EREK
She said it once. And again. “Mark me.”
And I almost did.
The words landed like an arrow to the center of my chest
low. Steady. Certain.
“Mark me.”
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記
so sudden and precise it knocked the air from my lungs. Her voice was
Goddess, I wanted to. Every part of me ached for it. Erebus, my wol, was past the point of reason, snarling with need, pounding against the walls of my ribcage like a caged animal demanding release.
It wasn’t just want. It was desperation. An instinct so raw it scraped bone. The call of a mate bond that had been forged, broken, and reforged again.
She didn’t remember.
She didn’t know what she was asking.
And I couldn’t do it. Not to her.
Not until she knew everything. Not until she remembered everything.
I stood frozen, holding her gaze, drowning in it. That gaze–so familiar, so haunting. Those eyes had once looked at me in trust.
Had sparkled when I made her laugh. Had burned when she let herself love me. My body.. And now, they looked up at me with hope and trust and something new, something blooming.
And she didn’t even know who I really was.
I’d loved her for years.
Not months. Not weeks. Years. Since the moment I found her in the woods, all bloodied and broken, scent cloaked in dirt and pain, eyes wide with fear but defiant.
Since the first time I watched her shift back after a run and the moonlight caught the curves of her body. Since she challenged me, infuriated me, made me laugh when I didn’t think I could anymore.
Since she put herself between me and danger more times than I deserved. Since the day we said vows that had never been
finished.
I loved her then.
Even when I ruined everything.
Even when I carried Cassandra out of the wedding hall and left Elena standing there, devastated.
*I loved her through that too.
And now, standing inches from her, her lips parted and eyes glowing, asking me to mark her again–without the memories that had once torn us apart I was coming undone.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want this. I want you.‘
“1
I almost choked. It was the truth, raw and unfiltered, and yet-
I was the ex.
The one who hurt her.
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The one who left her.
And she didn’t know. She didn’t know any of it. Not the pain, not the betrayal, not the history.
I cupped her face between my hands, barely breathing. She was wan, alive, everything I’d ever wanted. And her lips, full and flushed and the color of ripe raspberries, quivered beneath my tou
Erebus was howling in my mind. Do it. Do it. Do it.
It would be so easy. Just one bite. Just one clajm. And she’d be mine again, truly mine. The mark would tether her, tie us together more deeply than anything else could. It would be irreversible.
But not like this.
Not when she couldn’t remember why she ever loved me to begin with. Not when she couldn’t remember the reasons she might
not.
My thumbs brushed over her cheeks, across the corners of her mouth.
“Not here,” said hoarsely. “Not like this.”
Her expression faltered. Confusion, hurt. She blinked up at me like I’d pulled away when she’d been ready to leap. Like I’d just rejected her.
I almost reached for her again.
“Hey,” I whispered, leaning in so my forehead rested against hers. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You have no idea how much I
want to.”
She swallowed, her breath catching. Her hands clutched my shirt.
“Then why not?”
I shut my eyes.
Because if you remember tomorrow, you might hate me.
Because if I mark you now, it won’t be real. It won’t be whole. It won’t be right.
Because I love you. Because I finally understand what that means.
I took a steadying breath.
“We have all the time in the world,” I murmured. “We don’t need to rush it.”
Her lips parted. Her eyes searched my face like she was trying to find something she couldn’t quite name,
I watched her. Watched her mouth curve, hesitate, like she wanted to say something.
And for a single heartbeat, I let myself hope she was about to say I remember.
Or You’re the one.
Or I forgive you.
But the words didn’t come. Just a breath. Just silence
I almost broke right then.
I wanted to scream. To tell her the truth. That I was the ex she sometimes dreamed about and didn’t understand. That I was the reason for her nightmares, her grief, her abandonment. That I was the one who let her fall.
But I couldn’t. Not after everything the doctor had said. Her memories were fragile. Triggering them too fast, too harshly, could do more harm than good. And she’d come so far. She was almost there.
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So I held the words back.
Bit down on them until my mouth tasted like blood.
Her fingers slid from my shirt, slower now, uncertain.
The ache in my chest turned to something else. Guilt, Longing. Feat. A bitter cocktail of all three. She was right in front of me And I was losing her all over again, every time she looked at me like she didn’t know I once meant everything to her.
But she also looked at me like she wanted me. Trusted me. Chose me.
This version of her–this version who saw the without the weight of the past, without the pain, the scars, the broken wedding- was falling for me all over again.
And that made it worse.
Because if she remembered everything
she might never look at me like this again.
I stared at her. Memorized her. The way her hair curled at her jaw. The pulse fluttering beneath the skin of her neck. The faint frown on her brow as she tried to piece together why I wasn’t saying yes.
I wanted to press her against the wall and kiss her until the past dissolved. I wanted to lay her down and worship every inch of her. I wanted to mark her. Make her mine. Always.
Instead, I pulled back. Gave her space.
She blinked.
“Derek?”
My name on her lips did something to me. It was a plea, a question, a tether.
I gave her a crooked smile. One I didn’t feel.
didn
“I just want it to be right,” I said softly.
She hesitated. Then nodded slowly. Bit her lip. That same lip I’d once kissed under moonlight. In firelight. In the ruins of our first love.
“Okay,”
,” she said, so quiet I barely heard her.
And I hated myself for the relief in her voice.
Like she was afraid I didn’t want her.
I reached for her hand.
“We’ll get there,” I said. “I promise.”
She looked at our hands. Then up at me.
And finally smiled.
I felt like a liar. Because the promise I gave her wasn’t one I could keep.
Not if she remembered everything.
Not if she remembered me.
But for now, in this moment, she was mine.
And that had to be enough,
For now.
