Chapter 15

Stella

In my sleep, a dream took hold, so real it could be mistaken for another life. It was Oz and me, wrapped in a future that promised joy and companionship. Our home, bathed in warmth and light, rang with the laughter of our children. Twin cubs, a gift common to panther shifters, darted around us with youthful yips. Oz"s presence beside me was solid, reassuring. Our laughter intertwined, building a sanctuary of happiness. The vision of us, surrounded by our cubs, was the life I"d longed for.

Even as I dreamed, I realized this picture never had Ken in it. Not a single man I"d dated before ever fit in this vision. Oz wasn"t a cardboard cutout. He was the man who molded perfectly to me. This was going to be our life.

I sighed happily, lucid in the dream. All of my dreams were lucid. Sometimes I could change things in the dream, if they were solely my dreams. But when it was a vision, a prediction of the future, I was only a silent witness. So when the dream warped and the light in my mind dimmed, I knew something beyond my control was happening, and I would only be allowed to watch, like so many of my nightmares.

In the midst of the dream, the atmosphere shifted. From the shadows of our imagined sanctuary, four beasts emerged, their forms large and menacing. Their growls were a guttural chorus of hunger and aggression. The sound filled the air, sending a wave of terror through me. Their teeth gleamed, sharp and ready, promising pain and destruction.

Oz"s arms encircled me, his embrace a fortress of safety and assurance. He leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both a promise and an assurance. He was going to protect me. Just me, because our cubs weren"t born yet. This vision was about to happen. Right now.

I should make myself wake up. But I could see that there was more about to play out. I decided to spend a few more seconds watching the outcome so that I could give all of this information to Oz when I opened my eyes.

Back in the vision, Oz released me and stepped forward. The transformation was swift; his human form melded into the shadows, and in its place stood a panther. His animal took my breath. His coat was a deep, absorbing black that swallowed the light. With a roar that echoed the fury of the storm outside, he launched himself at the intruders.

The cabin became a battleground. Oz was a whirlwind of dark fury. One by one, he confronted the beasts. Each encounter ended with a beast subdued, their threats silenced by my man"s overwhelming strength.

I jolted awake, my heart thundering against my ribs as if trying to escape what was about to happen. But my head was in the game. My mind was clear. I knew what was coming, and I was ready for it. I only just stopped myself from reaching for my lip gloss for a fresh coat before I had my first kiss with my fated mate.

With a hesitant touch, I reached out, stirring Oz from his rest. He was sitting up as he slept. The only thing that let me know he was resting was his closed eyes and even breathing.

The moment my fingers brushed his, his eyes flickered open, immediately alert. His hand went around my neck. I felt the puncture of claws. This should not be a turn-on. But it was. My blood wasn"t the only thing dripping.

His gaze lingered on my lips. I leaned into his touch, ready to be claimed even though I heard the scratching at the door. Oz looked from the mark on my neck into my eyes and then at the door.

Understanding flashed in his eyes, and like a switch had been flipped, he was all action. He positioned himself protectively between me and the ominous sounds outside. The air hung heavy with a sense of impending doom. The scratching grew louder, a sinister promise of the nightmare lurking just beyond our makeshift sanctuary.

Behind him, I blew out a puff of air between my neglected lips. A surge of longing washed over me, a desperate wish for him to have taken just a second to close that distance between his lips and mine with the same fervor from my vision. Sometimes I didn"t get it all right. But damn if I wished I"d gotten that one detail right.

The door burst open with a violent crash. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the small space. Three feral coyotes stood on the threshold, their eyes wild and hungry, gleaming in the faint light. So I'd gotten the math wrong too.

They were not shifters but wild animals. Their gazes fixed on Oz and me with a predatory hunger that chilled me to the bone.

In a fluid motion that was completely awe-inspiring, in the sense that my lips parted and I said awe, Oz shifted. His clothes couldn"t contain the transformation. They tore away as his human form gave way to that of a dark, majestic panther. The sight was breathtaking.

Just as I finished saying awe, I had to inhale deep and slowly. Oz was a creature of raw power and grace. His fur was darker than midnight.

The ensuing fight was brutal, merciless. Beautiful. In his panther form, Oz became poetry in motion. His every movement was lethal grace. His body was a weapon sharpened by instinct. His paws struck with precision, his bites fatal. The coyotes, wild and uncontrolled, stood no chance against the might of a lethal panther shifter.

The sounds of the conflict were primal—growls, snarls, the sickening crunch of bone. The air filled with the metallic scent of blood, turning my stomach as Oz dismantled the coyotes.

One coyote, gaunt and driven by desperation, dodged Oz"s defense. It lunged toward me, its gaze wild with the desperate urge to survive. Defenseless, with only a lipstick and the heels of my shoes as weapons, I acted on impulse. I hurled the tube of gloss at the coyote. It might as well have laughed at my feeble attempt. Panic surged, threatening to root me to the spot.

But then Oz acted. With startling speed, he spun. His movement morphed from pure animal instinct to something disturbingly human. His paw, now eerily hand-like, shot out, snagging the coyote by the neck in a grip so precise, it seemed the man within had momentarily taken control.

The coyote"s choked yelp was abruptly silenced as Oz ended it with deft finality. The sound, a harsh, guttural snap, reverberated through the hideout, a grim reminder of the thin line between life and death in the wild. Oz"s eyes met mine. Within them, I saw a tumult of emotions—rage, regret, and an unspoken apology for the violence I'd had to witness.

As quickly as it emerged, the human-like quality in Oz"s actions disappeared, and he was once again purely a panther, completing the grim task of neutralizing the remaining threats. Witnessing Oz, so controlled, sent shivers down my spine. It served as a reminder of his dual nature, the man and the beast, existing together in a sometimes unbalanced equilibrium.

The coyotes were defeated. All three lay still on the ground. The danger had passed. Wearied from the fight, the panther made its way to me. His steps were slower now, the aftermath of the battle showing in the slight slump of his form. He settled at my feet, resting his massive head on his paws. With each breath, his sides expanded and contracted, signaling the exertion from the confrontation.

I knelt beside him, my hand shaking as I reached out to touch his coat. It was soft yet bristled with the remnants of the fight. Our eyes locked, and in his golden gaze, I found an array of emotions that no words could ever fully capture. Relief, weariness, and an undiminished sense of protectiveness.

Even though I"d missed a few details in my vision, I knew my dream would come true. I was going to spend the rest of my life with this man. I would have his cubs. We would live in a big, sprawling house. And we would be happy.