The lingering scent of Bryson, a phantom touch, and the vivid afterglow of a dream that felt too real, too intimate. Emily woke with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs, the ache of unfulfilled desire a physical presence in her empty bed. It wasn't the first time Bryson had invaded her sleep, turning friendship into forbidden fantasy. He was the future Alpha, she was just an omega—two worlds that could never truly collide.

A sigh escaped her lips as she silenced the alarm, the harsh reality of her status settling in. Yet, the longing persisted, a secret fire she nursed in the quiet moments, imagining his hands, his whispers, his touch. Lost in the haze of a self-induced fantasy, she almost didn't hear the soft click of her bedroom door. Then, a familiar, teasing voice shattered the illusion, pulling her back to a reality where her best friend, Bryson Taylor, stood grinning, his green eyes twinkling with amusement. He was in her room, and he knew. The embarrassment was instant, scorching her cheeks. "Did I interrupt your little session?" he chuckled, and Emily wished the floor would swallow her whole.