The next hour was a blur of tests and examinations. Blood draws, brain scans, reflexes tests, memory assessments. Through it all, Knox stayed glued to my side, his hand always touching some part of me. My shoulder, my arm, my hand, my knee. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from maintaining physical contact.
“Her memory loss appears to be temporary,” Dr. Hartley finally announced, looking at a chart. “The brain scans show no permanent damage. Based on the bloodwork results and her symptoms, I believe this is a form of retrograde amnesia brought on by the trauma of her delivery combined with what was in that syringe. Results say it’s some sort of sedative - just in case, throw away your daughter’s milk. Wait for her to nurse. Luna’s memories should return gradually, but I can’t say how long it will take. Days, weeks, possibly longer.”
Knox exhaled slowly. “But they will return?”
“I have every reason to believe so, yes.”
I watched this exchange, fear churning in my stomach. “Delivery? What delivery?”
Knox and Dr. Hartley exchanged a look that made my stomach drop.
“Maybe you should explain,” Dr. Hartley said gently, nodding at Knox. “She needs to hear it from you.”
She left the room, closing the door behind her, and suddenly it was just me and this gorgeous stranger. My pulse quickened. My palms grew sweaty.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence and trying to keep my voice steady. “We know each other?”
He laughed, but it was hollow. Pained. He sat down on the edge of my bed, close enough that our knees touched.
“Yeah, Lina. We know each other.”
“And you’re my... mate?” The word felt foreign on my tongue. “What does that even mean?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s... complicated. But the short version is that I’m a werewolf. And you’re my mate. My other half. The person I was born to love.”
I waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, I laughed. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”
“You’re the Luna of Ravenshollow Pack, actually. Which is pretty close.”
He wasn’t laughing.
I studied his face, looking for any sign that he was joking. Any hint that this was all some elaborate prank. But his gray eyes were deadly serious, filled with a pain that made my chest ache.
Either this man was insane, or I had woken up in a world where werewolves existed. Neither option was particularly reassuring.
“You’re not kidding.”
“No.”
“Werewolves are real.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m married to one.”
“Yes.”
“And we have...” I tried to remember what he’d said earlier. “Kids?”
His expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Three. Twins, Rowan and Thea, they’re five. And our baby girl. She was born a month ago.”
The world tilted.
I hadthreechildren. Children I didn’t remember conceiving, carrying, birthing. Children who would look at me and expect their mother and get... this. A blank faced stranger wearing their mother’s skin.
Terror clawed at my throat.
“A month ago?” I screeched. “I’ve been unconscious this whole time?”
