South Delhi, Mehta Villa. Midnight.

Moonlight poured through the sheer curtains, painting silver patterns across the room. On the massive bed, Rihaan Mehta twisted under his sheets, whimpering softly. His lips parted, his brows knotted trapped once again in the nightmare that refused to leave him for five years.

Fog.

Forest.

Cold mist clinging to his skin.

He stood frozen, breath loud in the silence, when the ground trembled. A colossal shadow rose before him a werewolf, towering thirteen feet tall, blood-red eyes glowing in the haze.

Rihaan's hand flew to his mouth, muffling his scream. His body shook.

And then the monstrous form began to shift. The wolf melted into man. A man well over seven feet, shoulders broad, muscles sculpted, hair black as midnight. Amber-golden eyes locked onto him, sharp and unyielding, yet burning with something he could not name.

Each step brought the man closer. Each step made Rihaan's heart pound louder.

The mark at his neck the one that had never faded began to glow faintly, heat spreading under his skin. Rihaan stumbled back, words spilling from his mouth before his brain could catch them.

"Tum... gym karte ho kya?"

His own voice echoed in the fog, ridiculous and terrified.

The stranger smirked, lips curving with dangerous amusement. "Tum abhi bhi apne bina dimaag ke mooh ko bandh nahi rakh sakte kya."

Rihaan swallowed hard, his voice trembling, stuttering. "Ho... ho kaun tum? Kyun mere sapne mein aate ho tum? Rishta kya hai mera tumhare saath?"

The man leaned down, his aura pressing heavy, the scent of sandalwood enveloping Rihaan until his knees nearly buckled. His lips brushed close to Rihaan's ear, voice deep, husky, and final:

"Tum... sirf mere ho. Niyati ne tumhe mere liye chuna hai."

And then his fangs sank into Rihaan's glowing mark. Fire and pain shot through him.

"Ahhh.....!" Rihaan jolted awake.

He gasped, chest heaving, sweat beading across his forehead. His trembling hand reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. He gulped it down quickly, then set it aside, trying to steady his breath.

Beside him, Shubh, his five-year-old son, slept soundly, tiny fingers curled against the pillow. Rihaan's heart softened. He reached out, patting his son's hair gently, calming him as much as himself.

But peace did not come. It never did.

Leaning back against the headboard, Rihaan pressed his palm over the mark on his neck. His lips quivered, his eyes wide in the dim light.

The same dream. The same figure. The same amber eyes.

Five years. Night after night.

And always the same question clawing his heart:

Who was that man?

Why had he marked him?

Who was Shubh's other father?

And how had he fucking damn a man been made to carry life?

Rihaan shut his eyes, whispering into the silence, his nonsense words breaking with fear. "Yeh sab shayad ek bura joke hai... haan... lekin phir mera beta... mera Shubh... kaise?"

The fog of that night in Himachal never left him.

And deep inside, Rihaan knew someday, the man with amber eyes golden would step out of his dreams and into his life.

To be continued