I met him when I was only eight years old. I remember the way his hair clung to his forehead and the sound his soaked sneakers made as he walked me home that day. Most of all, I remember the way his eyes softened after he rescued me. 

After pulling me out of the water, he immediately bit his wrist. He bit it so hard, blood started to pool out of his mouth and onto the sand. Then, as if nothing had happened, he pulled his backpack over his shoulder, gave me his other hand, and brought me back to my parents. 

I was too young to understand it back then, but that was the first time I met my Destined Mate.

*~*~*~

Last night, I woke up gasping for air. I couldn't remember the last time I had that dream, but it always starts out the same way. A stray cat with fur, the color of Autumn leaves, and green eyes filled with cunningness that only cats who've lost their homes will ever know. 

My parents had gone out earlier that afternoon with a few of their old high school friends and left me at home, trusting that I would stay put. There had been a weather warning that day, and they told me I wasn't allowed to go down to the beach, but I wanted to make friends with the green-eyed cat. Through the large glass windows, I could see it walking along the sandy path leading down to the beach, its tail pointing up toward the forbidding clouds above.

It took me a couple of minutes to build up the courage to open my front door, but when I finally did, a strong gust of ocean air blew in my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut, as my tiny body swayed from its strength. Rather than deter me, I gulped in that salty, sea air and walked barefoot outside.

Within minutes, I found the cat strolling by the shoreline, and wasted no time running down the steps of a sand dune that separated all the houses from the beach. 

Even in my dreams, the cat was not nearly as nice as I had hoped. As I reached down to pet its tail, sharp claws sliced my palm open, and little rivulets of blood fell and stained the sand. I always remembered the pain, but I wasn't sure if I cried or not. Either way, having two brainy doctor parents gave me the wherewithal to know that I had to rinse my bleeding hand before it got infected. So, naturally, I walked to the edge of the ocean, feeling the foamy water brush against my toes and tickle my ankles. 

It was at this point that my dreams shifted into a living nightmare. Everything seemed to slow down. Lifting my hand out of the water, I slipped on a wet rock as I turned to leave. Then, a wave crashed into me. It wasn't big enough to pull me under, but it was strong enough to pull me into the current. My bleeding hand was no longer a big deal.

I cried for help as I scrambled against the current, but due to the impending storm, everyone was safely tucked inside, and there was no one to hear me begging for my life. My tiny little heart thumped hard in my chest, and my body struggled to stay afloat, like an old train laboring to carry a heavy load up a hill; the wheels were turning, but hardly any progress was being made. The water would recede just enough for my toes to touch the ocean floor, making me believe that I had a fighting chance to escape before another wave swallowed me up again. 

It didn't take long for my arms and legs to get tired and refuse to keep moving. I remembered, while thrashing, my eyes locked onto the stray cat. At first, it didn't seem so far away. It had stopped walking when I started screaming. Its green eyes watched mine, as if I were a large fish, and I cried, believing they would be the last thing I would ever see. Another wave washed over me, but I didn't have the strength to pull myself up. Pressure built in my chest until I couldn't hold my breath any longer, and I opened my mouth, sucking in a salty gulp of water. 

This is where my dream usually ends. I wake up screaming, grabbing my neck, and more often than not, falling onto my floor with the sheets wrapped around my legs.

However, last night was different. 

Last night, the dream didn't end. 

One second, I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and the next, I was shooting back to the surface. An arm wrapped so tightly around my waist, it should have hurt. It should have made me lose my breath all over again.  But as I was carried back to the shore, the only thing I wanted more than air was those arms to never let me go. 

My eyes snapped open to the emptiness that filled my bedroom. Moonlight seeped through the curtains, and I couldn't help tracing the scar on my palm. 

Dreaming of him could only mean one thing.

He was coming back.

****

Hope you enjoyed this prologue. If you like what I've done so far, let me know by leaving a like or a comment!