The Luna He Forgot

Chapter Two — Then Don't

My husband was unconscious on our bedroom floor, and his mother wanted to make tea.

That should have been my first clue that the morning wasn't going to improve.

"Tea?" I stared at her.

"Dr. Harris is on his way."

"And that means we need tea?"

"It means standing over Callan isn't going to make him wake up any faster."

"I wasn't planning to stand over him. I was thinking more along the lines of figuring out why your son has apparently had me deleted from his brain."

Elena's lips tightened.

"And what exactly do you expect me to do about that?"

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

Interesting.

I'd known Elena Blackwood for eight years. She was not an easy woman, but we'd learned each other.

She thought I used too much garlic.

I thought she needed to learn that salt was not a seasoning.

She thought I let the pack children get away with murder.

I thought children were supposed to get dirty and loud and occasionally break things.

She thought Christmas decorations should be elegant.

I thought if you couldn't see your house from space, you weren't trying hard enough.

We disagreed.

We annoyed each other.

We also loved each other.

At least I'd thought we did.

But I'd never seen her look at me the way she was looking at me now.

Carefully.

Like every word mattered.

Like mine might matter more.

"Who gave you the cordial?"

She sighed.

"Mara."

"It's a simple question."

"And I told you I don't remember."

"You're lying."

Her chin lifted.

There she was.

Elena Blackwood could turn a raised chin into a declaration of war.

"You are frightened and understandably upset. I will not hold your tone against you."

"My tone?"

"Yes."

"My husband woke up and forgot eight years of his life with me, his wolf apparently remembers me, he just passed out on our floor, and you are worried about my tone?"

"Lower your voice."

"No."

Callan groaned.

We both shut up.

I dropped beside him.

"Callan?"

His eyelids fluttered.

"Can you hear me?"

His eyes opened.

Brown.

Not gold.

Damn it.

He stared at me for half a second before confusion returned.

"Why am I on the floor?"

"Because apparently today wasn't weird enough."

He tried to sit up.

I put a hand against his shoulder.

"Slowly."

His body stiffened beneath my palm.

I removed it.

That tiny movement hurt more than it had any right to.

"Sorry."

He looked at me.

Something passed over his face.

Guilt, maybe.

Which was ridiculous.

He hadn't done anything wrong.

Not yet.

"What happened?"

"You passed out."

"I don't pass out."

"Congratulations on your first time."

"Mara."

There it was again.

My name spoken like he'd only recently learned it.

I hated it.

"Your wolf came forward."

His expression changed.

"What?"

"Silas."

"I know my wolf's name."

"Well, we're batting about fifty percent on names this morning, so I'm covering my bases."

His mouth almost moved.

Almost.

Then he looked at his mother.

"Is she always like this?"

Elena's eyes flicked to me.

"Usually worse."

I should have laughed.

Normally I would have.

Instead, something inside me cracked just a little.

Because that was us.

That was normal.

Elena complaining about me. Me complaining about her. Callan stuck between us pretending he hated it while secretly enjoying every second.

Except Callan didn't know that.

He didn't know us.

He looked between us like he was trying to understand a joke everyone else had heard before.

A knock sounded downstairs.

Elena straightened.

"That will be Harris."

"I'll get him."

"No."

The word came too quickly.

I looked at her.

She recovered just as quickly.

"Stay with Callan."

"I think Callan would rather I didn't."

His face tightened.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

I walked out before either of them could answer.

I made it halfway down the stairs before Nyla stirred.

Wrong.

She hadn't spoken clearly since Callan woke up.

I stopped.

"What?"

Nothing.

"Nyla."

A feeling pushed through me.

Unease.

Then anger.

Not mine.

Hers.

"Very helpful."

Our front door opened before I reached it.

Dr. Harris had apparently decided knocking was optional.

He'd been our pack physician since before Callan was born, which meant he was approximately four hundred years old and had absolutely no respect for privacy.

He carried a black medical bag that looked like it belonged in a museum.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning to you too."

"Is he conscious?"

"Yes."

"Vomiting?"

"No."

"Seizure?"

"No."

"Shifted?"

"Not completely."

That stopped him.

"What does that mean?"

"Silas came forward."

"His eyes?"

"And voice."

Harris stared at me.

"Wolves don't speak through their human unless they're fighting for control."

"Great. Add that to today's list."

He started up the stairs.

I followed.

"There's something else."

"What?"

"He doesn't remember me."

Harris stopped so abruptly I nearly walked into him.

"Explain."

"He remembers everyone. Everything, as far as we can tell. He knows Elena, Sarah, Marcus, his father. He remembers pack events I attended. He remembers our house. He remembers being Alpha."

"But not you."

"Nothing."

Harris studied my face.

"Does he remember meeting you?"

"No."

"Your mating?"

"No."

"Wedding?"

"No."

"Your miscarriage?"

My breath caught.

I hated that word.

Even after five years.

Especially when someone said it without warning.

"No."

Harris's expression softened.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

It wasn't.

But there were bigger problems.

"He remembers things that happened after we met. I'm just not in the memories."

Harris went very still.

"That's different."

"Different from what?"

"Memory loss."

Finally.

Someone else understood.

"I know."

We continued upstairs.

Callan had moved to the bed.

Elena stood near the window.

She didn't look at me when we entered.

Interesting again.

Harris examined Callan for nearly forty minutes.

Blood pressure.

Pupils.

Reflexes.

Questions.

A lot of questions.

Callan knew the current Alpha of every neighboring territory.

He knew his bank accounts.

He knew the names of all nine members of the council.

He knew who'd won the last three territorial challenges.

He remembered his first shift.

His father's funeral.

Sarah's wedding.

The birth of his nephews.

Then Harris asked, "When did you meet Mara?"

Callan stared at him.

"I didn't."

Harris leaned back.

"You did."

"I understand what everyone is telling me."

"I'm not asking what you're being told. I'm asking what you remember."

"Nothing."

"Have you ever seen her before this morning?"

"No."

"Do you recognize her scent?"

Callan hesitated.

"No."

That one hurt.

Harris looked at me.

"Bond?"

"I feel something."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Can you reach him through it?"

"No."

Callan's gaze moved between us.

"What does that mean?"

Harris ignored him.

"Can you feel his emotions?"

"I thought I could earlier. Now I'm not sure."

"Try."

I closed my eyes.

I'd done this thousands of times without thinking.

Callan was always there.

Not his thoughts.

The bond didn't work like that.

It was more like standing on the other side of a wall and knowing someone was in the room.

Happy.

Angry.

Afraid.

Horny.

Callan was particularly good at communicating that last one.

I reached for him.

Nothing.

I pushed deeper.

There.

Something.

Faint.

I followed it.

For one second, warmth bloomed beneath my ribs.

Then pain ripped through my chest.

I gasped.

My eyes flew open.

Callan was on his feet.

"What happened?"

I pressed my palm against my sternum.

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing."

"I'm fine."

"Mara."

"I'm fine."

He took one step toward me.

Stopped.

Again.

Always stopping.

Harris watched us both.

"Did you feel that?"

Callan shook his head.

"What was I supposed to feel?"

Harris didn't answer.

I did.

"Me."

Silence.

Callan looked away first.

Harris packed his instruments.

"I want blood."

"Take it," Callan said.

"From both of you."

"Why her?"

"Because I'm the doctor and you're the patient."

"She's not the patient."

Harris glanced at me.

"I'm not sure about that."

Perfect.

By nine thirty in the morning, my husband didn't know me and I'd become a medical mystery.

Mondays were usually worse.

Harris took enough blood from both of us to satisfy a vampire and left with instructions that Callan wasn't to shift until he returned.

That went over well.

"I'm Alpha."

"And I'm your doctor."

"I have patrol."

"Marcus has patrol."

"I have council at noon."

"Cancel it."

"I don't cancel council."

"You do if you don't want your wolf taking control and running naked through the territory."

Callan glared at him.

Harris smiled.

"I delivered you, Callan. Your intimidation stopped working on me when I saw you pee on your own face."

I covered my mouth.

Callan stared at him.

Elena sighed.

Harris left looking entirely too pleased with himself.

For a few minutes, nobody spoke.

Then Callan said, "I need to talk to Mara alone."

Elena looked at me.

"No."

Callan frowned.

"Mom."

"You're not well."

"I'm not dying."

"We don't know what's wrong."

"Exactly. And whatever it is, Mara and I need to discuss some things."

My stomach dropped.

I knew that tone.

Alpha Callan.

Calm.

Controlled.

Decisive.

I'd watched him use it in negotiations for years.

I just never expected him to use it on me.

"It's fine," I said.

Elena hesitated.

"Go."

She left.

The door closed.

Callan and I were alone.

My husband sat across from me like I was a problem he needed to solve.

"I don't know how to do this."

"That's reassuring."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

"I don't think you do."

"Then explain it to me."

He rubbed his hands over his face.

"When I woke up this morning, there was a woman in my bed."

I flinched.

He saw it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

"I'm trying to explain."

"Then explain."

"Everyone tells me you're my wife."

"I am."

"My mate."

"Yes."

"My Luna."

"Yes."

"And I look around this room and there's proof everywhere."

"Callan—"

"But I don't feel it."

That shut me up.

"I don't know you, Mara."

"I know."

"No, you know the words. I don't think you understand what that actually feels like."

Something hot rose in my chest.

"You think I don't understand?"

"That's not what I meant."

"You woke up next to a stranger. I woke up next to my husband."

His jaw tightened.

"And somehow I'm the stranger."

He looked away.

Good.

Let that hurt.

I was tired of being the only one bleeding.

"I need time," he said.

"For what?"

"To understand what's happening."

"Fine."

"And until we do—"

He stopped.

There it was.

The thing he didn't want to say.

"Until we do what?"

"I think you should stay somewhere else."

I stared at him.

He immediately continued.

"Not leave the territory. Just the house."

I laughed.

I couldn't help it.

"You're kicking me out?"

"No."

"It sounds suspiciously like you're kicking me out."

"This is my home."

The second the words left his mouth, his face changed.

Too late.

I stood.

"Mara."

"Your home."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I meant that this is the only place that feels familiar to me right now."

"And you don't want the unfamiliar woman in it."

"I didn't say that."

"You really need to stop telling me what you didn't say."

He stood too.

"You're twisting everything."

"No. I'm hearing it."

"I woke up this morning and found out eight years of my life aren't what I remember."

"Imagine how I feel."

"I am trying!"

"No, Callan. You're trying to make yourself comfortable."

His eyes flashed.

"That's not fair."

"Probably not."

That stopped him.

I nodded.

"It's not fair. None of this is fair. You didn't choose to forget me."

His shoulders loosened slightly.

"And I didn't choose to be forgotten."

"Mara."

"So you want space?"

"I think that's best."

"For who?"

He didn't answer.

Exactly.

I walked to the closet.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you space."

"I didn't mean right now."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Tomorrow? Thursday? Should I check your calendar?"

"Mara, stop."

I pulled out a suitcase.

His suitcase, actually.

Mine was in the attic.

I threw it onto the bed.

Callan stared at it.

"You don't need to pack."

"Well, I'm not going to wander around the territory naked."

"You know what I mean."

"I really don't."

I went into the closet.

Jeans.

Sweaters.

Underwear.

Shoes.

I had no idea how long I was leaving.

I hated that.

I hated packing without a plan.

I hated not knowing where I was going.

Mostly, I hated that Callan stood there watching me put my life into a suitcase and didn't stop me.

I came out carrying an armful of clothes.

His eyes dropped to my left hand.

My ring.

"Did I pick that?"

I looked down.

Three diamonds.

Old-fashioned.

Beautiful.

"Your grandmother's."

His expression changed.

"My grandmother's ring?"

"You gave it to me the night you asked me to marry you."

"I don't remember."

"I know."

I put the clothes into the suitcase.

"She loved you?"

I froze.

"What?"

"My grandmother."

"Yes."

"She was alive when we met?"

"For almost a year."

His eyes searched my face.

"What did she call you?"

I swallowed.

"Trouble."

He smiled.

A real smile.

Small.

Unconscious.

Exactly his.

"That sounds like her."

For one stupid second, hope rose inside me.

Then he looked at the suitcase.

And it died again.

I zipped it.

"Where will you go?"

"The cottage."

His eyebrows pulled together.

"What cottage?"

"West boundary."

"We don't have a cottage on the west boundary."

"Yes, we do."

"No."

"You bought it four years ago."

"Why?"

"For me."

He stared at me.

I lifted the suitcase.

"Apparently you used to like me."

He reached for it automatically.

I pulled it away.

"I've got it."

"Mara."

"What?"

"I don't want you to think I'm rejecting you."

I went still.

The word hung between us.

Rejecting.

For wolves, it wasn't casual.

A rejection wasn't a breakup.

It wasn't divorce.

It was tearing apart something the Moon Goddess herself had supposedly chosen.

Painful.

Permanent.

Sometimes dangerous.

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then don't."

His brow furrowed.

"Don't what?"

"Reject me."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good."

"But we need to discuss the bond."

"Not today."

"I'm Alpha. You're Luna. If the bond isn't functioning—"

"I said not today."

"This affects the entire pack."

Of course it did.

Everything always affected the pack.

Our marriage.

Our fights.

Our fertility.

My miscarriage.

Every private piece of our life somehow became pack business because Callan was Alpha and I was Luna.

Suddenly I was exhausted.

"Then tell them I'm taking a few days away."

"They'll ask why."

"You're Alpha. Lie."

His mouth twitched again.

I hated that I noticed.

I picked up my bag.

"Mara."

I reached the door.

"What?"

"If this doesn't come back..."

He didn't finish.

He didn't need to.

I turned around.

"If what doesn't come back?"

"My memory."

I waited.

He looked at our wedding photograph.

Then at me.

"We can't stay like this forever."

There it was.

Not a rejection.

Not yet.

But I could see the road leading toward it.

I should have cried.

I should have begged him to give it time.

Maybe another Luna would have reminded him of their vows. Their mating. The eight years they'd spent building a life.

Maybe she would have fought for him.

I was too tired to fight with a man who couldn't remember why I was worth fighting for.

"Then don't."

His eyes met mine.

"What?"

"Stay like this forever."

"Mara, that's not what I meant."

"I know exactly what you meant."

I opened the door.

Elena stood on the other side.

She stepped back.

Her eyes dropped to my suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"No."

Callan came up behind me.

"Mom."

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing."

I laughed.

"Apparently I'm moving to the cottage."

Elena's face changed.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

Fear.

Again.

"You can't."

Callan frowned.

"Why not?"

She ignored him.

"Mara, you need to stay here."

"Funny. Your son disagrees."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it."

Her eyes moved to Callan.

Back to me.

"You can't leave the main house."

Every instinct I had sharpened.

"Why?"

"I just think with everything happening—"

"No."

"Mara."

"You didn't say you don't think I should leave. You said I can't."

Elena's face went pale.

Behind me, Callan went very still.

"Mom?"

She said nothing.

Nyla rose beneath my skin.

Wrong.

This time the word was clear.

I stepped closer to Elena.

"Why can't I leave?"

Her lips parted.

Before she could answer, a scream tore through the house.

Not human.

Wolf.

Then another.

And another.

From outside.

Callan moved first.

He ran for the stairs.

I followed.

We reached the front door together.

The moment Callan pulled it open, the sound hit us.

Howling.

Dozens of wolves.

Maybe more.

Across the territory.

One after another, voices joined until the entire valley seemed to shake with them.

Callan stared toward the tree line.

"What the hell is happening?"

I didn't know.

Then I stepped onto the porch.

The howling stopped.

Every single wolf.

At once.

Silence rolled across the property.

Callan slowly turned toward me.

So did Elena.

Nyla pressed forward beneath my skin.

And somewhere far beyond the house, too distant for human ears but not for mine, a wolf lowered itself to the ground.

Then another.

And another.

I couldn't see them.

I didn't need to.

Somehow, impossibly, I knew exactly what they were doing.

They were bowing.