Chapter 40: Memories raise
1421 Words
Moving closer to a naked man should have terrified me.
It didn’t.
Instead, my mind betrayed me with something small and sharp and loud—
a plate slipping from someone’s fingers.
The crack of porcelain against my hand.
The pain that shot through my body from the impact.
The way the sound echoed longer than it should have.
The image looped again and again, like my body was trying to warn me of something my heart couldn’t yet name.
Before I could speak, before fear could catch up to thought, Dominic moved—not rushed, not rough. Purposeful. Certain. As if he already knew the answer my lips couldn’t form.
He lifted me easily, like I weighed nothing, like I was precious instead of fragile. The morning air brushed my skin, warm and clean, smelling of pine and damp earth and distant water. Wisconsin mornings carried a quiet that felt older than pain—cars passing low, wind rolling through tall trees, the kind of stillness that wrapped around you instead of pressing in.
Dominic shifted beneath me, bones snapping and reshaping with a sound that should have scared me—but didn’t. When he lowered himself, golden fur warm beneath my palms, I felt something settle in my chest.
Safe.
He waited until I was steady, until my hands instinctively found purchase in his thick fur, until my breathing matched the slow, grounded rhythm of his own. Only then did he rise, carrying me into the forest, away from walls and lies and broken dishes.
The land opened around us—rolling trees, soft moss, the faint glimmer of the sun rays catching on leaves. Somewhere nearby, a lake breathed quietly against its shore. Somewhere far away, the world that hurt me no longer had teeth.
As Dominic ran, careful and sure, I pressed my cheek against the warmth of him and let my eyes close.
For the first time in a long while, the plate stopped shattering in my mind.
All that remained was the sound of the day…
and the steady certainty that I wasn’t alone anymore.
Holding on, I wasn’t aware of where Dominic was taking me on the morning of what was supposed to be my wedding.
The word wedding felt wrong now—heavy and foreign—like it belonged to someone else’s life. I knew, deep in my bones, that I didn’t want to marry Mario. That truth was clear.
Everything else in my head, however, was tangled and loud and unreliable.
I wondered what was wrong with me.
Why my thoughts slipped through my fingers.
Why my heart seemed to recognize things my mind refused to explain.
Dominic slowed as the trees thinned, the land opening into rolling hills and tall pines dusted with morning fog. The air smelled of dew and earth and pine resin—clean, grounding. Wisconsin mornings carried a quiet strength, the kind that didn’t demand anything from you. It simply existed.
That’s when I saw it.
A mansion rose ahead of us, old stone and warm wood, wrapped in ivy and surrounded by towering trees. It didn’t feel intimidating. It felt… familiar. Like a place I had once known. Like something I had lost and was only now remembering.
Dominic’s wolf padded forward, steady and sure, until he stopped near the entrance. I felt his body tense beneath me—and then the shift began.
The snap of bone made fear spike through me. Instinct took over. I let go.
I didn’t hit the ground.
Strong arms caught me mid-fall, holding me securely against a broad chest. I looked up into unfamiliar green eyes framed by curly light brown hair. He was tall, muscular—clearly powerful—but my body didn’t react to him the way it had to Dominic.
There was no pull.
No warmth.
No knowing.
He set me down gently, respectfully, and stepped back.
My attention snapped immediately to Dominic.
He stood before me now in a robe, his skin still warm from the shift, his presence grounding in a way nothing else was. When his eyes met mine, relief crossed his face so openly it stole my breath.
He crossed the space between us and wrapped me in his arms.
The hug wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t rushed. It was the kind of embrace meant to anchor someone who felt like they were drifting. His warmth seeped into me, his scent calming something deep inside my chest. I felt loved. Protected. Peaceful.
Like I had finally stopped holding my breath.
Dominic lifted his head and spoke, his voice calm but carrying authority—not just to me, but to everyone gathered around us.
“Let’s all get comfortable. At eight tonight, we’ll meet in the office building of the apartment complex. There’s much to discuss as a pack. But for now, everyone should know—”
He looked down at me, his thumb brushing reassuringly over my shoulder.
“—their Luna is back home.”
The word hit me harder than anything else had.
Their Luna.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my heart racing, confusion and warmth colliding inside me.
What did he mean…
their Luna?
And why did the word home suddenly feel like it belonged to me?
Everyone but Dominic, the man who had caught me when I fell, and three others—two of them with small children—stayed behind. The rest quietly dispersed, giving us space as if they understood something I didn’t yet.
We walked into the house together.
The moment I crossed the threshold, Dominic leaned closer and spoke softly, as if afraid to startle me.
“How are you feeling, Bunny? Is there anything you can remember? Do you remember me?”
I didn’t answer him.
Not because I didn’t want to—but because the house stole the air from my lungs.
It looked exactly like the dreams I’d been having for weeks. The warm wooden beams, the large tv with bed sofa, the soft light pouring in through wide windows framed by tall Wisconsin pines—it all felt known. Familiar in a way that hurt.
The realization made my head spin.
Something tugged at my memory, hard enough to make the room tilt. I swayed, dizziness washing over me, until I felt a spark—warm, grounding—when Dominic’s hands found my shoulders.
He pulled me into his chest instantly.
His grip was protective, almost desperate, and I felt his heart racing against mine. He was worried. Deeply worried. And even though I couldn’t remember why, I felt it. I felt everything—his fear, his relief, his love—even if my mind refused to catch up.
I felt out of place in my own body.
I wanted to change, to feel like myself again, but I didn’t even know if there were clothes here that would fit me—if this place truly belonged to me the way my heart insisted it did.
That’s when an older woman stepped forward.
She had Dominic’s eyes. The same strength in her posture, softened by warmth and patience. When she spoke, her voice was gentle, maternal.
“Thumper, sweetheart… I’m Dominic’s mother. Would you feel safer talking to me?”
Her kindness wrapped around me, but something inside me resisted. I wanted answers—but I wanted them from him. From the man whose touch quieted the noise in my head.
I looked up at Dominic, searching his face, and asked the question that had been burning in my chest.
“Everything feels familiar, but I can’t remember. Why does it feel like this? Why does it feel like I’ve been here before? Where are we?”
He exhaled heavily, like the weight of the truth sat on his lungs.
“We’re in my house,” he said slowly. Then softer, steadier, “and yours.”
My breath caught.
“You moved in with me,” he continued. “You told me you were living in a tent. I can explain everything, Bunny—I promise. But my mom is gentler than I am when it comes to these things.”
Bunny? Where hav I heard that before?
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, grounding me again.
“Would you like to change first? Maybe eat something?”
There was no pressure in his voice. No demand. Just care.
And somehow, even without my memories, I knew one thing with certainty—
He was telling me the truth.
- Writer
