Lucas motions toward his arms and legs with a wry smile. "I guess my healing ca back with a vengeance."
That's an understatent.
My heart pounds as I rush a few feet forward, stopping short at the foot of the bed as I drink him in.
Alive. Well. Healed.
The strong alpha I rember, even if he doesn't know anymore.
"Can I... would it be okay if I looked you over?" All the confidence I projected at that receptionist from earlier is gone, and I'm timid in front of my mate, this man with my heart in his hands.
He surprises by standing up beside the bed, a low chuckle stirring my heart and tear ducts into production. A slow circle, arms raised, as if showing himself off.
Steady.
Confident.
No trace of the injuries that had left him bedridden.
The familiar planes of his face soften with a lopsided smile that squeezes my heart. I ache to touch him, to assure myself this isn't another dream that will evaporate like mist.
His golden eyes are clear, no longer marred by the hint of pain. The broad shoulders I once clung to stand straight, unbowed by suffering. His skin is unblemished, no longer marred by recent wounds.
Joy surges through my veins, bright and buoyant. He's here. Whole. Well, almost.
My vision blurs with tears, and I hiccup in the most unladylike manner. "I'm so glad you're better."
The words aren't enough to convey the depth of my joy over his recovery.
Lucas motions for to sit on the end of the bed. I perch there, hyper-aware of his presence as he settles on the opposite end. The distance between us feels too far, and I wonder if for him it isn't far enough.
His gaze is still that of a stranger, but his words are more friendly than yesterday. "The mate bond must be real. You're the only change in my treatnt. I guess my body recognizes it sohow."
Mate bonds are supposed to help with healing, but we never finalized ours. Still, it feels good to think that my presence has sohow contributed.
My eyes fix on his hand resting on the bed. I ache to reach out, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. But I hold back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He may acknowledge our bond now, but he doesn't know . Not really.
"If being here helped at all, I'm just thankful to have finally done sothing for you." My lips quirk. "You're usually the one doing everything for . It's odd to have the shoe on the other fit."
He chuckles. "I can see how that might be strange."
Like it's soone else's problem. It hurts a little less knowing he's healing, though. Maybe soon his mories will return. That would be amazing.
Suddenly, Lucas sniffs the air. His brow furrows, a strange expression crossing his face. "Your scent... it's different today. Why?"
Heat floods my face. I cross my arms over my chest, mortified. Whatever it is, he doesn't seem to like it. "I showered before I ca," I insist, my voice higher than usual. "I'm clean."
Lucas shakes his head. "No, it's not that. There's sothing... new."
I bite my lip, trying to think of what could have changed. Maybe the bracelet Dr. Blackwell gave ?
"Is it this?" Lifting my wrist, I waft the bracelet in the air between us. "It's new."
He leans forward to sniff, then shakes his head. "No. Sothing else. Earthier."
There's a flash in his eyes, reminiscent of the way Lucas used to look at . Hungry.
Though I might be wrong. By the way his nose wrinkles and he recoils back just a bit, my guess is that I'm really wrong.
Shit. He doesn't like how I sll.
How can my mate dislike my scent? Such a thing should be impossible.
Even when I hated Lucas, I wanted to bury myself in my scent.
"Sorry. Should I shower again?"
"No," he says, sounding oddly distant as his nose wrinkles again. "I think it should be okay. What's your na again?"
My heart drops. "Ava. Ava Grey."
"Right. Grey. The Blackwood Greys, right?"
For a second, I'm startled he would rember that—but, of course, Kellan must have filled him in on recent history and the current pack situation. Of course he knows my family. My old pack.
My nod is heavy on my neck. "Beta Grey is my father, yes."
He looks thoughtful, bending his knee to rest his arm against it. Casual. Powerful. Looking way too good for soone who doesn't want yet. My body and bond within yearn to get closer, to snuggle against him, but I shove that urge aside.
"The enemy," he muses. "A curious choice of mate."
"It's a fated connection. No choice for either of us," I remind him, and his eyes flash.
"Right. I forgot about that."
Forgot. Like it's just so random detail… We're fated.
I have to stop letting these little phrases get down, but it's hard.
Scratching at my arm, I realize my itching is back, and that string of connection within is humming, tugging as if to get my attention.
But I can't focus on that right now. I'm with Lucas.
"What's wrong?" he asks , studying my face.
"Just itchy. Have the doctors said anything about you breaking out of this room? I'm sure you're desperate to get out of here."
"Right. Desperate." His face shutters, and I wonder what landmine I've walked into. "We haven't talked about it."
Awkward silence descends. Squeezing my hands between my knees, I try to look anywhere but at Lucas, who stares at like he's trying to figure out a puzzle.
His intense gaze sends shivers down my spine. They're pleasurable, at odds with the ache in my heart. I scratch absently at my legs, trying to ignore the growing itch that seems to spread across my skin. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and emotions I can't quite decipher.
I know what I'm feeling; the question is what he's feeling. Sotis I think he's warming up to . Other tis I think he's suspicious of . It's like walking on a tightrope of emotions.
"What do you want from ?"
His sudden question makes jump. I blink, caught off guard by the directness of his words. "I... what?"
Lucas leans forward, his golden eyes never leaving mine. "You heard . What do you want from , Ava Grey?"
The way he says my na, like it's unfamiliar on his tongue, twists sothing inside . There's arousal, and the bond telling to jump on him, to slather myself in his scent and warmth. Does he not feel any of it? Or is he able to ignore it, to pretend it isn't there?
I want to ask, but I don't want to know the answer.
Swallowing hard, I pull my thoughts back. "I just want your mory to return," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to rember who you are, who we are to each other. To feel the bond between us."
He tilts his head, considering my words. "And if my mory never cos back? If the bond isn't there? What then? What's your expectation of ?"
The question stalls in the mont. I've been so focused on getting Lucas's mory back that I haven't allowed myself to consider the possibility that it might never happen. The thought terrifies , but I force myself to face it head-on.
"I guess that would depend on what you want to do with yourself," I say, choosing my words carefully. "Even without your mory, you're still you, Lucas. You're still the Alpha of the Westwood Pack. You still have responsibilities, people who depend on you. But the decision to take up that position is ultimately yours."
I pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But beyond that, it would be up to you. If you decide you don't want anything to do with , with us, I... I'd understand. I wouldn't like it, but I'd respect your decision."
The words are bitter on my tongue, acid against my throat, but they're honest. As much as it would kill to lose Lucas, to have him choose to walk away from what we have, I can't force him to be with .
He looks curious. "You'd let go? Just like that?"
"You're not a prisoner. You're my mate, yes, but you're also your own person. If you decide that you don't want this life, don't want , then... then I'd have to accept that."
He makes a soft sound I can't decipher, leaning more comfortably against the head of the bed. "I don't think I'd do the sa in your position. I'd chase you down and force you to rember ."
My lips quirk. "Yes, that kind of sounds like you."
His nod is slow, considering. "That's good to know. I'm still , even if I don't know ."
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