by Fleur Smith
“What is it?” I asked, desperate to drag him toward me and keep kissing him forever.
“I can’t do this,” he murmured. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked. It was clear he wanted me; I had felt the evidence of that in wonderfully delightful ways. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve grown to care about you, Evie. A ridiculous amount considering it’s only been a few weeks. But I can’t do this.”
“I need more than just ‘I can’t,’” I said through my choppy, desperate breaths.
“I can’t be with you while you’re still in love with another man.”
“But it’s you. I’m in love with you.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re in love with who I was. A man I can’t remember. He might as well be someone else for all I know about him.”
“But—”
“This is exactly why I couldn’t tell you how I felt.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Ever since I realized how I feel about you, I’ve been waiting.”
“What for?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, even though I needed it.
“For the moment when you look at me and don’t see him.” His hands moved from his hair to scrub the back of his neck. “How ridiculous do I sound? I’m jealous of myself for having already stolen your heart.”
“I understand.” Or at least, I was trying to.
Ignoring the doubt and fear in his gaze, I closed the distance between us and straddled his lap. Reaching for his wrists, I wrapped his arms around me. It was his doubt more than anything else that convinced me this wasn’t just some chance for him to score. His emotions were clear and so perfect they made me want to melt into his arms and convince him how I felt about him—not just who he used to be, but also who he was now. “And I’m sorry I can’t forget you. You’re pretty darn unforgettable.” I rested my forehead against his, but didn’t kiss him. It was all I wanted to do, but this had to be on his terms. “I told you this would be hard for me.”
Leaving one arm wrapped around my waist, he lifted the other hand to caress my cheek. “Can we have an agreement before we go any further?”
“What?”
“Us. The past. It doesn’t exist anymore. It can’t.”
My brows pinched. “I can’t just forget about the last seven years, Clay.”
He closed his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh. “I just mean, can we put it behind us? I don’t care about then, I care about now. I don’t care about who I was, I care about who I am. Let’s just live for today, yeah?”
I nodded. “I think I can do that.”
My lips were so close to his, and he swallowed my last word as he pressed his mouth against mine. A whimper left me at the desperation in his kiss. How long ago had he started to feel more? I wanted to ask, but didn’t want to break the spell.
His confidence grew again and he reached for the hem of my shirt. Inch by inch, he lifted the material up and off me. I’d been dreaming of it, missing him so much, that I could barely breathe now that it was happening. His fingertips trailed paths over every inch of me, building the need in me until I couldn’t contain it any longer. My bra followed shortly after, his fingers trailing a path over the outline of my breasts.
He whimpered against my skin as he thrust his hips forward. I tipped my head back as his lips explored. After a moment, he stilled all movement, drawing my attention back to him.
Despite my fear that I’d done something to make him stop, he was as intent as ever. Only, he’d sunk back against the back of the sofa and used his gaze, rather than his fingertips, to examine my body. It reminded me of our first time together, when he’d spent so long absorbing every detail.
It was only then I realized that for him, this was the first time.
My heart leaped into my throat as understanding grew within me about just how monumental a moment his was for him. He might not have had any memories of anything before a few months ago, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t make new ones. I had an opportunity to have a second first time with him, but with the knowledge of everything he preferred. I had the opportunity to blow his mind.
I smirked at the thought.
“What is it?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my smile.
Tilting my head a little, I captured his thumb between my lips and sucked it into my mouth. The little moan he issued was everything. When he tipped his head back, I rolled my hips over his, earning another little groan of delight. I wanted more.
Continuing the slow motion of my hips, I explored his body with my hands, peeling his clothing away piece by piece. He released another slow, stuttering breath as I backed off his lap and made short work on his pants and boxer shorts.
His gaze followed my every movement as I sank to my knees in front of him. With slow movements, partly to prolong his pleasure but also because I wanted to give him the opportunity to stop if anything was happening too fast, I trailed my hands along his thighs and found my position between his knees.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of his body under my skin. I imagined I could feel our auras dancing together, and smiled as I realized Clay would be able to see that. Kissing a path along his happy trail, I relished in the sharp intake of breath he drew as I took him into my mouth.
“God, Evie, that’s . . .” He trailed off into a garbled cry as I stroked my tongue over his length. I set a rhythm I knew he liked. Every hum, sigh, and groan was music to my ears.
When his groans grew in intensity, I pulled away and sat back on my haunches.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured.
“There’ll be time for more of that later,” I said. “We haven’t even started living for the day yet.”
I stood and removed the last of my own clothing. When I stepped free of my panties, Clay reached out his hand to me, guiding me onto his lap. I sat on his thighs, desperate to move forward and join with him, but equally wanting to take my time—to let him move when he was ready.
His fingertips kneaded the muscles on my lower back, rubbing circles and stroking paths that drove me crazy. Outside of that movement though, he seemed to have stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I—” He sighed and swallowed down his words. For a moment he closed his eyes. “I haven’t done this before.”
I didn’t argue with him even though the statement was technically incorrect.
“Tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?” As the words left him, his hands moved and he began to trace new paths over my body.
“You’re doing pretty good so far,” I murmured before leaning forward to claim his mouth. As I did, his fingertips found the apex of my thighs. The gentle touch was exactly what I’d needed—longed for—since his return, but it wasn’t enough, stoking the fire rather than quelling it.
I was ready for him, ready to claim Clay—in whatever form I could. Coaxing his hand out of the way, I grabbed hold of his shaft and guided it to my entrance. Matching moans left us as I sank over him.
I’ve missed you! The words danced on the tip of my tongue, desperate to fight their way free, but I couldn’t let them out. They would signal the end of the union, because it would be proof that I wanted my husband back more than I wanted the man in front of me. It was true, and at the same time, it wasn’t.
Forcing the thoughts and doubts out of my head, I did what I’d promised to do. I lived for the moment. Relished his touch. Enjoyed his kiss. Panted his name as a prayer while he moved inside me.
One thing was certain. It didn’t matter what we faced, it would be together. Nothing could tear us apart. Not life. Not even death. We were one, and whatever was thrown at us we’d deal with it together.
An hour later, we were a grinning pile of limbs tangled on the sofa.
“Wow!” he exclaimed against the shell of my ear. His breath tickled through my hair. “That was beyond anything I’d expected. How on earth do people get anything else done when that’s an option?”
His words reminded me that it w
asn’t just our first time for him. Because he’d lost all of his memories, he had no recollection of his real first time. For him it was the first time. He’d just arrived suddenly at adulthood with a killer instinct and a bursting libido.
“I forget that you need to experience all of these things again,” I said.
“And again, and again,” he chuckled, kissing my collarbone.
I nudged him with my shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. And I’m grateful that you’ve taken the time to show me things. My instincts were right about you.”
“Not the ones where you wanted to kill me,” I clarified.
“Of course not,” he said before murmuring, “I can’t believe I ever let Dad convince me of those things. That I almost killed Ethan just to get to you. Or that I almost killed you and the twins.”
“You’ve more than made up for that though.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to make it up to you. Just tell me what you need and it’ll be done.”
“I have everything I need.” I leaned my head against his chest and listened to the slowing beat of his racing heart. “Right here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“WHERE DID YOU say you are?” I asked Ethan. He was calling from his most recent trip overseas. I had no idea why he’d taken so many journeys to all the corners of the world, but it was pretty much the only thing he’d done for the past few months. He’d even let all of his Rain duties fall by the wayside.
“Greece.” Ethan’s voice was tinny from the long-distance line and echoing because he was on speakerphone. It sounded like he was talking to us through a copper pipe in a bathroom.
“Why are you in Greece?” Clay asked.
“We found legends about a pair of springs near the source of the Erkina River in Lebadia. Apparently they’re still flowing even now, and one’s called Lethe. The area is off-limits for fae, just like Alaska, so I’m assuming the legends are true—they are the real waters.”
“What are you doing anywhere near there, Eth?” I growled. “That stuff’s dangerous.”
“The water doesn’t affect me,” he reminded me.
“Still, you shouldn’t be there.” If he accidentally brought something back that was contaminated, any one of our fae family could lose their memories. Clay could lose his again; I won’t let that happen.
“Just hear me out,” he said. “There’s the second spring here. The Mnemosyne. It was another River in Hades, and it means memory. I was thinking that if the River Lethe stole Clay’s memory—”
“Maybe the Mnemosyne spring can restore it?” I could barely believe what he was telling me.
I could have Clay back, whole and complete.
I met Clay’s eyes, and I could see the conflict raging in him. I had to turn my gaze away so that he couldn’t see the hope in mine. Our conversations over the last few weeks resurfaced, and I realized that he might have been right about something—I was still in love with the old Clay. But he was wrong about something too—I loved who he was now as well. In my mind, they weren’t as separate and distinct as he believed they were. He was the man he’d always been, just without the memories of his past.
“I guess it’s worth a try,” he murmured to the handset, still seeming reluctant and more than a little hesitant.
“It’ll take us a few days to hike there and a few more to hike back. I’ll probably be back in about a week, maybe a week and a half.”
After ending the call with Ethan, Clay was in a bad mood. When I confronted him about it, he turned the question back around on me.
“Did you ask Ethan to find a fix?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because you want the real Clay back.” I could tell he was hurt by the thought. It made me regret my choice of words the last time we were in the court.
“You are the real Clay. Memories or not.”
He grunted in response, as if he didn’t believe me, but his mood lifted a little after I said it.
AS PROMISED, Ethan returned a little over a week later with a metal flask and a visitor. At his side stood a petite, and rather pretty, woman with shoulder-length hair dyed an odd shade of florescent green. She appeared to be around Ethan’s age, but I couldn’t be certain. I figured she was the “we” that Ethan kept referring to during his calls, but I had no idea who she was—or why she was in our house.
She bounded to Clay’s side, punched his arm and then kissed his cheek. The familiarity in the move confused me, but it was clear she knew him—or at least thought she did. “Hey, cowboy,” she said with a grin.
Clay stared blankly at her, and she frowned before turning to Ethan. “Wow, when you said all, you really meant all, didn’t you?”
My lips turned down as I assessed Ethan’s guest and her familiarity with Clay. Tucking away the spike of jealousy that rose in my chest, I introduced myself.
Ethan grinned at me. “This is Toni from Oxford.”
The place rang a bell in my mind, but I couldn’t think where. Oxford? There was something that happened at Oxford that Clay had never filled me in on.
Toni smiled up at me. “Of course you’re Evie.” She rushed over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’d kiss you if it wasn’t wildly inappropriate.”
The whole encounter was so surreal. “Why?”
“Why? Well, for one thing I don’t really swing that way, and for another it would excite the boys far too much.”
She laughed at the expression on my face.
“Don’t you know? You started a revolution.”
Clay turned to me in confusion.
“I didn’t do anything,” I argued.
“But you did, by being you. When Clay was with me back at the Dove, we could only dream of changing the world as much as the two of you did during your assault on Bayview.”
“You and Clay?” I looked to him for guidance, even though he clearly had no memory of her.
She grinned. “Almost from the day Clay turned up on my doorstep, we just hit it off.”
I tried to be patient and understanding. After all, Clay had accepted Aiden into our lives—this Toni had obviously meant something to him in the past. I just couldn’t completely shake the jealousy that stole through my veins like an icy version of the heat that once pumped through me.
“Didn’t Clay ever tell you about Toni?” Ethan asked, giving Clay a look filled with pity. I wondered if I wasn’t hiding my jealousy quite as well as I’d hoped.
“Oh, we were wild,” Toni said, winking at Ethan. “After the first night we spent in his bedroom, he was so exhausted that he slept like a log for a solid nine hours.”
I flinched. I might have shared the information about my history with Aiden, but I’d never gone into specifics. When she met my eye again, the corners of Toni’s mouth twitched as if she was barely holding back a smile.
“The mess was unbelievable,” she continued with amusement dancing in her eyes.
Ethan started to laugh, and Toni follow suit.
“Relax, nothing ever happened between us. He was just like an annoying, stinky little brother.”
“Stinky?” It figured Clay was irritated by that word and not the rest of the situation.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way he smells,” I defended.
Toni laughed. “He’d come to us after a long time on the road though. At least he probably showered properly before meeting up with you.”
A look of consternation crossed Clay’s face, and I knew it was because too much time had been spent reminiscing. The past was a place that was no longer available to him. I reached for his hand and held it in mine, letting him know silently that I understood. “As nice as this reunion is, we just live for each day now.”
Sorrow stole Toni’s smile. “Of course. How does it feel?” she asked him. “Never mind,” she added almost instantly, no doubt in response to his stern expression.
Ethan seemed to realize the moment was quickly s
piraling from the feel-good homecoming he’d expected to something darker. “The good news is, with Toni’s help—”
“And the help of my fae friends,” she added before frowning at Clay’s lack of response.
“We found the spring and brought you back bottled memories.” Ethan produced a small silver flask, which Clay stared at with open disdain. Even though Clay was the one who had ultimately agreed to the idea, I began to regret letting him—I worried that the small flask would set our relationship back after we’d gained so much ground lately.
Clay reached out and grabbed the water from Ethan before turning back to the dining table where we had an array of foods already laid out ready for lunch. Placing the flask in front of his seat, Clay invited the others to join us before sitting at the table himself.
Both Ethan and Toni stayed for lunch, doting over Ava and David until eventually the twins went down for a nap. Instead of spending time with the guests, Clay spent the whole time sullen and silent, watching the flask of water closely. It was almost as if he expected the liquid to force its way out of the container, rush to him and destroy who he’d become. Only after our guests had left, did Clay go anywhere near the water again. Both Toni and Ethan seemed to realize that consuming the waters of the Mnemosyne was something Clay needed to do alone—or at least with only me and the babies around to support him.
“Do you really want me to drink this?” he asked, holding up the flask before twisting it side to side, as if a closer examination would change the contents.
I shrugged. Honestly, I was a bundle of nerves about it. I wanted it so badly, but I wanted him to want it too. If he didn’t want to try it, I would be happy with what we had. “It might restore your memory.”
“And if it does? What then? Does that mean I go and he returns?”
“I don’t know.”
“I could be killing myself to give you back the man you love,” he murmured.
I shook my head. “You have to believe me when I say that I love you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I couldn’t make him understand, even after months of my gentle coaxing, he still saw himself as two separate entities—the before and after, each distinct people.