5. The Warrior

Watching my mate climb the stairs to my room, I realize it is getting harder to hide the bond we share. I’ve accidentally reacted to her thoughts, despite my best efforts not to listen in earlier. I want her and yearn to be near her. I want to take her in my arms and never let her go.

She feels the same pull but doesn’t understand what it means. Is it cruel to keep it from her? I struggled with the dilemma when I realized she had no memories. When I turned her, I expected her to wake like we all did, fully remembering her human life and experiences and having merged with the primal vampire part of herself that awakens during the transition. I’d expected her to remember me from the store, the attraction to me that she’d felt. That she would remember and give me a way to explain. That she would feel it, and it would make sense to her.

While I could dive into it, tell her about vampire mate bonds, tell her we have one, it feels wrong. I don’t want to hold her to the bond when she doesn’t know who she was before all this. No. I won’t act on it until her memories return. I vow to help her find herself again, and damn however my body feels about it.

Though, when I heard her admiring my features, wishing I would kiss and take her, I couldn’t help but want to act on my feelings. It takes everything I have not to give in. To not offer what she wants from me, I would give her anything. She is truly beautiful inside and out and I marvel that she’s mine. Her hair reminds me of sunshine on iron, and the freckles that scatter across her face seem to call to me. I want to know each one, memorize their positions, and find patterns in them.

What if she never remembers her past?

I shudder at the thought. I can only imagine how terrible it would be not to know yourself. To wake and hear the impossible words of vampire, immortal, and not remember what was before. She might become a new person, build new memories, and discover things about herself that could be different than they used to be, and she’d never even know it.

If that happens, if she has truly lost her past, I will help her build a future. I will let the relationship develop as naturally as I can, with minimal influence from the bond. Then, and only then, will I let myself reveal this connection.

I pull the tall, thick drapes shut. I don’t exactly need to rest. But I have already spent two days awake. In between my moments checking on Wren, I have to keep things running smoothly for the coven until Leland returns. I am weak like this though, so tonight, I should rest. I’ve already fed, so a good day’s sleep and I will be good as new.

Catskill Cabin Getaways is about ten minutes from the general store I first met Wren in. They are commonly used as a romantic destination for newly wed couples who favor mountain air over sandy beaches or, in Wren’s case, a failing relationship. We walk there, avoiding the road so no one will see us sneaking on the property. The news revealed that she is currently ‘missing,’ but that officials are assuming the worst.

Spencer was found and saved, though he is still unconscious, and authorities are trying to get permission to search the lake for her body. Since it is considered part of a national park, there is a lot of red tape to go through.

I need to tell Wren about the man who abandoned her in the car. Just not tonight. Tonight we are going to see if any other personal items remain behind. I hope something will be enough to give her back her memory and spare me the difficult task of revealing Spencer’s betrayal.

Cabin number five is nothing fancy, just enough for two. It doesn’t look like anyone has come by to investigate yet. Likely without Spencer being awake, they don’t know exactly where the couple had been staying. Fortunate for us to get here first.

Wren is tense, and I wish I could do more to ease that sense of foreboding that I feel growing within her. I can’t even acknowledge that I know what she is feeling without outing the connection we share. It is awful, and I am beginning to feel like I am lying.

Maybe I am.

No matter how noble it might be, I’m not okay with blatantly lying to her.

The key grants us access to the cabin easily enough, and with only one room to search, I let Wren meander at her leisure. There is a suitcase, two duffel bags on the bed, some bags of food that won’t spoil, and what looks like a toiletry bag sitting on the sink in the bathroom.

“It looks like I came here with someone,” she tells me, going through the first bag, which holds men’s clothing. A flash of irritation and anger at Spencer surges through me, unwelcome but present all the same.

This is my chance. I can tell her everything. Tell her how we first met, what happened with her and her boyfriend, and that he lives on… Or I can at least tell her what was on television. “I saw on the news that your accident had a survivor, a man named Spencer Brown.” It isn’t a lie. Technically. I won’t color her view of anything with my opinion if I can help it. She looks at me curiously, mouthing the name to herself.

She rubs the spot on her temple that had been bleeding profusely when I pulled her from the water, I watch as her face falls into a frown. “I feel like I know his face… but I don’t know anything else. Other than that, I don”t like the feeling I get when I think about him.” I would be a stronger man if I didn’t feel a sense of happiness at her words. She doesn’t like Spencer. With good reason, even if she can’t recall it. “Did you see anyone else at the lake?”

I was hoping she wouldn’t ask me that, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I am going to tell her the truth.

“Yes. I did.”

Her eyes peer at me with an emotion I can’t name. It isn’t strong enough to force itself through the mate bond, and I don’t want to pry. I hope it is just curiosity and not anger that I haven’t mentioned this until now.

“I heard you cry for help, still in the car as it sank. When I arrived at the lake, I saw this man, this Spencer, swimming to shore. He was hurt, but he’d left you behind. I’m not ashamed to admit I saved you and left him. Though I did make sure an ambulance was called when I got you home.” I hold her gaze the entire time I speak. Just as I said, there is no shame in my decision. He doesn’t deserve her pity and certainly doesn’t deserve mine.

I watch Wren’s brows knit together. She bites her bottom lip and turns her attention to the other duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling out some clothes. Jeans, sweaters, tank tops, and t-shirts. I can see something lacy from here, but she leaves that inside the bag. Thank heavens because if I had to picture her in whatever lingerie she’d brought on her trip, I don’t know if I’d be able to stop myself from making an advance.

“He left me?” Her voice seems sad and distant, and I hate Spencer all the more.

“Yes. He did.” I probably could have hidden the venom in my voice a little better. I may not be human, but I am still an imperfect man.

She nods, and the pain on her face is unmistakable.

Before I know what I am doing, I am kneeling at her feet, taking her hands in mine, unable or unwilling to stop myself. “Wren,” I reach up and brush my thumb against her cheek. “I do not know exactly what was happening in your relationship with this man before the day of your accident. But I do know, if he would let you go, then he isn’t worth your sadness.”

Her breath hitches, and I see her desperately fighting back her tears. “I’m glad he lived, even if he didn’t make an effort for me. I want to give the benefit of the doubt, but we may have been having problems….”

“How can you tell?”

She holds up a journal that she had slipped out of the bag when I wasn’t looking. “I apparently wrote about some trouble in the relationship. There are only a couple of entries. I guess I got this journal recently.” My heart sinks to see her in such pain. I move beside her on the bed and wrap my arms around her shoulders. That seems to be the cue for her tears to fall in earnest as she clutches herself to me. The bag falls to the floor, and I lean her back onto the bed, holding her through the pain as best as possible.

Her human life is gone, without even the ability to remember it, and the few ties she’d made to her past were colored with sadness. We lay there for a while, I’m not exactly sure how long, but I don’t let go until she does.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, palming her tears away.

“Don’t ever be sorry for needing support, little bird. I will gladly give you whatever you need.” I press my forehead against hers, wishing I could take the pain from her entirely. Wren’s hands slide to my face, her warm breath against mine. I know I should pull away. She is hurting, and she doesn’t know what she is doing.

I lace my fingers with one of her hands and pull it from my cheek, only to bring it to my lips. Ever so gently, I brush them against her knuckles, my body already stirring from her closeness. It would be so easy to give in to my feelings, and I desperately want to. Forcing myself to pull away slightly, I brush a rogue section of hair behind Wren’s ear.

“Tell me about the coven,” her voice is soft, curiosity about her new family shining through as she fights to move on from a past she can’t even remember. Her eyes remind me of the rolling storm clouds overhead the day I chased after her. Confusion and a hint of sadness peek out at me, but behind all of that, a glimmer of hope.

“What would you like to know?”

“Are there more members than the ones I’ve met?”

“Yes, there are.” I roll onto my back and tuck one arm behind my head. “We have a lot of members that live in the city, and they check in from time to time. Several that like to wander and travel around the world, they check in less frequently, but still show up for major events.”

I haven’t seen many of them in decades, some centuries, but it is nice knowing they”re out there somewhere.

“Have you turned many vampires?”

She sounds almost jealous. I feel a sly smile cross my face. I like that she is a little possessive. It is the bond, and while I’m not acting on it, it is good to know it is there for her too.

“You are my third.”

For obvious reasons, Wren is also my favorite. She seems to like my answer, but I can already anticipate her next question. “Rolando, me, and who else?”

Wren curls up into my side, finding a nook at my shoulder and resting her head on me. Her warmth is something I want to dive into and submerge myself in. Instinct has me shift and bring my other arm around, resting my hand on her hip. I look down at her, unable to resist marveling at the uncanny events that led to finding Wren. Fate, luck, the gods, whatever it is that brought us together had a fucking awful sense of humor. Stealing her thoughts and making it so much more complicated than it needs to be.

“Herbert Sutton,” pride fills my voice. Rolando was my first, Herbert was my second, and while Herb doesn’t stay with us locally, he is an enigma. “He runs a wellness center in California right now, helping people who struggle with addiction. He leaves about every ten years and sets up again elsewhere. That’s usually when we can expect him to check in.”

Wren raises her eyes to meet mine, staring into me. Her thoughts are screaming at me again. Images flash of her running her hands up my stomach, of our lips crashing together in fiery heat and passion. I can tell how she wants me to grasp her thighs, spread them apart, and take her here and now. I try to quiet them, to distance my mind from hers.

Our breath mingles together. I fight to keep my wits when all I want to do is roll on top of her and give her exactly what she wants. It is so messed up. I don’t know much about how mates work, but something tells me it will be harder to be around Wren until we act upon and seal the bond. Every fiber of my being wants her, and fate seems pretty pissed that I am resisting. My hand is absently stroking her shoulder, and her face is far too close to mine.

More flashes of Wren pressing her lips to mine, of pulling my shirt off and admiring what lay beneath. She gives me far too much credit as far as my physique goes. Christ, it is driving me slowly insane to keep getting these glimpses. As much as I want to be near her, as much as I want to get to know her, we have to call it a night.

“We should probably get going soon,” I remind gently. The last thing we want is for someone to see her here, knowing she is technically missing.

“Yes, we should leave.” Her words agree, but I don’t miss the reluctance in her tone. “I don’t think I will get my memory back from this anyway. Let’s go home.”

Home.

Warmth spreads through my chest at the word. She thinks of my home as hers now.

It is.

It always will be.