11. Lenna
LENNA
My hands shake as I secure the final containment lock on the new beast's enclosure.
The volcanic serpent—sleek and deadly, with scales that shimmer like molten copper—coils in the center of its designated space, watching me with vertical pupils that glow faintly in the dim light.
It's been a smooth transport, all things considered.
No major behavioral incidents, no complications with the binding wards during the journey back to the estate.
I should feel relieved. Focused on the work.
Instead, all I can think about is his mouth on mine.
The memory hits me in waves every time I try to push it away.
The heat of Malrec's hand against my jaw.
The way he'd looked at me in that suspended moment before he kissed me, like I was something he'd been searching for without knowing he was looking.
The taste of him—dark and overwhelming and somehow familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.
I ran. The second he pulled back, the second reality crashed down on both of us and I saw the confusion warring with desire in his ember-gold eyes, I ran. Made some half-coherent excuse about needing rest and basically fled back to my quarters like a coward.
We haven't spoken since. Not during the final auction negotiations the next morning, not during the long carriage ride back to the estate.
I kept my gaze fixed out the window while Malrec sat across from me in rigid silence and Damiros watched us both with that unsettling intensity that makes my skin crawl.
Hours of loaded quiet broken only by the occasional necessary exchange about transport logistics or containment protocols.
Professional. Distant. Safe.
Everything the kiss wasn't.
I move through the stable corridors on autopilot, checking each beast's status with mechanical precision.
Vexris is settled, her breathing deep and even as she rests in her crystalline enclosure.
Sythrak barely acknowledges my presence, too focused on the fresh feeding I left for him earlier.
The routine tasks should ground me. Should pull me back into the familiar rhythms of work and responsibility.
But my body won't let me forget.
Every time I close my eyes, I feel him. The solid warmth of his chest under my palm.
The way his arm had tightened around my waist like he was afraid I'd disappear if he didn't hold on.
The desperate, almost frantic way he'd kissed me—like he'd been starving for it, like touching me was the only thing that made sense even though nothing about it should.
It felt like memory.
That's what keeps circling through my mind, what I can't rationalize away no matter how hard I try.
The kiss didn't feel new. It felt like something I'd done a thousand times before, like my body knew exactly how we fit together even though my conscious mind insists we're practically strangers who barely tolerate each other.
Just like the other moments. The flashes of intimacy that slam into me at random—hands on my hips, his body above mine, the sound of his laugh in contexts that shouldn't exist. All of them carrying that same quality of memory rather than imagination.
I press my palm against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breathing. This doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense. I have gaps in my memory, yes, but not that kind of gap. Not years of missing time that could account for a relationship with Malrec Virex that I somehow forgot.
Unless I did forget. Unless something happened that made me lose more than just scattered moments. Unless—
No. I can't go down that path. Can't let myself spiral into theories that have no evidence beyond confusing physical responses and dreams that feel too real.
I need to get back to my quarters. Need to sleep and reset and figure out how to face Malrec tomorrow without this constant pull threatening to drag me back into his orbit.
The walk from the stables to the servant annex feels longer than usual.
My legs are heavy, exhaustion finally catching up after days of heightened alertness and emotional turbulence.
The corridors are quiet at this hour, most of the estate already settled for the night.
Just the low hum of containment wards and distant sound of nocturnal beasts shifting in their enclosures.
I'm almost to my door when it hits me.
Not a flash this time. Not a brief impression or fragment. A full memory that slams into me with physical force, dropping me to my knees as the world around me dissolves.
I'm in the private study—Malrec's study, though I know this without having to think about it.
The space is familiar in every detail: the dark wood desk cluttered with containment reports, the rune-lit lamps casting amber light across stone walls, the scent of sulfur and ash that clings to everything in the estate.
But it's different somehow. Warmer. More lived-in. Like it's become a shared space rather than just his.
I'm sitting on the edge of the desk, a binding manual open beside me though I'm not really reading it anymore. Just waiting. My body knows he's close before I hear footsteps—that magnetic awareness that's become second nature, pulling at my attention whenever he's near.
The door opens and he's there. Malrec, but younger somehow. His face less hardened by whatever weight he'll carry later. His ember-gold eyes finding me immediately, warming with something that makes my chest expand.
"You're still awake," he says, closing the door behind him. There's no surprise in his voice. Just quiet pleasure, like finding me here is exactly what he wanted.
"Couldn't sleep." I set the manual aside, watching him cross the room toward me. "And I knew you'd be working late anyway."
He moves into the space between my legs without hesitation, his hands settling on my hips with the easy familiarity of someone who's touched me like this countless times before. The contact sends warmth flooding through my system, but it's comfortable warmth now. Safe. Home.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his thumbs tracing small circles against my sides through the fabric of my shirt. "The new acquisition required additional containment modifications. I should have sent word that I'd be delayed."
"I'm not upset." I reach up to cup his face, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath my palm. "I just missed you."
Something shifts in his expression. Softens. His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch, like he's trying to memorize every detail. Like he's seeing something precious.
"Lenna." My name comes out rough, weighted with emotion he's still learning how to voice. "I need to tell you something."
My heart kicks harder against my ribs. Not with fear—with anticipation. With the sense that whatever he's about to say will change everything between us, even though everything already feels impossibly right.
"Okay," I whisper.
He takes a breath, his hands tightening slightly on my hips. "I've been trying to find the right moment. The right words. But there aren't right words for this, so I'm just going to—" He stops, jaw working as he struggles with whatever he's trying to say.
I wait, my thumb stroking his cheekbone in gentle encouragement. Giving him time.
"I love you."
The words hang in the air between us, simple and devastating and exactly what I needed to hear. I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes even as I start smiling—this huge, uncontrollable smile that takes over my entire face.
"Mal." His nickname slips out easily, naturally, because that's what I call him when we're alone like this. When the careful professional distance drops away and there's just us. "I love you too."
His eyes close briefly, relief washing over his features so completely that I realize he was genuinely uncertain of my response. Like he thought there was any possibility I didn't feel the same overwhelming certainty that this—us—is exactly where we're supposed to be.
When he opens them again, they're bright with emotion. Vulnerable in a way he never allows himself to be outside these private moments.
"Say it again," he breathes.
"I love you." The words come easier this time, strengthened by the joy spreading through my chest. "I love you, Malrec Virex. I think I have since the first time you looked at me like you couldn't quite figure me out."
He makes a sound—half laugh, half something more desperate—and then he's kissing me.
Deep and thorough and full of everything he can't say out loud yet.
His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us.
Until I can feel his heart beating against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring all my certainty into it. All my love and trust and absolute knowledge that this person—this impossible, complicated, brilliant person—is mine. And I'm his.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes stay closed, like he's savoring the moment.
"I never thought—" His voice cracks slightly. "I didn't think I would ever have this. Have you."
"You have me." I cup his face with both hands, making him look at me. Making sure he sees the truth in my eyes. "You've had me for a while now. I was just waiting for you to realize it."
He laughs then—genuine and warm and so full of happiness that it makes my chest ache. "I'm not good at this. At letting people in."
"I know." I smile, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. "That's why it matters so much that you're letting me in."
His arms wrap around me fully, holding me against him with careful strength. Like I'm something precious he's afraid of breaking. Like he can't quite believe I'm real.
"I love you," he says again, testing the words. Getting comfortable with them. "I love you, Lenna."
"I love you too."
We stay like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the quiet of his study. No urgency, no need to rush toward anything else. Just this perfect moment where everything finally makes sense.
I come back to myself slowly, the memory releasing me in stages. My cheek is pressed against cold stone, my body curled on the floor of the corridor. I'm crying—when did I start crying? Tears streak down my face, my chest heaving with sobs I can't control.
It felt so real. So vivid and complete and absolutely true. Not like a dream or fantasy but like something that actually happened. Like a piece of my life I somehow lost, and now I'm grieving it.
But that's impossible. I've never been in Malrec's study. Never called him Mal. Never told him I loved him or heard him say it back with that vulnerable honesty that made my heart feel too big for my chest.
Have I?
"Lenna?"
The voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. I blink, trying to focus through tears and disorientation, and find Nimae crouched in front of me. Her violet eyes are wide with concern, one hand extended toward me but not quite touching.
"What happened?" she asks quietly. "I was coming back from the kitchens and found you collapsed here. Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, the motion feeling disconnected from my body. "I'm—I don't know. I'm not hurt. I just—"
Another sob chokes off my words. I press my palm against my mouth, trying to get control of myself. Trying to breathe through the overwhelming emotion still flooding my system from that memory that shouldn't exist.
Nimae moves closer, her usual careful distance evaporating in the face of my obvious distress. "Can you sit up? Let's get you off the floor."
She helps me into a sitting position, my back against the wall. The stone is cold through my shirt but grounding. Real. Present. Not like the vivid warmth of that study, of Malrec's arms around me.
"I'm sorry," I manage, wiping roughly at my face. "I don't know what—this keeps happening."
"What keeps happening?" Nimae settles beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. It's the most physically present she's ever been with me.
I hesitate, trying to find words for something I don't understand myself. "Flashbacks. Or—I don't know what to call them. They feel like memories, but they can't be. They're of things that never happened."
Nimae watches me carefully, her expression difficult to read. "What kind of things?"
"Just—moments. Conversations. Being somewhere I've never been.
" I can't tell her it's about Malrec. Can't admit that I keep experiencing what feels like memories of being in love with him, of knowing him with an intimacy that makes no sense given our actual history.
"But they're so vivid. So real. And my body—"
I stop, pressing my hand against my chest where my heart is still racing.
"Your body remembers," Nimae finishes quietly. "Even when your mind doesn't."
I look at her sharply, surprised by the observation. "Yes. Exactly that. How did you—"
"I've seen things like this before." She shifts slightly, her gaze distant. "Memory isn't always linear. Sometimes it hides from us. Sometimes it comes back in pieces that don't fit together until they suddenly do."
"But these aren't my memories." The words come out desperate, pleading. "They can't be. I would remember—if any of this was real, I would remember."
Would I though? I have gaps already. Stretches of time I can't account for. What if there are bigger gaps than I realized? What if I lost more than just scattered moments?
What if I lost everything?
Nimae is quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches out and takes my hand, her fingers warm against mine. The gesture is so unexpected, so unlike her usual restraint, that I feel fresh tears spring to my eyes.
"You're not alone in this," she says softly. "Whatever is happening to you—whatever you're remembering or experiencing—you're not alone. I'm here."
It's the closest thing I've had to family since I can remember.
This quiet companionship with another human who sees me as more than just disposable labor.
Who's sitting with me on the floor of a corridor at an ungodly hour, holding my hand while I fall apart over memories that might not be memories at all.
"Thank you," I whisper, squeezing her fingers.