“You’re now Elora Leigh, the first and last Dyrsjel and my—” He glances at the wolf. She nudges his hand, as if she understands him. “You’re my wife.”
“I…”
He reaches out his hand again, finding a break in the wall of thorns between us. His fingertips brush mine. We stand that way for a moment, his skin lighting a fire against my own.
“I don’t know you.” I rip my hand away. “Pay the price or?—”
He drops his head, cradling it in his hands. “I don’t need you to know me.” He glances at me again, worry forming between his brows. “I just need you to remember whoyouare. Think of our kiss, Elora. Think of the memories. They are not what’s coming, but what’s already been. Please—” He tries to step forward, but I raise my hand and move another wall of thorns in his path.
“I am the keeper of the Wicked Wood.” My voice amplifies and the trees shudder. “Pay my price, thief, or lose your life.”
His eyes light up and he grips the woven barrier of thorns between us, not minding the sharp edges against his palms. “What did you just call me?” There’s a hopeful desperation in his voice. “Say it again. Call me a thief again.”
Images flash behind my eyes again. This man and the river. His lips on mine in a room that’s unfamiliar. Me, cradled in his arms in these very woods.
So lost in the memories, my grip on the thorns between us falls, and he makes his way to me again. His fingers entwine with mine, heat blooming against my frozen skin. “I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you why you fell in love with me,” he says, “but right now I just need you to remember yourself.”
He kisses my forehead and it’s the final threshold on my memories. Like a dam breaking, they wash over me. Consume me. They make me forget and remember all at the same time. I forget the pain and the fear of dying and remember what it was to live.
With him.
I drop to my knees, clawing at my chest, at the erratic beating and sharp pain.
“I have you,” he says, joining me on the ground.
“I am Elora Leigh.” My voice wavers, but he wraps me in his arms, a small flutter stirs, this time in my stomach. “And you are Sorin Rudhek.”
His body shudders against mine so I clutch him tighter.
The wolf howls again and my confusion turns to excitement because I remember. “Ruse.”
Sorin nods, his hands stroking my bare back. A gale of wind whips around us sending branches flying, dirt and rocks littering the air. We have been here before.
Wehavebeen here.
A crack of lightning illuminates the sky, bringing a memory with it.
I sit up, tears streaming down my cheeks. Mud and twigs entwine in my golden hair but that isn’t what catches my breath. I hold my hands before my face and in them are the Stones. As I bring them to my mouth, and kiss each one gently, my eyes turn from amber to gold.
My eyes snap open as I suck in in a sharp breath. I bring my hands to my mouth, now swollen and pink from our kissing. “I was…”
Sorin nods, reaching for me again. “You were the first Enchantress, love.” He hangs his head, letting out a long breath. “Our souls?—”
“Have been reborn,” I finish for him. There goes that fluttering in my chest again. “It’s you.” I trace my fingers over his face. Around his full lips, down his nose. “I remember you.”
His face breaks, leaning forward so his forehead presses against mine. “I love you.”
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
His fingers entwine with mine again. “I knew you, even when I didn’t,” he says. “My soul craved its other half and now that I’ve found it, I refuse to let go.”
My body shudders.
“I meant it when I said I’d spend the rest of this life reminding you why you love me,” he says. “I don’t ever intend for you to forget again. I want all of you, this life and in the last.”
