“Did I know everything that you just told me last time?” she questions, and I shake my head again, too worried to use my voice. She shrugs. “Then I'm making an informed decision.”
“I rejected you at the mating ceremony over two years ago,” I blurt, my face so warm I feel like I’m going to combust. “You're still pretty mad about that.”
Another shrug. “I don't feel mad right now,” she offers, and my lips pinch, aware of everyone watching us.
“Because you don't remember,” I mumble, and she scoffs.
“How about you let me be the judge of that?” She pulls the sheet back a little more, and the tension building in my chest softens.
Before I can talk myself out of it, since it's not working on her, I make a move I can never come back from, and claim the space my soul has been longing for.
By her side.
15
IVY
Waking to the feel of fingers running through my hair might be my new addiction.
I don't move.
I can’t.
It’s intoxicating.
Instead, I keep my cheek pressed against the chest beneath me, lulled by the way it rises and falls so gently. I feel like I’m being rocked out at sea, where nothing in the world matters.
Apparently, there’s a lot I don’t know, but the most jarring fact is that this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this situation. Being told that I’ve experienced amnesia before and knowing I can’t even recollect it is a strange feeling.
What has me even more curious is that I’m content in his arms. I don’t know why being here feels this way, but I’m not worried about what I don’t know. I’m sure it’ll all come eventually, as they all said, but for now, I’m calm and happy to bask in this little bubble, away from whatever led me here.
“Are you going to continue to pretend to be asleep?”
His gruff voice rattles his chest beneath me, and I smile.
Prying my eyes open, I squint at him. “But I'm worried you’ll stop,” I admit as my gaze meets his deep, green pools.
The sense of connection roots me to the spot. I can't quite understand why I'm so drawn to him. If what he says is true, when I remember, I won't feel it anymore.
That should be a red flag.
Instead, I dumbly ignore the signs as it draws me closer.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and I sigh, shuffling gently to look up at him better with my hand on his chest.
“Tired, hungry, in need of more petting,” I joke, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in what I already know would be a rare smile.
“Maybe we need to get you some food then. Sleep is all you seem to be doing. We can do more of that later, but if I don't get some food in you soon, my mother will likely kill me and serve me as your lunch,” he muses, making me giggle before another reluctant sigh parts my lips.
I sit up, brushing my hair back off my face before I realize we're alone.
It's calm and tranquil, unlike the madness I awoke to earlier.
He clears his throat, gaining my attention as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “You wait here, I'll go and grab some food,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and storming toward the door. Only when he reaches the doorway does he pause, gripping the frame as he glances back. “Do you want me to bring everyone back with me? Or?—”
I shake my head before he can finish. “I want peace for a minute longer,” I admit, and he nods, his eyes crinkling at the sides before he disappears.
Something tells me that’s the answer he was looking for.
