“When we were…” Heat crawls up my neck. “When we were together. I meantogethertogether. He called me by her name.”
Nadia’s jaw tightens. Her eyes flash—definitely more silver now, her wolf close to the surface. But she doesn’t speak. Just lets the confession breathe.
“So you see,” I continue, “I’m a stand-in. The girl who feels enough like her, or is just… there when he needs someone to—”
“Stop.” Nadia’s voice is firm. “That’s not what that means.”
“How can it mean anything else?” I look up at her. “We were making love, and he called me another woman’s name. His dead mate’s name. That’s pretty clear, isn’t it?”
“It’s clear that he’s carrying years of grief and trauma.” Nadia leans forward. “That his memories just came back. That he’s probably struggling to separate past from present when everything he buried is suddenly right there in his face.”
“Or it’s clear that when he closes his eyes, he sees her.” My lips tighten. “Not me.”
Nadia is quiet. Her wolf eyes study me with that unsettling intensity shifters have.
“Can I tell you something?” she finally says. “About mates and memory and how this works for people like us?”
“People like you,” I correct. “I’m human.”
“People who love deeply,” she amends. “When you lose a mate—especially violently, suddenly—they don’t just disappear from your mind. They’re woven into everything. Every intimate moment, every vulnerable space, they’re there. It’s not about wanting them to be. It’s about the grooves they carved being so deep that sometimes you fall into them without meaning to.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe it was just old wounds bleeding into new moments.
“She was a witch,” I say quietly. “A powerful one. She died to save the Heartstone. She mattered enough that he made an oath to protect her bloodline for eternity. How do I compete with that kind of legend?”
“You don’t.” Nadia says it simply. “You can’t compete with a memory, Mara. Memories are perfect because they’re frozen. They don’t argue or make mistakes or have morning breath. But they’re also not real. Not anymore. You are.”
“She saved his entire clan. I accidentally exposed dragons on the internet.”
“And then you climbed a mountain, survived a helicopter crash, infiltrated a Syndicate facility, and helped rescue their king.” Nadia’s grip tightens on the chair arms. “You think that doesn’t matter? You think he bound himself to someone he considers insignificant?”
“He told me I’m not a replacement,” I whisper. “But he didn’t deny that he still has feelings for her.”
“Of course he does.” Nadia says it like it’s obvious. “She was his mate. You don’t stop loving someone just because they’re dead. But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for anyone else.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I lost my mate five years ago.” The words are quiet. Matter-of-fact. “And I still love him. I probably always will. But that doesn’t mean I’m broken. It doesn’t mean I can’t—” She stops. Clears her throat. “It doesn’t mean my heart stopped working.”
Oh.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. “I didn’t know.”
“Most people don’t.” She shrugs, but I can see the grief underneath. Old grief. The kind that’s learned to coexist with living. “My point is, loving someone you lost doesn’t mean you can’t love someone new. It just means your heart is big enough for both. And sometimes—” Her voice softens. “Sometimes in the early days, when everything is raw and new and terrifying, the past bleeds through. It doesn’t mean the present matters less.”
“But how do I know?” The question tears out of me. “How do I know if what he feels is real or if I’m just—” I gesture helplessly. “A ghost made flesh. The second chance he gets to not fuck up.”
Nadia studies me. Her wolf eyes seeing things I’m not saying.
“You’re in love with him,” she says quietly.
Not a question. A statement.
I can’t breathe.
“I—” The denial sticks in my throat. “I’ve known him for a week. Love doesn’t happen that fast.”
“Shifters can scent their mates in seconds.” She tilts her head. “Time doesn’t always matter when the connection is real.”
