Ivy
Burying my face into the firm body pressed against mine, I bite back a groan as the familiar scent of leather and vanilla envelops me.
As the tendrils of sleep disappear, I become more aware of my surroundings, with a hazy recollection of what happened before I fell asleep.
Amnesia.
Fated mates.
Phoenix.
Hugo.
Despite the distress that threatens to reignite, the arm wrapped around my shoulders holds me tighter, blessing me with an air of quietness and calm. My yearning for more obliterates the tension threatening to creep in, and I pry my eyes open, wanting to see the man in person.
He fills my vision, as handsome as I remember from just before I passed out with exhaustion. I don’t remember my fated mates or mating ceremony at all, and it leaves a pang in my chest. Hopefully it comes back to me sooner rather than later.
His eyelids are closed, his dark hair sticking up in every direction, but I know he’s not asleep from the way his fingers stroke idly down my arm. Instead of making a point of it, I bask in the silence for a little longer, soaking up his energy as I dare to look around the room.
I’m still in the same room at the Medical Center.
Archer lies beside me, but the other three guys who are apparently also my fated mates are sprawled out in cushioned seats around the room.
Mr. Man Bun has the spot by the door, his legs extended far enough to be triggered if someone opens it.
Beside him sleeps the guy with the cropped hair.
Awake, his features make him appear observant; asleep, he looks brooding and mysterious with his arms folded over his chest. Finally, I glance at the blond.
There’s a bandage wrapped around his arm and an air of sadness knitting his brows together, even as he sleeps.
A flash of red from the side table by my bed confirms Ember is still here, and the darkness peering in through the window confirms it’s the middle of the night.
It’s just Hugo I can’t locate, but my gut tells me he’s not too far away.
I purse my lips, considering whether to get up and find him or not, but my bed buddy must sense my indecision because his eyes ping open a moment later.
“You’re supposed to be resting, Angel,” he breathes, adjusting us so we’re both lying on our sides, staring deep into one another’s eyes.
I blush under his attention. “I was just worrying about Hugo,” I admit, and he nods, lifting his hand to my cheek as he smiles.
“He’s around here somewhere. We all know he won’t go far while you’re still admitted.” I search his eyes. For what? I’m not sure, but it leaves him curious too. “What are you thinking about?”
I shrug. “You don’t want to know what’s going on in here,” I admit, tapping my temple as my chest tightens, and he pulls me in closer.
Our noses brush as his hand drops to my waist, his fingers flexing against my side, making me shiver in his hold. Instinctively, my fingers reach for his hair, running through the soft ends, and he groans.
“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working,” he rasps, and I snicker, clamping my free hand over my mouth as I continue to tease the ends of his hair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tease, but my lips don’t lift at the corners as I hope, and he reads me like a book as his hand turns icy at my side. I gape at him, but before I can ask, he answers.
“Angel, I’m a Fire Protector too. I can tell when someone is lying or not. Hot for a truth. Ice for a lie.”
It takes a second for his words to settle over me, but I understand. “That’s a pretty awesome ability,” I admit, and he nods.
“Thanks, but my ego is big enough. I’ll take the compliment, but I’d rather take your truth instead,” he insists, and I sigh, recalling the madness that ensued before I passed out earlier.
Clearing my throat, I stare at his lips, fixating on them instead of his eyes as I try to find the strength to speak, but it’s me who is distracted this time.
I eliminate the distance between us, pressing my lips against his gently, and my world shatters into a million pieces. His hand finds its way to the back of my head, deepening our connection as he swallows my groan, and my leg hikes over his thigh, desperate to be closer to him.
All too quickly, he leans back, tearing his mouth from mine, leaving us both panting as he shakes his head and gapes at me with blown pupils.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grumbles, and I smile.
He exhales slowly as he drags the pad of his thumb across my lips, and I shiver.
“No more distractions, Ivy. Let me into that pretty head of yours,” he insists, and I sigh.
When it’s clear he’s not going to falter on the matter, I remove my limbs from his and shuffle to sit up with my back pressed against the headboard. My gaze scans across the others, who all seem to remain asleep, before I return my attention to the man beside me.
“How was I killed?”
The words leave my mouth, and he darts from the bed, hightailing it over to the window in a flash. My heart races as I devour his every movement, watching as he curls his hands into fists on the window frame, unable to look at me.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sighs, his head dipping for a moment before he glances over his shoulder at me. “I don’t think I’m the best person to answer that,” he starts, and my back stiffens.
“Did you kill me?” I blurt, and his eyes widen as he stands tall.
“No, of course not.”
Confused, I toss back the blankets, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and press my feet against the floor.
He doesn’t try to stop me or help me, and I’m grateful for the independence it offers.
Rising to my full height, I take a few steps to join him at the window.
The second I’m within arm’s reach, he pulls me into his embrace, my back to his front as he rests his chin on my shoulder.
I’m quickly distracted by the view outside, the sky clear and dotted with stars. I feel like I’m floating when I’m watching them, tiny and inconsequential in comparison. I’ve always loved how the stars twinkle, like balls of heat eager to lure us into the unknown.
“You really want to know?” he whispers, and I nod.
“Band-Aid,” I confirm, just like I did with my brother, and he inhales sharply.
“You were taken in the dead of night from Teddy’s bed. With Hugo’s guidance, we were able to find you at an outpost between Kingdoms Two and Three. When we arrived, you were locked in a room with them and we couldn’t get in.”
“Band-Aid me, Archer,” I repeat, the story twisting and weaving around my lungs, suffocating me.
“Fuck,” he grumbles to himself, his forehead resting against my shoulder for a moment before he stands tall. “It was your father.”
My body turns to ice with disbelief, but the warm patch from his hand to my hip confirms his words. My father played a part in my death?
“Why would he do that?”
He shrugs. “He seemed to be following his instincts and taking a guess on your abilities,” he mutters, rage laced into every word as I shake my head.
“So he killed me?” His silence is answer enough. “How?”
“Angel,” he whispers, his fingers flexing at my sides, as if the memory is too painful.
Gulping, I persist. “Please, Archer. I have to know.”
“He put a bullet between your eyes, Ivy. Right there, while we were trapped on the other side of the door. I will never forgive myself for not making it to you in time.”
I spin on the spot, stars forgotten as I look deep into Archer’s eyes. The sorrow is real; I don’t need his magic to confirm that for me. I cup his face with my hands, inching closer so we’re nose to nose before I speak. “You didn’t pull the trigger. This isn’t on you.”
“You should hate me,” he retorts, and my eyebrows gather in confusion.
“Archer—” I start, but he shakes his head.
“You do hate me,” he whispers, and I scoff, refusing to listen to his nonsense as I grab his hand and tug him back to the bed.
If we’ve disturbed anyone, they don’t show it as we take a seat on the side of the bed.
While my mind reels with the knowledge of what my father is capable of, I opt to focus on lightening the mood for both of us. “When do you think my memory will return?”
He offers me a tight smile, draping his arm around my shoulders as he continues to hold me in some way.
“It could be anytime. Dr. Holland mentioned that the severity of your memory loss can be connected to the intensity of your death, but he doesn’t have any actual experience, only the information he’s researching. ”
I nod. “That sounds depressing,” I admit with a half smile, and he hums in agreement. “Tell me something fun. Remind me how we met,” I insist, now the one desperate for the distraction.
“You don’t want to know that,” he retorts, and I shake my head.
“Please, amuse me. It’s important.”
He drags his free hand down his face, an air of reluctance dancing between us as he clears his throat. “You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and that was before you were even declared as mine,” he admits, making my heart lurch as a smile spreads across my lips.
“I was not,” I say, failing to wave him off as he captures my hand, bringing it to his lap.
“The Angel of Heaven’s Ridge is known, in some capacity, to most in the Fifth Kingdom, but seeing you in real life is impossible to describe.
” My cheeks heat, but he carries on. “Everything about you was a beacon, drawing me in, threatening to take my soul there and then. So when my name was called for you, I knew my life was never going to be the same.”
Emotion clogs my throat as I move on instinct once again, crushing my lips to his. He cups my cheek, guiding me as we fuse together, softer this time, gentler, and less urgent, but it only makes me want more of him.