My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 338

Chapter 338: Chapter 338 DEFINE WEIRD

SERAPHINA’S POV

The dream didn’t begin with me.

That was the first thing that was off about it—not the content, not the intensity, but the angle.

I wasn’t inside myself the way I usually was when my mind wandered in sleep.

I was drifting. Watching. Slipping in and out of others’ skin like frequencies crossing on a crowded wavelength.

The first was Lucian.

Not the sharp, composed Alpha the world knew, nor the shrewd, half-smiling man who so often stood at my side with quiet calculations behind his eyes.

This Lucian stood alone at the edge of something vast and empty, shoulders bowed, gaze fixed on the ground as if he were afraid that looking up might break him.

There was no dialogue. No explanation.

Just the weight of regret and something...foul clinging to him like fog.

Then the scene shattered, and I was falling—

Into heat. Smoke. Blood.

Aaron.

I felt the battlefield before I saw it: the copper tang in the air, the ache in muscles pushed past exhaustion, the distant roar of wolves clashing in the dark.

His thoughts splintered, flashing through me in sharp bursts.

Imani.

Her name wasn’t spoken aloud, but her presence echoed everywhere. In the tightening of his chest, in the memory of her laugh, in the half-formed image of her hands smoothing his hair the night before he left.

‘I have to go back,’ he thought, even as fangs sank into his shoulder. ‘I have to see her again. I have to—’

Pain exploded.

The bond screamed.

And then—nothing.

I was wrenched sideways again.

Not into a moment this time, but a long, grinding stretch of time that pressed down on my chest until it was hard to breathe.

Imani.

Her perspective wasn’t as vivid as Aaron’s had been. It was duller. Heavier. Built of monotony and endurance.

I felt the ache of waking every morning to the same empty space beside her. The weight of holding a crying child through the night, while grief sat like a stone in her throat.

Five years, her mind whispered, not in words but in weariness.

Five years of longing. Five years of pain. Five years of choosing survival, not for her sake, but for her son, the only remnant of their bond, the only proof that it ever existed. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The image shifted again, folding in on itself—

And suddenly, I was warm.

Firelight flickered across wooden walls. A familiar cabin. Familiar arms.

Kieran.

But this wasn’t memory exactly—it was distortion. A refracted version of something that had almost happened.

I felt his possessiveness first, sharp and instinctive, the Alpha in him coiling tight as he looked at me like I was something precious he’d unearthed after decades of excavation.

His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing my jaw, reverent and restrained all at once.

‘Mine,’ his thoughts murmured—not as a command, but as a hope he was afraid to voice.

This time, there was no ringing phone.

No interruption. No startling return to reality.

I saw myself lean forward, saw myself nod.

And then—another shift, and I felt myself give in.

The heat of him pressed against me, sudden and unyielding, as if whatever restraint he’d been holding onto had finally shattered.

His mouth crashed into mine—rough, hungry, claiming, the kind of kiss that stole breath and left no room for hesitation.

I barely had time to react before I was being backed into the wall, his body caging mine in with a low, possessive growl that vibrated straight through me.

His hands were everywhere—at my waist, my back, my thighs—stripping away layers of clothing with impatient precision. Fabric slid and fell, forgotten the moment it left my skin.

His touch was no longer careful; urgency replaced restraint. He’d reached the end of his control and had no intention of reclaiming it.

My name left his mouth like a vow and a warning all at once.

His kisses burned a path down my throat, over my collarbone, lingering just long enough to make me ache before moving on. Teeth grazed skin. Fingers dug in, holding me as if he was afraid I’d disappear if he loosened his grip even for a second.

I clutched at him just as desperately, nails scraping bare skin, anchoring myself to the solid reality of him—his weight, his heat, the fierce hunger behind every touch.

It wasn’t the bond pulling us together. It wasn’t instinct demanding its due.

It was choice colliding with desire, unchecked and uncontained.

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