9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

T hings were not better in the morning. Not that King had expected them to be, but a tiny part of him had been holding onto the hope that whatever was happening to his mate and friends was temporary.

He'd spent a restless night going over and over what little he knew about the situation. So far, only Storm, Nita, and Cyrus had been affected. Storm and Cyrus still remembered their mates, but nothing else about their lives. Nita, on the other hand, remembered her parents, but not her current boyfriend.

When he'd finally dozed off on the sofa, he'd had no more answers than when he'd started. Worse, he didn't even know which questions to ask.

He'd slept fitfully for a couple of hours before being awoken by the sound of Storm's shouts. Apparently, he'd forgotten how to operate the shower controls, and King had found him jumping around under the scalding hot spray like a cracked-out jackrabbit.

Once he'd gotten his mate sorted out, he'd then had to remind him that Blackhaven Manor was not a clothing-optional facility. Although Storm had been confused and a bit indignant about why he had to wear clothes, he had been amiable in allowing King to dress him.

Breakfast had been a test in patience, and more than once, King had felt like he was babysitting an emotional toddler rather than sharing a meal with a grown man. There had been a couple of entertaining moments, however. Like when Storm had forgotten the name for the utensils and had instead called them "food weapons."

As the day wore on, things only seemed to get worse. Twice, Storm got lost…in the lobby. He consistently couldn't remember the name for common items, and he seemed to have no recollection of anyone at the hotel. Not even his best friend.

"So, you really have no idea who I am?" Wearing a crisp white shirt under a glittery black jacket, Damien looked like a walking constellation.

"Nope," Storm confirmed. "You seem like a cool guy, though. For a werewolf."

"Storm!" King chastised.

His mate shrugged. "That's what he is."

Arlo didn't even attempt to hide his amusement at the situation as he laughed right from his belly. "You know, I think I like him better like this."

Damien chuckled along with him. "You're right. I guess losing his memory dislodged that giant stick up his ass."

Storm actually twisted around to stare at his backside. "I don't have anything in my ass." He turned back to the werewolf. "Is that something I used to do? It sounds uncomfortable."

King pressed both hands to his face and groaned as the other two burst into more peels of laughter.

"Have you guys met my mate?" Storm asked out of nowhere. "This is King. He's amazing. I don't know if you can tell, but he smells like dark chocolate and cinnamon. He also does this thing where he wrinkles his nose when he gets annoyed with me. It's really cute."

King groaned again as heat crept up his neck and into his cheeks. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they needed to find a solution, and fast.

When he finally dropped his hands and looked up, he was startled to discover Damien's face was nearly as red as his own. A heartbeat later, he realized it had nothing to do with embarrassment, though. The wolf was trying desperately to suppress his laughter.

And frankly, failing miserably.

"Oh, look at his blush. Isn't it adorable?" Wrapping an arm around King's waist, Storm dragged him next to his side. "It goes all the way to the tips of his ears. And he has the most perfect ears. Then again, everything about him is perfect. Sometimes, when he's thinking, he does this thing—"

Only King's hand over his mouth prevented the shifter from continuing. "I think they get it. You can stop now."

He waited for his mate's nod of agreement before slowly lowering his hand. Even then, he remained tense, afraid Storm would simply confess something else he loved about him.

Thankfully, Damien changed the subject, probing to find out how much—or little—Storm actually remembered about his life. While they spoke, King turned to Arlo. Instead of the mischievous smile he'd expected, his friend was looking at him with a pinched expression.

"So, he remembers everything about you, but nothing else?"

"Not everything," King clarified. "He knows who I am, but his memory of me seems to start when we got back to his room last night."

"But he's so…"

"Fixated?" King suggested when his friend struggled to find the right word.

"I was going to say obsessed, but yeah, that works, too."

"I don't get it, either, but I wonder if it has something to do with us being mated."

Arlo tilted his head, and a shallow valley formed between his eyes. "I guess that makes sense. How did it happen, though?"

But King was no longer engaged in the conversation because he had just spotted someone who might be able to provide some insight. "Emrys is here. Let's go talk to him."

Arlo glanced over at Damien and Storm. "Do you think it's okay to leave him alone?"

Without looking at them, Damien dipped his head and motioned with his hand for them to go. Confident his mate would be okay for the time being, King grabbed his best friend by the wrist and dragged him toward the café.

As they neared the counter, he realized Emrys wasn't alone, however. To his surprise, he found the pixie in a murmured conversation with his mate. Unlike the previous evening, Cyrus now appeared quite calm, and since he was dressed for his shift, King could only assume that meant he'd made a full recovery.

While it gave him hope that Storm would eventually regain his memories as well, he had a lot of questions for the couple.

"Hey!" Emrys tucked a lock of electric blue hair behind his ear and stepped up to the register with a radiant smile. "What can I get you gentlemen this morning?"

"I'll have another one of those iced cherry bombs," Arlo answered immediately.

King glared. They weren't there for refreshments.

"You got it." The pixie grabbed a cup from the stack on the counter and scribbled across the side of it with a marker. "And you?"

King waved him away. "Nothing for me." Not sure how to approach the subject, he decided to just dive right in and pray for the best. "Um, about what happened last night."

"I'm okay now," Cyrus assured him. "I apologize if I upset you."

"What? No. That's not what I meant." He moved to the corner of the counter to speak with the hellhound. "It's just, what exactly happened?"

"The fuck if I know." A deep growl rumbled through Cyrus' chest. "Emrys filled me in on some parts, but I have no actual memory of it."

"What do you remember?"

"We had escorted a werewolf out of the ballroom, and I was talking to some of the security guys about it because something seemed off." His obsidian eyes narrowed as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. "The next thing I remember is waking up in bed this morning."

Okay, not much to go on, but the information did spur another thought. "What was weird about the werewolf?"

"Well, we took him out because he was causing a scene with that little she-wolf from housekeeping."

"Nita?"

"Yeah, that's the one. She was crying and saying she didn't know him, but he claimed to be her boyfriend."

King bobbed his head. "Did you believe him?"

"Honestly? Yeah. He was pissed about us interfering, but otherwise, he just seemed confused."

"I heard she called out today," Emrys interjected as he and Arlo came to join them. "Apparently, she's still pretty upset about it."

King understood the mask of bewilderment he wore. It didn't make sense to him, either.

"Doesn't really sound like her, does it?"

Emrys shook his head. "Not the Nita I know."

"Well, Storm can't remember shit," Arlo announced before taking a sip of his drink. "Like, the dude doesn't even know how to tie his shoes."

While not incorrect, he probably could have been more tactful about it.

"Except King," he added. "He is big obsessed with King."

Hooking his arm around Cyrus' elbow, Emrys rested his head on his mate's shoulder and chuckled. "Sounds like this guy here. He punched the television last night because he thought the people on the screen were real."

Cyrus shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I don't remember that."

"He thought they were going to kidnap me," Emrys continued with a quiet laugh. "It was funny, but I'm glad it's over."

King wrung his hands together, dragging his thumb over the opposite palm on each pass. "Do you know how? Did you do something?"

Beside him, Arlo snorted. "Oh, they did something . Look at his neck."

Sure enough, a shiny set of punctures—the exact width of a set of fangs—practically glowed like a neon sign on the side of the pixie's neck. Beneath the new wounds, King could still make out the faint pink of his original mating mark.

King feared Emrys would be embarrassed, but he just smiled and shrugged while Cyrus pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. It was actually kind of refreshing to see such a confident couple. Still, he didn't think he would ever be so comfortable talking about his sex life in public.

"There's your answer." Swaying to the side, Arlo bumped his shoulder against King's. "Get Storm to claim you. That'll fix him."

"Maybe."

Just because it had worked for the other pair didn't mean it would work for Storm. Fuck, he didn't even know what "it" was. Besides, having sex with the guy in his current state seemed wrong. Sure, Storm had become somewhat irrational in his fascination with him, but it wasn't an accurate account of his feelings. Not really.

It was more like…

Did you slip him a love potion?

He clearly hadn't done any such thing, but his sister's assumption did trigger another thought. "Could it be magic? Like a curse or something?"

"I think that's a fair guess," Emrys agreed.

"Okay." Arlo slurped from his straw again. "Whose ass do we have to kick?"

To that, no one had an answer. Other than the fact that two of the victims worked at the hotel, none of them had anything in common. If someone had been specifically targeting Storm, why not Damien as well? And where did Cyrus and Nita fit into the scheme?

For that matter, what the hell kind of hex was this? What did the caster hope to gain by causing Storm to forget everything except King? Was it someone who wanted him out of the way? Someone jealous of his success? Had Cyrus and Nita simply been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and gotten hit with the blowback from the curse?

The more he tried to logic his way out of it, the less sense it made.

"Cyrus, do you think I can see the security footage from the ballroom last night?"

The hellhound gave him a toothy grin. "I like the way you think."

Emrys patted his mate's chest and stepped away. "Go catch bad guys. I have to get back to work."

"Same." Arlo angled away from the counter but turned back almost immediately and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Actually, can I get a large vanilla latte with an extra shot for the big guy over there?"

King rubbed his tired eyes as he fought back a yawn. "Make that two. And a matcha latte with oat milk."

"Rough night?" Cyrus asked as they waited for Emrys to fill their order.

"You have no idea."

Or maybe he did. The difference was the hellhound couldn't remember all the chaos.

Since he'd picked up the tab the previous evening, he didn't argue when Arlo offered to pay for the drinks. Then they thanked Emrys and made their way back across the lobby, where the co-stars were still emersed in their conversation.

When Storm noticed the hellhound behind him, he bared his fangs and pulled King behind him, partially blocking him from view. For the love of all things supernatural, he was too damn tired for this nonsense.

Instead of snapping, however, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that it wasn't Storm's fault. "Here, drink this." He pushed the matcha into his mate's hand. "Storm, this is our head of security, Cyrus Rathborne. I told you about him, remember?"

Storm relaxed, but only marginally. "You said he had the same problem as me."

"Right. We're going to go look at the footage from the security cameras last night. Maybe we can figure out what happened."

As if the tense encounter had never happened, Storm shrugged and gave Cyrus that movie star smile that made the whole world weak in the knees. "Sounds good. Where are we going?"

In response, Cyrus led them across the lobby to a narrow door situated beneath the grand staircase.

Maybe King watched too many movies, but the security office looked exactly as he had imagined. A square, stark room with a couple of chairs, a table, and a huge desk positioned in front of a wall of monitors. Granted, it was brighter than he'd anticipated, with ample light glowing from the fluorescent bulbs overhead.

The security system also proved to be a lot more efficient than he had seen in films. With only a few clicks of the mouse and a couple of taps to the keyboard, Cyrus pulled up the correct recordings on a separate monitor located on one of the arms of the U-shaped desk.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Storm asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen.

Since King was the only one there who hadn't been cursed, it fell to him to recall pertinent details. It was against hotel policy for the staff to take anything from the catering tables. He also knew for certain that the only thing Storm had consumed during the event was the latte he'd brought him. Therefore, he could rule out the possibility of the food or drinks being tainted.

Plus, if that had been the case, many more people would have been affected.

Cyrus swiveled his desk chair around and cleared his throat. "We should look for someone who interacted with all three of us—me, Storm, and Nita."

And that was why he was head of security. Still, they needed to narrow it down.

"Storm interacted with everyone there," King said, speaking slowly as he thought back to the evening. "Even most of the staff."

"In my experience, this kind of hex requires touch."

King chewed his bottom lip. Storm had signed a lot of stuff and taken just as many photos. He hadn't touched everyone he'd spoken to, though.

"So, Nita was the first one to start acting oddly." He pointed to the hellhound. "Then you. I didn't notice anything wrong with Storm until we got back to the room last night."

"That's good," Cyrus praised. "So, we're looking for someone we all three had some kind of physical contact with, and in that order. Nita. Me. Storm."

"Were there any witches at the event?" King asked.

"Sure." The hellhound turned back to the monitor. "Along with other magic users. I couldn't tell you who is who on the recording, though."

While disappointed by the information, King understood. With a couple of exceptions, he wouldn't recognize any of the guests out on the street. He likely wouldn't be able to discern if they were human or Otherling, let alone what designation of paranormal.

After ten minutes of staring at the screen, watching guests enter the ballroom and begin milling about, he realized what an arduous task they had ahead of them. From start to finish, they had at least three hours of footage to scour, all while keeping track of who Storm, Cyrus, and Nita had interacted with.

Another ten minutes passed before the hellhound echoed his thoughts. "This is going to take a while. If you guys have something else to do, I can take it from here."

Storm had been scheduled for an interview that morning, but Priya had decided it was probably best to keep him out of the public eye for the time being. Honestly, she had taken the news of her rising star's amnesia better than expected. At least, she had appeared outwardly calm.

As such, they didn't have anywhere to be until after lunch, but King got the sense they were more hinderance than help.

"I'm going to try to get ahold of Nita and find out if she remembers anything from last night."

Cyrus didn't take his eyes away from the monitor. "Good thinking."

"Thanks for doing this."

"Trust me. I want to know who's behind this as much as you do." Finally, the guard lifted his head and turned to face him. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something."

King thanked him again before leading his mate out of the office. "We have a few hours. What do you want to do?"

"Let's go for a walk."

Glancing through the windows on the other side of the lobby, King winced at the crowd gathered in the parking lot. "Outside? I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Come on." Storm dropped his mostly full cup into a nearby receptacle, grabbed King's hand, and began dragging him around the staircase. "We'll sneak out the back."

"Do you even know how to get there?"

"That's why I have you."

The fans gathered in hopes of catching a glimpse of their favorite stars had been restricted to the front of the hotel. If he and Storm stayed quiet and kept to the trees, it would probably be okay.

Of course, he hadn't accounted for his mate's current condition, or his unpredictable behavior. As soon as they stepped through the door that opened onto the south lawn, Storm started whooping like he'd just scored the winning touchdown at the homecoming game.

"You didn't tell me there was a lake here."

"No. We can't—Storm!"

But it was too late. The shifter took off, sprinting across the lawn and down the grassy slope to the lake at the bottom of the hill.

Objectively, King had to admit the lake was beautiful. Surrounded by a grove of trees, the sandy banks led to crystalline waters that rippled gently in the wind. The late morning sun glittered over the surface, turning something already extraordinary into absolute magic.

It was the last place they should be, though.

Resisting the urge to call for his mate, he chased after him, but Storm was bigger, faster, and he had a head start. So, by the time King reached the edge of the lake, the shifter had already stripped to his bare skin and was wading into the water.

"Storm, get out of there!" he hissed. "And put your damn clothes back on."

Of course, the asshole ignored him. "Come swim with me. The water feels amazing."

"This is not—"

An ear-piercing, feminine squeal rent the air, followed by several shouts of Storm's name. All King could do was watch as the horde of screaming fans thundered down the hillside, phones in hand. Some of them were already recording.

Fuck, he was so getting fired for this.

Well, if Priya didn't kill him first.