The scream died in my throat as I jolted awake, the remnants of the dream—teeth, fur, and a predatory gleam in yellow eyes—clawing at the edges of my consciousness. A cold sweat coated my skin, and my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Shhh, Elara. I’m here. You’re safe.” Kaden’s voice, deep and gravelly with sleep, was an anchor in my turbulent sea of fear. His arm, heavy and warm, tightened around my waist, pulling me back against the solid wall of his chest. The scent of him—sandalwood and something wild, something I could never quite name—wrapped around me, soothing the frayed edges of my nerves. “The dream again?” he murmured into my hair, his lips brushing my temple. I could only nod, pressing myself closer, seeking his warmth, his reality. “Just the usual. Monsters under the bed,” I whispered, forcing a lightness into my tone I didn't feel. I never told him the details. How could I describe the visceral terror of a wolf’s gaze to a man who… well, to a man like Kaden? He was solid, rational, a successful entrepreneur who dealt in concrete and steel, not phantoms of the mind. My childhood phobia, my luposophobia, felt like a shameful secret in his strong, certain presence. “There are no monsters here,” he said, his voice absolute. A low, comforting rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound that always inexplicably calmed me. It was one of his many little quirks—an almost primal intensity that simmered just beneath his polished exterior. Sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking, I’d catch a flash of something ancient and wild in his hazel eyes, a gold-flecked gleam that would vanish as quickly as it appeared. I relaxed into him, letting his presence chase the shadows away. This was our sanctuary. In this bed, in his arms, the world made sense. The morning sun streamed into our modern apartment, painting everything in a warm, golden light. Kaden moved through the kitchen with a predator's grace that was entirely at odds with the domestic task of making coffee. It was something I’d always admired about him—the way his powerful frame, which looked like it belonged on a battlefield or a wilderness, could be so gentle, so focused on something as simple as preparing my breakfast just the way I liked it. He placed a mug in front of me, his fingers brushing against mine. A jolt, familiar and warm, shot up my arm. I smiled up at him. “My hero.” A shadow, fleeting and tense, crossed his face. He looked away, towards the window where the nearly full moon was still faintly visible in the daytime sky. His knuckles were white where he gripped the countertop. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice tighter than usual. “Kaden? Are you okay?” I reached for him, but he subtly shifted, turning to grab the cream from the fridge, avoiding my touch. “Fine. Just… a lot on my mind with the new property acquisition. The zoning laws are a nightmare.” He forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. The gold flecks were back, brighter than ever. He seemed on edge, a tightly coiled spring. I’d noticed this pattern before, always around the full moon. He’d become more irritable, more withdrawn, claiming work stress. I’d suggested a vacation, but he’d always brush it off. My phone buzzed on the table, saving him from further inquiry. It was my best friend, Lia. “Girls' night! Drinks at 7? You need to get out of that love nest and debrief. How’s the gorgeous, mysterious Kaden?” I laughed, typing a quick reply. “He’s perfect. And yes, I need wine. See you then.” When I looked up, Kaden was watching me, his expression unreadable. “Lia?” he asked. “Yep. Dragging me out tonight. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve been so busy lately…” “No,” he said, a little too quickly. He came around the island and cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. The touch was electric, calming and exhilarating all at once. “You should go. Have fun. But…” He hesitated, his gaze intense. “Be careful. Stick to well-lit areas. Text me when you get there and when you leave.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Yes, sir. You’re worse than my father.” But a warm glow spread through me. His protectiveness was one of the things I loved most about him. It made me feel cherished. “I just need to know you’re safe,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, serious tone that made my stomach flutter. The primal intensity was back, filling the space between us. For a moment, it felt like more than just concern for a nighttime stroll in the city. It felt like a fundamental need, a deep-seated drive that was as much a part of him as his heartbeat. He leaned down and kissed me, and for a blissful moment, the world narrowed to the feel of his lips on mine, the scent of him, the sheer rightness of being with him. In these moments, I felt like the luckiest woman alive. My fears were silly childhood ghosts, and he was my solid, real, perfect man. If only I had known that the monster in my dreams and the man of my dreams were one and the same. The full moon was rising, and with it, the carefully constructed walls of our beautiful lie were about to come crashing down.