but follow along.

As I pushed the door open, I saw Paul, the son of the pack Alpha sitting there, the book in his hand forgotten as he stared at me.

For a moment, we simply looked at each other, my heart pounding in my chest, my senses on high alert. I felt a strange connection to Paul, as if an invisible thread bound us together, and I could barely understand what was happening.

As the moment stretched out, Paul's expression transformed from shock to irritation. He looked at me like I was a pesky insect that had interrupted his day.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as his eyes flickered back to the book he had in his hands.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. I felt like I was drowning in the intensity of his gaze.

Paul's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be here. This is the pack's private library. You're just a...slave."

His words cut deep, but I tried to push past the pain. I took a step forward, feeling the strange connection between us grow stronger.

Paul's expression turned from irritation to annoyance. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Can't you see I'm busy? Or have you suddenly lost the ability to speak?”

I felt a surge of confusion. Why was he reacting like this? Didn't he feel it too, the strange bond between us? I opened my mouth to speak, but his next words cut through my confusion like a knife.

Paul kept staring at me, his expression turning from mild annoyance to understanding and then shock.

“What do you think you're doing?” He asked, getting up on his feet and staring at me.

“I…I don't understand what's going on.” I mumbled, unable to keep my eyes off him. I had no idea why I was acting this way, but it seemed Paul understood, and I wanted to know what was happening to me.

“You're a slave, you think you can be my mate?” He asked, his gaze locked on mine.

Mate!!! The words rang in my head.

“W-what are you talking about? I can't…I'm not your mate.” But as I said the words, I suddenly understood what I was feeling. The mate bond was what drew me to the library, to Paul. I had no idea I could have a mate, most werewolves never found their fates mates, and as a half-blood blood I had no chance of ever finding mine.

This should have been a celebration, but looking at Paul's expression of annoyance as he stared at me, I knew it wouldn't end well.