HIM 50. I remember her.
But I want to.
Three words. Whispered against my ear. And something in me just—snapped.
I pull her onto my lap before I can think about it. She comes easily, legs settling on either side of me, the blanket slipping off one shoulder. Now she's pressed against me, her damp hair curling a little at the ends, her hands braced on my chest.
Ten minutes. That's what I told Mera. Ten minutes and then I'd meet with Maz.
It's probably been 2 already.
"I need to go," I say, even as my hands tighten on her waist. "Maz is waiting. He wants to give me a full overview of the past weeks—from the time of my memory loss until now. The brief update I got from Mera was just that..."
I trail off.
She's watching me, and I can tell she didn't hear a word I just said. Her eyes are fixed on my hand at her waist, on my fingers that have started moving—stroking her skin through the thin fabric of the blanket without me even thinking about it.
Her hands find mine. She starts to touch me, letting her fingers slide up my arms slowly, taking her time.
I have to suppress a sound because it feels so right.
One of her hands finds the back of my neck and presses against it, holding me there. She leans in for a short moment. A tiny peck on my neck.
My thoughts immediately disappear.
My whole body—no, my whole being—is suddenly consumed with her again. My body craves her like I've never craved anything in my life. I want to touch her. I want to kiss her. I want to bite—
Stop it.
The last part of my rational brain interrupts the fog. This can only be explained by her having some kind of spell on me—or this mating thing is truly going to mess me up. Concentration seems like the last thing on my mind right now. All I want to do is—
Fuck. Concentrate. The pack is in danger.
I know that from the small briefing with Mera and Maz. I need to figure out how to solve this thing with—
She presses herself against me, her chest flush with mine. Her hand travels down my stomach while she kisses—no, licks—that spot on my neck. I can feel the warmth of her mouth, the soft pressure of her tongue, and every thought I had just evaporates.
When did I get so distracted by a human?
Since you mated to one, a voice inside my head says.
And unlike before, the thought doesn't feel wrong or foreign.
It feels right. Just right.
I need to focus.
I need to think about something other than the way she feels pressed against me, the way her mouth is doing things to my neck that make rational thought impossible.
"Tell me what you first thought of me."
She laughs against my neck, her breath warm on my skin.
I need more control.
I take her hands, threading my fingers through hers, and bring them gently behind her back. She lets me, watching me with those wide eyes.
Now I'm the one holding her.
I lean in and kiss her neck. First one side, slow and lingering. Then the other. She presses herself closer, trying to move toward me, seeking more contact.
"What?" she says breathlessly.
"What was your first impression of me?" I ask, continuing to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the edge of her jaw.
"I was impressed by—"
I bite her chin lightly.
She breathes in sharply.
"Impressed by what?"
"Impressed and frightened by your presence." Her words come out unsteady. "But I liked that you—"
She tries to free her arms, her movements more frantic now, trying to regain some control. But I hold her there, controlling the pace, having free rein on where to touch, where to kiss next. My mouth finds the hollow of her throat. Her pulse jumps under my lips.
She lets out an annoyed sigh and tries to kiss me, but I move back—just a little. My mouth hovers almost touching hers. Almost. But not quite.
"Impressed by the way you respected me," she continues, her voice strained. "I liked that you talked to me—not to John—"
That motherfucker.
The thought comes out of nowhere, sharp and certain. I don't even know why, but something deep in my gut twists with hatred at the sound of his name.
Strange.
"—and that you considered my words before acting out your revenge. You listened."
"Interesting."
My mouth moves to her cheek now. She desperately tries to turn her head toward me, but I hold her chin with my free hand, keeping her still.
"What did you think when you got to the pack?"
I kiss her once. Just once. On the lips.
When I pull back, her eyes focus on mine—foggy, not quite clear.
"I was surprised by the structure and culture you have. And I was completely overwhelmed by you."
"By me?" I trace my thumb along her jaw. "What did I do?"
"One time you told me that no one should put their hands on me."
"They shouldn't."
"And another time—" Her breath catches as I press my lips to the corner of her mouth. "—you got on your knees. Right in front of me. Just to talk to me."
"That seems like an interesting but wise choice."
"And then you lied to me." Her voice drops. "And I hated you."
"That seems exactly like me."
"And then you tried to save me."
"That honestly sounds confusing."
"And then—"
I release her hands, letting them fall free. My palms find her waist instead, settling there like they belong.
I still, my lips hovering near her temple. "And then?"
"And then, somewhere along the way, you showed yourself to me. The real you." Her voice is softer now, almost tender. "The one who struggles with being a leader. The one who had to give up his name..."
Something shifts.
The thought catches somewhere—like a hook finding fabric. And then it pulls.
It doesn't come back all at once. Not like a door opening or a light switching on. It's more like—fragments. Shards of something broken starting to find their edges again.
A smell first. Rain on stone. The scent of her hair when I buried my face in it.
My hands tighten on her waist without me meaning to.
More fragments. The feeling of her pulse under my lips. The way she looked at me that first day—not only with fear, but with something defiant. Stubborn.
The images come faster now. Disconnected. Out of order.
Her standing in a cave, trying not to be terrified.
Her crying. Why was she crying? Someone hurt her.
My breath is coming faster. My hands are shaking.
And then—underneath all the fragments, underneath the images and sounds and sensations—I feel it.
The bond.
Not empty anymore. Not that cold, hollow ache that's been sitting in my chest since I woke up.
It's there. Faint at first, like a radio finding its frequency. Then stronger. Clearer.
Her.
I can feel her.
Warmth floods through me—her emotions bleeding into mine. Relief so sharp it almost hurts. Hope. And underneath it, fear.
I can feel all of it. Everything she's feeling, tangled up with everything I'm feeling, until I can't tell where she ends and I begin.
My eyes find hers, and I see the exact moment she realizes something has changed. Her lips part. Her hands, resting on my shoulders, go still.
"You—" she starts.
Both my hands come up to cup her face, and I just look at her. Really look at her.
The memory of her, of us—it's not complete. There are gaps, missing pieces, whole conversations I can't quite reach.
"I told you," I say slowly, my voice rough, "that you'd always have a home with me."
Her breath catches. Tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them back hard.
"You remember?"
"Some of it." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "Not everything. But enough."
Enough to feel the bond thrumming between us, strong and steady, like a second heartbeat.
She makes a sound—half laugh, half sob—and then her arms are around my neck, her face buried against my shoulder, her whole body pressing into mine like she's afraid I'll disappear.
I hold her there.
Through the bond, I feel her relief crash over me in waves. The fear draining out of her. The tension she's been carrying finally releasing.
And underneath all of it—underneath the relief and the fear and the hope—I feel something else.
Something fierce and bright and completely overwhelming.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
"I still need to talk to Maz," I say quietly.
She laughs, wiping at her eyes. "I know."
I lean in and kiss her. Not desperate this time. Not frantic. Just slow and certain, like a promise.
When I pull back, she's smiling. That real smile, the one that makes something in my chest ache in the best way.
The bond hums between us, warm and whole.