Chapter Nineteen: Carys

Carys lay as if in a dream as she snuggled into the man at her side. His heat and his scent enveloped her, making her wish she could stay here forever.

She moved closer to him and pressed her lips to his chest.

Then she froze.

Wait.

Who was this guy?

Her eyes darted open as she tried to remember last night, but there wasn't anything to remember. She had no memory of talking to him, going home with him, or…

Oh God, I've been roofied. There was no other explanation for why she was in bed with a complete stranger, with no memory of what had happened. Panic surged through her, but deep down inside, she knew that wasn't true.

Her head was clear, which made the next revelation all the stranger.

This man would never hurt her. This man was someone special. This man was…hers.

So why couldn't she remember anything about him?

Carys sat up, pulling the sheet with her to cover her nakedness. Get out, get out of here now. The words drummed in her head, but instead of throwing back the sheet and running from the room, her gaze fell on his sleeping face. A sense of loss swept over her, as if by leaving his side she was leaving behind something precious. Something that, if lost, she could never replace.

She shook her head. What the hell was wrong with her? This was crazy. She didn't know him. He could be anyone. He could be dangerous.

What should she do? Call the police? And say what?

I can't remember this man. But I think I love him.

She swallowed hard. Where did that come from?

Perhaps he had cast a spell over her? A love spell.

Or maybe she was being set up. She glanced around the room.

Was this some plot to discredit her in her work somehow? Perhaps the man in bed beside her was as much a victim as she was.

Get out of there. That was her best option. Get out of there and then figure it out. She could still go to the police. But for now, she needed to put some distance between her and this man.

Carys swung her legs out of the bed and gathered her clothes from the floor, along with her panties and bra. She grabbed them and put them on, before getting down on her hands and knees to search for her shoes, thinking they'd been hidden until she found them under the bed.

As she straightened up, she noted the half-eaten box of chocolates on the nightstand, along with two wine glasses, and a gift box.

She put her hand to her neck and closed her finger and thumb around the necklace she wore. A moon and stars. She didn't recognize it; it wasn't hers.

Carys was tempted to take it off, but it was proof. Proof that she had been here. With him.

She turned and looked at the man still sleeping. He looked so peaceful and, once again, the desire to slip back under the covers and lie in his arms overwhelmed her.

But she fought the desire. Fought it with all the strength she had.

Fully dressed, she snuck across the room, her shoes clutched in her arms, taking care not to make a sound. She didn't want to wake him. She had to leave him sleeping and slip away unnoticed.

Carys put her hand on the door handle. Just a few more steps and she'd be out of here. With one last look at the man in the bed, she turned the handle and slipped out the door, closing it silently behind her.

Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like she was leaving the best thing that had ever happened to her? Why did it feel like she was tearing a hole in her heart?

Well, it couldn't have been the best thing ever. She'd surely have remembered that .

Carys paused in the hallway and took a moment to get her bearings before slipping on her shoes and heading for the staircase at the end of the corridor that thankfully led up onto the street.

The frosty morning air hit her, and she sucked in a breath, shivering as she hugged herself. Tears pricked her eyes as she took a stumbling step along the sidewalk. Then she straightened up, her spine straight as she crossed the street. Her focus was on getting home…

She glanced behind her, taking one last look at the apartment building where the man she'd obviously spent the night with lay sleeping.

He was home.

The notion was preposterous. Yet persistent.

Carys shook her head, trying to dislodge the absurd thought. She quickened her pace, her shoes clicking against the sidewalk as she hurried away from the unfamiliar building. The streets of Wishing Moon Bay were quiet in the early morning light, a few wisps of mist still clinging to the corners and alleyways.

Luckily she was on a high road, and could clearly see plenty of landmarks, which at least put her at ease that she could find her way to somewhere familiar.

As she walked, flashes of memory began to surface. Not of the man himself.

But hazy details of a Yuletide tree in a Christmas market, and the smell of spiced cider. Was that where she'd met him? She had spent the day with the Regulars, though. Surely, they would not have let her go home with a stranger like that.

She needed to get back to Aunt Elsbeth's house. Hopefully, her aunt and her cousin would help her find some answers. Even if it meant interrogating those old codgers from the tavern.

Quickening her pace, she shivered as the early morning chill crept under her clothes. Carys hugged herself for warmth and to shake off the feeling of unease that grew with every step she took.

Being lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't realize when she had turned onto the familiar street that led to Aunt Elsbeth's quaint cottage. As she approached the drive, each step seemed harder and heavier. It wasn't the thought of the shame of admitting to everyone what had happened and asking for advice—they would be understanding—no; it was the unshakable feeling that she had left something valuable behind.

She checked her pockets and her purse. Everything was with her. Then her hands brushed against the unfamiliar necklace around her neck. It felt warm against her skin, a constant reminder of the man she'd woken up next to.

At her aunt's garden gate, Carys paused, one hand on the latch, worn smooth by the many generations who had entered here. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then she opened the gate, walking the familiar path to the front door.

She climbed the porch steps and reached for the door handle, turning it slowly, not wanting to wake her aunt or cousin. But when she pushed the door open, the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes told her someone was already up.

A sense of relief swept over her, and she hurriedly opened the door wider and slipped inside, needing to talk to someone about last night.

"Ah, there you are!" Elsbeth's voice rang out, and she appeared in the kitchen doorway. "I was just beginning to wonder where you had gotten to. I'll pour us a coffee and you can tell us all about your evening."

"Mom," Marilla said in a teasing tone. "Carys might not want to share how her night went."

Carys stared at her cousin, then her aunt, her eyes misting with tears.

Instantly, Elsbeth and Marilla came to her, and she covered her face with her hands as they hugged her. "I don't remember anything about last night. All I know is I woke up this morning in a stranger's bed."

"It happened again, then," Marilla rubbed Carys's back. "I'm so sorry."

"We thought since you and Varn spent the night together that you would remember each other this time," Elsbeth said.

" This time ? This has happened before?" Carys pulled away from them in shock.

"Yes. You met Varn a couple of days ago. But each night you seem to forget each other," Elsbeth explained.

"He forgets me, too?" Carys asked, her voice shaking. The idea that the man she'd woken up next to, the man she'd felt such a deep connection with even with no memory of him, didn't remember her either, made it worse somehow.

Elsbeth nodded, her eyes filled with sympathy. "It's a curse of some kind. One that needs breaking."

"Come on, Carys. Sit down and have some coffee and something to eat." Marilla guided Carys to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. "You'll feel much better, I promise."

"I'll finish the pancakes." Elsbeth poured ladlefuls of batter into a sizzling pan, while simultaneously grabbing plates and syrup for the meal. Soon, the comforting aroma of freshly made pancakes wafted through the kitchen. But even the inviting smell of pancakes could not soothe Carys as she sank into the chair, her mind reeling.

A curse? How was that possible? Who would cast a curse that made her forget the man she loved each night? It seemed too cruel. Surely no one she knew would be capable of such a thing.

Marilla set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Carys and took a seat beside her. "We will figure this out for you, Carys."

Carys wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "Do we have any idea who is behind it?"

"No," Marilla admitted with a nervous glance at her mom.

"What aren't you telling me?" Carys asked.

Marilla chewed on her bottom lip before answering. "Varn says that he sensed you years ago in Cairnnor…"

"Sensed me? So, he's a shifter?" That piece of information made everything a hundred times worse. For a shifter to have found and then lost his mate… It was the cruelest form of torture.

"He's a dragon shifter," Marilla confirmed as Elsbeth flipped pancakes. "And he's been searching for you ever since that day, so he says. He's spent the last year traveling the world looking for you…" She glanced at her mom again.

"But he might have met me and neither of us remember," Carys finished.

"Yes." Elsbeth set a stack of pancakes down on the table and then took a seat. "It seems that might be the case."

Carys stared down at her untouched pancakes, her appetite gone. The thought that Varn, her mate, had been searching for her all this time, only to have their memories of each other erased every night, was too painful to bear.

"We might have met countless times and not remember," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elsbeth reached across the table and squeezed Carys's hand. "We don't know, but after breakfast, I am going to summon the coven and we are going to figure out a way to break the spell or curse, or whatever it is."

But that might be easier said than done if they didn't know who was responsible. On her travels, Carys had encountered so many people and races and professions, some that wielded magic that was all but alien to the witches of Wishing Moon Bay.

There were so many questions. What was the reason? Was it a curse on both of them, just her or just Varn? How strong was it? How long had they been cursed?

Carys sucked in a breath and picked up her fork. Well, in that case, she and Varn would have to travel the world together in search of a cure, if that's what it took.

They might forget each other each night, but if they wrote themselves a note explaining the situation, they could start each day anew, determined to break the curse and reclaim their stolen memories.

Carys took a bite of her pancakes, the warm sweetness a small comfort amidst the growing anger inside. She wanted to find who was responsible and hold them accountable. But if the curse dated back years, that might be impossible.

"Does Varn think this curse originated on Cairnnor?" Carys asked.

"I would believe he does…or does when he knows about it," Elsbeth replied. "From what we gather, he thought that his and Flint's father had whisked you away in the middle that night, but it might just be that was when the curse was put in place, for whatever nefarious reason they had in mind."

"Flint's father?" Carys rubbed her forehead as she tried to make sense of everything. "So, the curse might be meant to keep us apart for some reason to do with the dragons." Carys mulled this over as she chewed. "Or it might have been cast because of my work."

"Either," Elsbeth replied. "But that is a question that might be answered once we break the curse, and you get your memories back."

"True." Carys nodded, optimism blooming in her heart. If…when…she got her memories back, all the pieces might slot into place. Then they would know what they were dealing with. If the curse was that old, the person, or persons responsible, might even have passed away. There had been an incredible amount of upheaval on the dragon isle in the last couple of years. The old regime was gone, replaced by new rulers.

So, once the spell was broken, she and Varn could move on with their lives.

Had they discussed their future together already?

Had they discussed where they would live, and how many children they wanted? How they would live around her work? What did he do for work?

"I should go take a shower." Carys finished her coffee and stood up. "We have a long day ahead of us, ladies."

With that, she left the kitchen, vowing not to rest until the spell was broken.

Although, as she went upstairs to the bathroom and turned on the hot water, a niggling thought entered her head.

What if she was responsible for the spell? What if she had wanted Varn to forget her?