Mated by Amnesia

Chapter 5 - Awake

Still groggy, my eyes flutter open, only to slam shut again against the faint glow pressing through the curtains.

My mouth is parched, my tongue thick, like I’ve been chewing on cotton. A low groan escapes as I drag my palm across my forehead, forcing myself to try again, blinking slowly this time.

The room that comes into focus is sterile and unfamiliar. Bland curtains, closed tight. The rhythmic beep of a monitor at my side. Tubes snake between my body and the intimidating machine they’re attached to.

A hospital.

But why am I here?

I squeeze my eyes shut, searching for an answer. Pain explodes behind my temples. My stomach swoops violently, like I’m falling. Nothing. Just emptiness.

Why can’t I remember?

The machine beside me beeps faster, frantic, echoing my rising panic as I push myself upright. My arms tremble with the effort, my body weak, fragile, foreign.

The sound of footsteps makes me freeze.

The door opens. A large woman with a broad frame and sharp eyes stops in the doorway, staring.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice is flat with shock. Her mouth works silently before she glances over her shoulder and signals to someone unseen. Then she strides into the room, her gaze never leaving me, every muscle taut as though she’s preparing to flee.

“How long have you been awake?” she asks, her attention flickering toward the frantic beeping monitor.

“I just woke up.” My voice rasps, raw and unfamiliar even to me. “How long was I out?”

She hesitates, then fiddles with the machine. “How do you feel?”

“I…don’t know.” The words feel empty. Wrong. “Where am I?”

“The hospital.”

My fingers twist in the thin blanket pooled at my waist. Her answer is simple, but something about it unsettles me. The question burning in my chest escapes before I can stop it.

“Do you…do you know who I am?”

Her lips press tight, her body stiffening. “Yes.”

The air thickens. My pulse drums against my throat. I force out the question that terrifies me most.

“Could you tell me who I am?”

Her eyes widen, stunned. “You don’t remember?”

My teeth sink into my trembling lip as I shake my head. “I…can’t remember anything.”

The door cracks open again. Another woman slips in, younger, thin-faced. Her jaw drops when she sees me, mirroring the first woman’s shock.

“She’s awake!” the younger one breathes.

“Yes, she is,” the older replies briskly. She turns to the girl. “Get her water and check her vitals. I need to inform Alpha Harrison.”

Her words make the younger woman blanch, eyes darting nervously back to me before she hurries to fetch a cup.

That swooping sensation in my gut sharpens into dread. My palms sweat. Every instinct screams at me to run.

Something is wrong here.

I don’t belong here.

The younger nurse offers me the water with shaking hands. I gulp it down greedily, but the unease only intensifies. She checks my vitals, stammering questions, cheeks flushed pink as if embarrassed by my scrutiny.

“Besides not knowing who I am, or why I’m here, I feel fine,” I mutter, yanking the blanket away.

The flimsy white gown falls above my knees, baring pale, frail legs I hardly recognize.

“I want to get up. I don’t want to be here.”

The girl panics. “You can’t leave! Not yet!”

“Why not?” My voice rises. “Why can’t I?”

We grapple clumsily over the blanket, tension snapping in the air—

Until a low throat-clear stills us both.

We turn.

A man fills the doorway, and for a moment, the air leaves my lungs.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Blond waves brushing just above his ears. The shadows cling to his sharp jaw, his lips curved in a smile that’s both disarming and unsettling. His eyes, dark, fathomless, lock onto mine with a weight that makes me forget how to breathe.

He strides toward the bed with easy confidence, each step measured, commanding. The room feels smaller as he looms closer.

Then his hand covers mine where it rests against the sheets, warm, steady, claiming. My pulse stutters at the contact, a traitorous heat rippling beneath my skin.

“I’ve been so worried about you, my love.”

My heart kicks painfully against my ribs. My love?

I stare at him, shaking my head. “Who are you?”

For the first time, something cracks in his expression. A sigh, soft but heavy. He leans closer, his lips brushing my ear like a confession.

“It’s me, Jo. Mateo…your mate."

The word burns through me, heat curling in my stomach, my skin tingling as if set alight.

I don’t know this man. I can’t.



So why does part of me feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear him say that?