Page 18 of New Year with the Cartel

His skin burned hot beneath my touch. "Wake up."

His eyes snapped open, instantly alert in that unnerving way alphas had. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, processing something I couldn't see. Then his gaze shifted to me, carrying an odd weight I couldn't quite interpret.

"Well," he drawled, his voice rough from sleep but already regaining its usual smugness, "if you wanted my attention sobadly, little omega, you could have found more creative ways to wake me."

I rolled my eyes. "You were having a dream. A rather intense one, from the looks of it."

"Observant, aren't you?" He propped himself up on one elbow, studying me with that predatory gaze that still made my skin prickle. "It was... unusual. I was in some grand manor, dressed in clothes that belonged in one of those period dramas you pretend not to watch."

"I don't-"

"The strangest part," he continued, ignoring my protest, just as I thought he would, "was how real it felt. The weight of the fabric, the smell of leather and old wood. There were servants, and they kept referring to someone called 'Master.' And then there was you."

My breath caught. "Me?" What was I doing in his dream?

"A version of you. Same golden hair, same defiant look in your eyes. But you were different somehow. You knew things about me—about some necklace I was supposedly wearing when I arrived there. Silver, with a locket bearing strange symbols."

Something stirred in my memory—my mother's voice, sharp and dismissive as always, lecturing me about the 'curse' of omega biology. "Fated mates," she'd said, "are nothing but a fairy tale. Though some say they share dreams of past lives, memories that transcend time itself. Ridiculous notion, of course. As if anyone would want to be bound to an omega through multiple lifetimes. I know I wouldn't want that."

As if triggered by the memory, images began flooding my mind: elaborate tapestries hanging from stone walls, the click of boots on marble floors, and the weight of formal clothing from another era. The vision was fragmented but vivid—I could smell the burning wood from massive fireplaces, and feel the tensionin the air as servants whispered about their mysterious new guest.

Why were those thoughts surfacing in my mind?

"I don't know what's going on, but whatever you dreamed, I'm starting to remember something similar," I whispered, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "The manor, the servants... you appeared out of nowhere, confused and agitated. You were wearing-" Why was I only remembering this now? I should have remembered it before, when I met Fendwyr for the first time.

"A silver necklace," Fendwyr finished, his expression darkening with interest. "How fascinating." He reached out, trailing a finger along my jaw. "It seems the universe has quite the sense of humor, binding us together not just in this life, but in others as well."

I drew back slightly, processing the implications. What he was talking about was a first. I never thought something like that was even possible.

"You're saying we're-"

"Fated mates?" His laugh was low and dangerous. "Oh, I've known that since the moment I found you in that alley, little omega. I was simply waiting for you to catch up."

"You knew?" Anger flared in my chest. "And you didn't think to mention it?"

"Would you have believed me?" His thumb brushed against my lower lip, the touch both possessive and calculating. "You could barely trust me to feed you, let alone accept that we're destined for each other across time and space." And one of the most striking things about this was how he was taking it. He wasn't as surprised as I was. It was more like a confirmation to him of what he already knew was true.

I wanted to argue, but he had a point. Instead, I focused on the lingering images from the shared vision. "What happened to us in that life? Why were you there, wearing that necklace?"

"And so, that life..." Fendwyr's fingers continued their lazy exploration of my face as he spoke, "was far more complicated than our current situation. I remember arriving at that manor with no memories, just the necklace and an overwhelming sense of purpose. It was different, and I couldn't quite make sense of it."

"The necklace had symbols," I added, the memory becoming clearer. "They kept changing, shifting like smoke. When I tried to touch it-" I flinched at the sudden sharp recollection. "You grabbed my wrist so hard it bruised."

Fendwyr's lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "Protective of my possessions even then, it seems. Somethings never change."

"I wasn't your possession," I snapped, though I wasn't sure which lifetime I was defending.

"No?" His hand slid to the back of my neck, firm and controlling. "Then why do I now remember you following me around that manor like a shadow, insisting on helping me recover my memories? Always so concerned about my wellbeing, little omega, across every lifetime."

More fragments surfaced—hushed conversations in candlelit corridors, the rustle of expensive fabric, the weight of secrets pressing down on both of us. "There was something we were both concerned about," I said slowly. "Someone was looking for you. The 'Master' everyone kept mentioning..."

"Yes." Fendwyr's expression hardened. "A collector of sorts. He wanted the necklace, and by extension, me. But you..." His grip tightened slightly. "Now, I'm beginning to remember more. You helped me escape. Quite the rebellious little thing youwere, organizing a distraction while I slipped away through the servants' quarters."

"I died." The words came out before I fully processed the memory. "He found out I helped you, and he-" My hand instinctively went to my throat, remembering the phantom sensation of steel against skin. I never wanted to remember it again.

"Which is precisely why," Fendwyr's voice dropped, "I won't let anyone touch you in this lifetime. History has a way of repeating itself, but not that part. Never that part."

"The necklace," I pressed, trying to ignore how his possessiveness made my omega instincts purr. "What happened to it?"

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