Then the memory flips, and we’re stuck in a storm, his hand desperately searching for mine. He never finds it.
My body relaxes and as it does, the man kisses me again, placing his hands along my back.
The images don’t stop, if anything they grow more and more intense the deeper he kisses me.
We’re together again, but now our hair has grown white and our skin has become wrinkled. I watch myself as I kiss himthen, softly on his weathered cheek. He smiles at me and that fluttering in my chest happens again.
The memory persists, but now we are curled around each other as we take our last breaths.
Gasping, I pull away from him, but the man holds me tight.
“Elora,” he says, his lips red from where my teeth scraped against them. His brows are pinched together, and I get the faint feeling that it’s unusual for him to look so distressed.
I let the roots and vines around him fall, and he takes full advantage, wrapping his arms tighter around me and kissing me again.
As his lips connect with mine, I see him in this life.
Across from me on a riverbank. Dark brown eyes meet mine, and even if I didn’t know it then, something snaps in me now. Something about the way he’s looking at me. Something about the line of his jaw and the bridge of his nose. Like I’ve studied him before. Have taken the time to memorize each and every part of his face, down to the very dimple on his cheek.
I kiss him deeper, tangling my fingers through his hair. A soft moan leaves his lips and so I don’t pull away. Bringing his bottom lip through my teeth.
And he kisses me too.
His hands roam my body, snagging on patches of bark and a few rogue vines. But it doesn’t stop his determination. I’m lost in his passion, barely noticing as something cold slips around my neck. A frozen sting jolts me and my eyes flash open just as a burst of light explodes around us, the trees creaking and snapping.
I jump but the man holds me tightly. He kisses me again and again until my skin begins to heat and the fluttering in my chest grows steady.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
He groans as I bite his bottom lip, and when we finally break away, I open my eyes and realize he’s already watching me.
I should know you.
I run my fingers along my lower lip, savoring the lingering heat of his touch, watching his face as I do. His dark eyes never leave mine. His lips are moving, his eyes wide and frantic. He’s saying something, a name.
“Soleil,” he says. “Your name was Soleil. And now it’s Elora.”
Elora.
The name turns something to my chest, and when I back away, he grabs me again. Glancing down, his arms are bloodied from where I’ve scratched him. His lips swollen and bruised from my sharpened teeth. But he raises his arm anyway and shakily places a hand upon my chest.
The forest around me groans, the trees swaying but there is no breeze. He lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping forward, his hand still on my chest, pushing against the steady beat now happening from inside of me.
My eyes gloss over.
I should remember you.
I’m lost in the confusion of it all. How did I get here and how did this man find me? For a moment, I question the memories. Surely a trick of the wood. But when the man tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, the beating in my chest intensifies.
I remembersomething. I just don’t know what.
“Come on, love.” He holds out his hand. Thorny brambles shoot up from the ground to create a barrier between us. He sighs, dropping his hand to his side. “Your name was Soleil Arden, I was Bastian Arden.”
That fluttering in my chest has turned from delicate to frantic. Over and over there’s a slamming against my ribs, a bruising pace.
