by V. Vaughn
Chapter 31
TRISTAN
I grab Lexi’s hand and lead her to a bench on the far side of the park away from everyone else. My introverted ways are making me antsy from being around so many people, but what I have to say is important, and the Lexi I know can’t handle a long car ride in suspense very well. We sit. It’s a beautiful spot with big oak trees, and leaves swaying in the warm breeze let out a chaotic, fluttering melody. I ask, “Remember when I said we were mated?”
She nods.
“Every shifter has a mate. You know that another shifter is your mate the day you meet them. It’s instinctual. It’s something you feel down deep in your gut. You just know.”
“You knew when you first met me?”
“Absolutely. I saw you across the crowded pub and it was literally like an arrow to the heart.” He smiles. “You felt it too, because otherwise you would have never fallen for my bad line.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and I wonder if she’s thinking about how she doesn’t remember that moment for herself. I wish I could replay it for her. I knew she felt the same bolt of emotion that I did, and it was worth every single uncomfortable moment I spent in that crowded bar before we met.
“However,” I say, “the bond isn’t sealed until we bite each other.”
Lexi shudders. “What? Goodness, that sounds—medieval.”
“Well, it’s simple really. We bite each other while in human form. It usually a special moment where we profess our love for each other too. I can imagine you’re focused on the pain, but it’s actually quite touching.”
Her face scrunches up into a grimace before she catches herself. “I’m sorry. I going to need a few minutes to wrap my brain around this.”
“It’s okay.” I’ve never bitten anyone before, but I’ve heard stories and I recall one guys love to brag about. I slowly trail my hand over her arm because I know she’s going to like what I have to say. “In fact, it’s well known that we bite during sex.” I lower my voice to a sexy tone, trying to maximize the impact of my words. “Especially during orgasm because it heightens the experience.” I clench my hand in a fist and make an explosion noise as I extend my fingers.
She bursts out laughing and smacks me in the leg. “Could you be any more male than that? I’ve got better ideas for kinky sex I’d like to explore.”
I laugh too, although kinky sex is now on my mind, and I wonder if she’s thinking about handcuffs. Or tying me up, because I gotta say, I’d have no problem with that. A little Lexi domination could go a long way. I clear my throat as I shift position to make room for my raging boner. “And explore you can,” I say. My voice is so husky she’s got to know I’m horny as hell.
She pumps her eyebrows at me. “Challenge accepted.”
I pull her onto my lap to let her feel how turned on I am, and to hide it from everyone else. “We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not comfortable with. When you’re ready, you’ll know.”
She slides her hand under her bottom to grab my dick, making me suck in air, and I twitch with my desire ratcheting up a notch further. I grab her head to kiss her, and neither of us are shy about making out like a couple of horny teenagers. When a woman clears her throat loudly though, I stop and pull away. “Sex in the park is frowned upon, although I’m not sure if it’s punishable.” I give Lexi an evil smile. “Animal urges and all.”
“Children are present,” she chides. She gives me a quick kiss and climbs off my lap.
“Seriously, though,” I say to get back to the subject of the bite-bond. “Biting you is important to me, but I won’t push. I’m confident your lion will help you accept the ritual.”
“Okay.” She snuggles into me and we watch as more townspeople stroll through the park in various animal forms. Her eyes widen like two saucers when a big brown bear comes lumbering toward us. “Oh my god, is he going to eat us?”
I laugh. “I really hope not. It would ruin a great friendship.” When the bear reaches us, he lifts one huge paw. “Lexi, let me introduce you to my best bud, Bruce.”
Unsure, she reaches for his paw, although she glances at me more than once for reassurance. She grabs his paw between her two hands and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Bruce.”
He snorts.
“I’ll reintroduce you after he shifts back to human.”
She laughs, and Bruce lumbers away again to go chase Delilah in her goat form around the fountain. It’s comical to watch, especially when Delilah jumps on top of Bruce’s back and he carries her around like that. I’ve seen them do that before. They have a pretty strong friendship as animals. Delilah took his brother and him in when he was a boy and has been like a mother to him since.
Lexi watches in wonder, and the smile on her face tells me bringing her here was a good idea. Her acceptance of this park is a good sign. It gives me hope she’ll take to the idea of the mate bond quickly too. Patience is not always easy for me, but when it comes to the woman I plan to spend my life with, it’s not hard to find a way. I smile too, content things will work out with time.
Unless… Icy fingers crawl down my spine, making me shiver a little, because there’s one thing that could ruin my perfect world I’ve created. Lexi still doesn’t know what really happened the night of the accident, and it’s a truth I’m not ready to face. Although, with the way her memory has been coming back in bits and pieces, I may not have a choice.
Chapter 32
LEXI
My sewing machine hums as I work on a quilt. Tristan is set up on the couch in his office working. Yesterday, after we got home from the park, he showed me my work in progress that I’d stored in the guest room closet. It must be something I’ve done most of my life because I instantly knew what to do, and the process of piecing fabric together has given me time to think. When I was practicing on scrap fabric last night, a big memory came to me, making me believe my aunt is the one who taught me to sew.
I remembered that I’m an orphan, my parents died in an accident when I was ten, and I was raised by my aunt Ruby, who lives in California but is known to take off on adventures. She is also a tiger shifter, and last Tristan knew she was on a safari. He’d called her to leave messages when I was missing and then once I was found, but she doesn’t like cell phones, and he said she probably has it stored away during her safari. He suggested I try to call her anyway. I got her voicemail and left a cheerful message. I was a little relieved I didn’t have to explain my amnesia and worry another person who loves me. Hopefully, by the time she returns from Africa I’ll have my happy memories of us in place and we can pick up where we left off.
I press a button on my machine to reverse direction at the end of a square without stopping the bobbing needle. When I stop, the presser foot clicks into place as I raise it to remove the fabric. So many more memories are coming to me today as I sew, and I’m afraid to take a break and ruin the flow by telling them to Tristan.
There’s no rhyme or reason to them, though. It’s like flipping through a slide show of my life in random order, flash after flash of events both big and small. I’m taking it all in, but there’s one memory encased in a shield of secrecy. Tristan hasn’t talked about it, and until now I haven’t wanted to think about it. But I think it’s time I explore what really happened with my accident. All I know is that it took Tristan almost a week to find me, and I can’t quite fathom why if we used to spend as much time together as we do now.
I think that if I can piece together what happened to cause my memory loss, everything else might fall into place. I can’t explain why I’m suddenly convinced of this, but I want to ask Tristan to take me to the scene of the accident. Because the more I think about it, the more I want to know. I’m so obsessed that I believe it’s the only way I’m going to be able to move on.
I get up to make lunch before Tristan gets hungry. It doesn’t seem fair to me that he’s working and trying to take care of me, and I’m making a conscious effort to relieve him of some of
the household duties. I check the fridge to find we’re running low on food before I open a few cabinets. Fortunately, I find canned tuna, something I believe his cat will like as much as mine just told me she does. I call out to him. “How do tuna melts sound?”
“Perfect. Want some help?”
“I’ve got it.” Once I’ve got our open-faced sandwiches under the broiler so the cheese can melt, I clear my project off the table for us to eat. And minutes later Tristan and I are across from each other indulging in fishy goodness.
I know there’s no easy way to ask, and that if I spend time leading up to the subject I might chicken out, so I jump right in. “I’d like to go to the accident site, Tristan,” I grab a chip and try my best to gaze at him as if it’s no big deal.
“I thought we could go into town to see a movie. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He doesn’t look at me as he talks.
While I suspected he didn’t want to revisit my accident, I thought it might be because he believed it would be a painful subject for me. Now I wonder if he was actually avoiding it for his own reasons. “I would like that,” I say. “But today, today I want to go to the accident site.” I reach across the table and grab his hand so he’ll look me in the eye. “I need to see where it happened. I think I need to remember it.”
“Why do you want to remember something so painful? How can that help? You’ve gotten almost all your memories back already.” He pulls his hand away to lift up his food and take a big bite.
“Tristan,” I say. “Please. I need this. Whatever pain it may cause me will be worth it because I need to know what happened.”
He sets his sandwich down and swallows hard as if he’s struggling to choke down his food. “Okay.” He gets up from the table with his plate, even though he’s still got half of his lunch on it. Something is definitely wrong, because that man never gets full. He walks past me and says, “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
I stare at him in shock as he goes into the bathroom. I have no idea what’s going on, but whatever it is, I’m not about to let it keep me from the truth. Since I’ve lost my appetite too, I get up to clean the kitchen, and when he emerges from the bathroom, I say, “I’m ready to go now.”
Tristan doesn’t talk, and it doesn’t help the way my nerves are zinging through me or the queasiness in my stomach, but I’m determined to find out the truth.
There’s a light drizzle falling, and the windshield wipers thud slow and steady like music from a movie soundtrack warning me danger is ahead. We turn right out of the driveway instead of left toward Heartland. Tristan drives just under the speed limit, and it’s eerie considering this is a man with lightning-quick reflexes who can maneuver a vehicle as fast and as safely as a race car driver. I wonder if he’s freaked out about the night he almost lost me. The road curves around the mountains, with a rocky rise on one side and a guardrail on the other separating the road from the steep, wooded incline. We travel for about fifteen minutes before Tristan slows the SUV down. Gravel crunches under the tires as he pulls onto the shoulder at the beginning of a sharp curve in the road. He parks, and we get out.
He leads me to a set of dark S-shaped skid marks on the pavement that lead into a section of the guard rail that is shiny and new. My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m the reason it’s been replaced. He licks his lips, and his brow knits as he gestures to the rail. I notice how pale his face is, like he’s about to be sick, and I want to wipe away his concern.
“It’s okay, babe, don’t look so worried,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re not the one who almost died out here.”
The minute the words are out of my mouth I regret them. He gazes at me with so much pain I can almost feel it as he says, “I know.” He turns away from the scene, and I wish I hadn’t had him bring me here. I should have asked where it happened and come on my own.
I let him walk away, and part of me wants to follow the man I love, to comfort him the way he has comforted me. But I can’t. I need to know.
I take slow, deliberate steps to the guardrail as dampness permeates my light jacket. A chill races down my spine as if to warn me to stay away, but I’m determined to look over the edge and see what I left behind in my wake and maybe find out how far I fell. I reach out to touch the metal of the guardrail, expecting it to be cool to the touch. I have no idea if it is, though, because as soon as I touch it a memory crashes into me, and it’s the night of the accident.
It’s dark, and rain is coming down so hard the roof of my car rings out as if someone’s dropping pebbles on it. Fear has me white-knuckling the steering wheel. I don’t know why I would’ve been out in the storm, because I’m suddenly aware I’m not a good driver. I don’t want to be behind the wheel, and I’m lost. I think I’ve missed my turn, but I can’t pull over to turn around because there isn’t a shoulder where I can be safe. I recall coming around the bend, barely able to see because the glare from an oncoming vehicle blinds me just for a moment, and my car suddenly feels like it’s floating, and then it’s not. But it doesn’t matter because I’ve lost control of my vehicle, and when I slam on the brakes the screech of my tires fills my head before the crunch of metal deafens me. My head hits the steering wheel hard, and I see a flash of white before my vision clears enough for me to realize I’m falling. I think I scream as I feel pain so intense it nearly blinds me. I see the tree, and I think I hit it, but I’m not sure because the memory stops.
I gasp and clutch the guard rail as if it’s the only thing keeping me from falling over the edge again. I begin to sink, my knees no longer able to hold me up, but Tristan is there before I fall. He holds me close as I begin to shake uncontrollably.
“Lexi,” I gaze up to see tears in Tristan’s eyes. “Oh, god, Lexi. I’m so sorry.” I grab his shirt and clutch at it as if he’s the only thing keeping me safe. And maybe he is because he says, “It’s okay, honey.” He runs a hand over my head to smooth my damp hair away. A tear runs down his cheek. “You’re safe now. And I’ll never let something like that happen to you ever again. I swear it.”
I bury my face in his chest while my shaking subsides. But as I recover from my shock, I realize his words don’t make sense. How could he have kept me from crashing? But even more concerning is why I was even driving in such dangerous conditions considering how poorly I operate a vehicle to start with. “I don’t understand, Tristan. Where was I going, and why was I so desperate to get there?”
He hugs me tighter. His heart pounds in his chest like thunder, and I can detect the acrid odor of fear, regret. Shame. There’s something he’s not telling me.
I pull back to look up into his face. “What is it?”
Tristan swallows and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as if he’s consuming something big in one gulp. He meets my gaze, and I see the darkness of self-loathing in his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason you were out in the storm.”
Chapter 33
TRISTAN
“No,” Lexi chants as if she can make it be true. She steps back from me and holds her head. “No. No. No.”
I can see the confusion in her eyes, and it breaks my heart all over again. How can I explain it to her without destroying her trust? I need to find a way because she deserves the truth. And I deserve whatever she decides to do with it. “That night I asked you to come to my house. I begged you, because I had something important on my mind.”
She frowns. “Surely you knew the storm was coming.”
I press my lips together and nod. “I did, but I—I didn’t think it would be as bad as it was. I refused to consider the possibility, actually. When we were on the phone it was only drizzling.”
“Why were you so adamant about seeing me that night?”
I rub my hand over my face. I don’t want to tell her, but I realize how selfish I’m being now and how selfish I was the night of the accident. I insisted our special moment be on my terms. I didn’t want to go into town that night, or any night for that matter. I hate going
to town and being around people.
It was the one thing she’s never asked me to do. She knew. She understood why I live up here on the mountain away from everything else. And she never would have forced me to do something that made me uncomfortable. Yet I…
Guilt plunges its steely knife into my heart. My selfishness almost killed her, and I’m afraid to let her know what I did. Despite regaining some of her memories, this Lexi is a little bit different. She hasn’t gone through two years of my hang ups, two years of catering to me in many ways to alleviate my discomfort. Not that I ever asked her to, she just did it, but the Lexi standing here with me knows none of that.
All her memories of us consist of good things. She remembers our trip to Cabo and the romantic evening on the moonlit beach, but she doesn’t remember arguing in the hotel room about going to the big party down at the pool. She wanted to dance and experience the island music. I didn’t want to go because it meant people would bump into us. Voices would be too loud, and my ears would ring from it all. I convinced her that a quiet dinner at a little out-of-the-way place in the village nearby and then coming back to our room and dancing to the music we could overhear on our balcony would be more romantic. She relented and didn’t make me feel bad in any way, which she always managed, because she was and is one of the most loving and giving people I’ve ever known.
She also doesn’t remember the fight we had when I asked her to move in with me, away from town, away from her friends and easy access to her work at the school. She told me she wouldn’t unless we got married. And I took that to heart. It was another reason I wanted to ask her to marry me. I was having a hard time living without her in my life every day, and to be honest, I’ve loved having her to myself the last two weeks. But keeping her from her home and friends under the guise that it would be too overwhelming for her is only more evidence of how selfish I can be.