Sydney
Sarah doesn’t turn from the window. The sunrise hasn’t reached us yet, not fully, but the first inklings of morning creep through the curtains. Frost hugs the glass panes. It will be another frigid day, colder than the last. The faint light ghosts over her skin, illuminating her face in silver.
“Sarah?” I say into the soft light.
She turns her head slightly but doesn’t look at me. I notice two pieces of paper on my desk, one of them folded in half with Blake’s name written neatly across it.
My heart falls into my stomach as my gaze slides to the second piece, a letter addressed to me.
The truth hits me like a knife to the heart. There’s only one reason she’d write her son a letter.
“You’re leaving?”
“It’s best for both of you that I’m not here.” She turns ever so slightly so her face catches the light. Dried tears stain her skin, but her expression is like ice.
“Is he my son?” I firmly repeat, edging a step toward her.
Her eyes are nearly black, drained of all hints of that lavender I dream of. “Will you take care of him?”
“We’re not having that conversation. You are not leaving, Sarah.”
“You don’t understand–”
“I was drunk that night, the night of the ball at the temple. Severely, unapologetically drunk.” I close the distance between the door and my desk, laying my hands flat against its surface. I hold her gaze as guilt sweeps through me. “I couldn’t remember your name, Sarah. I looked for you, though. For months–”
“I never told you my name.” There’s no emotion behind her words. They’re flat, maybe slightly sad. But she’s confirmed what I needed to know. She is the mystery woman I’ve been looking for. The same woman I vowed I’d never find, not after what I witnessed in Eastonia this summer.
I straighten up at her tone, and she tilts her chin ever so slightly.
“Is he mine?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Are you sure?”
“I was a virgin,” she says, her voice cracking, and I come undone.
I feel like I need to sit down but can’t bring myself to back away from her. The desk is the only thing keeping me from grabbing her and asking what the fuck is going on.
“Why didn’t you try to tell me you were pregnant?”
“Sydney, I couldn’t have–”
“Why not?” Anger rising, I take a step away from the desk. “I would have made it right!”
“You couldn’t have done–”
“I would have marriedyou. I would have made you my Luna. Instead, you nearly froze to death–both of you!”
“Sydney, you don’t understand–”
“Then make me understand! Why didn’t you tell me? Did you know I was the father, or is that something you figured out recently?”
I rack my brain for details of that night but come up empty. The memory of her and I together after the ball is so blurry I still can’t tell for certain it was her.
But kissing her, and being inside of her once again, it’s clear.
There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind that the woman I’ve been pining for for months is standing right in front of me now but as out of reach as ever.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever–I’ve ever been with,” she says like she’s short of breath. Her eyes glaze with tears, but her icy expression doesn’t crack. “And I wasn’t drunk that night. I remember everything.”
“So you knew who I was, yet, you didn’t tell me? That day, in your shop, when I came in… you knew then. You were pregnant, Sarah. Pregnant with my son!”
“You’re an Alpha,” she whispers, pain lacing each word. “I think you forget that differences between us in that regard–”
“Do you think I give a fuck about rank?” I snarl, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. “Do you know how long I looked for you? I asked around, Sarah. I went back to the temple hoping they had video footage of us together so I could find you again, and it had nothing to do with the chance that I might have produced a child with you. Do you understand? I was desperate to find you because that night–”
“Don’t say it,” she pleads, tears in her eyes.
Her expression guts me. I try to step around the desk, but she finally moves. She steps away from me, and the act slices through my chest like a heated blade.
“Don’t. You need to stay away from me,” she says, her voice trembling.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I try to tell her. “Why are you crying? Why are you writing notes–” I pick up the letter addressed to me without reading it, waving it between us. “Did I do something to make you believe you’re not wanted here?”
“No.”
“Did you believe I’d cast you out in the street when I found out that Blake is mine? He has my eyes, Sarah.”
“I know he does.” Her voice is so small and broken, it makes my heart skip a beat. “I was hoping he would.”
I know I should be angry. I should be furious. She lied. She’s been living here, in my home, lying to my face every day.
But something is wrong. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she is… afraid.
“You’re not leaving,” I say, heaving a breath as I shake my head. “I’m not letting you leave. You can think whatever you want of me. You can hate me, but you’re not leaving this house. I am going to take care of you both. Blake is my son, therefore my heir, and you are his mother–”
“You don’t understand. I have to go. It’s better. Trust me. It’s better he stays here, and I leave, and you forget me, okay?”
“Forget you?” I step toward her, shaking my head. “I could never–”
“You were supposed to!” Something breaks in her tone. A single fracture in the wall of ice she’s hiding behind. “You were supposed to forget everything that happened between us that night. You were supposed to wake up alone, thinking you’d just stumbled home from the ball. I never–” She squeezes her eyes shut while my mind reels over what she’s trying to say.
“Did you drug me?”
“No!” she shouts, more tears sliding free. “Of course not!”
“Then what are you saying? You’re upset I remembered you? That I wasn’t drunk enough to forget you?”
“I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of Blake. Please, Sydney. You’re all he has now.”
“Sarah, this is ridiculous–”
“Promise me,” she says with so much despair it gives me pause.
I look her up and down then settle on her eyes again. “I’m not making that promise because I don’t need to. You’re staying. That is our son. We can be a family. We area family.”
“You didn’t want any of this. I know how you feel about finding your mate and having a family and I am so, so sorry that I put you in this position–”
“Is that what this is about? Sarah, you have to understand that–that I–” I trip over my words, trying to form some kind of rationale behind my decision. “I made that decision to try to keep myself safe, to keep my mate safe, but this changes everything–”
“You were right, though,” she says timidly. She backs away again when I try to close the distance between us. She holds her hands out in surrender, and she’s holding something in the palm of her hand.
The necklace I found at Sasha’s grave.
Time stands still for a split second then crashes all around me.
I meet her gaze.
“You were right, Sydney. It’s too dangerous. You can’t be with me, and I can’t keep Blake. It was selfish to believe that I could have this. That I could have this with you like fate intended, but I was wrong. That night after the ball was selfish. I had to do what I had to do to keep you safe.”
“Sarah–”
“My name isn’t Sarah.”
Her eyes hold mine, unblinking. I watch them change color, going from near black to the bright violet.
And then a pain like no other erupts in my left temple. I grip the desk, crying out as my vision goes black and then explodes with color.
It’s like I’m watching a movie, seeing scenes play out from a distance. Sarah at a vanity looking at her reflection as she does her makeup while other women laugh and talk in the background about the ball. She’s wearing that pink dress I remember, but her eyes are sad as she puts on mascara. Someone comes up to her, their face blurry, and tells her to smile, that they’re leaving soon.
Then she’s at the ball, and Ryan taps her on the shoulder. He leans in, introducing himself, saying his brother is too shy to ask her to dance, but he wants to. She sees me, and her heart nearly stops when I turn from the conversation I’m having and meet her gaze. I see that moment in crystal clarity. A memory I was robbed of, but is now so clear I can feel the heat in the ballroom and the way my heart was racing when her eyes met mine.
My face says it all. I think she’s stunning. She’s perfect. I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.
Her heart is pounding when I come over and ask if she’s enjoying the party.
But then the scene cuts out, and she’s sitting in a coffee shop scrolling through her phone. It’s raining, and the TV in the corner is playing the news. It’s a few days after the attack during that same ball. A man in a blue silk mask flashes on the screen with a reward for sightings or information about him.
Gabriel. I feel Sarah’s sudden fear. I feel her panic as she rises from her chair and hurries to her apartment, locking herself inside before sliding to the floor and curling into a ball.
Then her memories flash, turning over like pages in a book. Sarah working in her shop, counting her dwindling funds. Sarah pacing in her apartment, peeking through the blinds. A pregnancy test in her hands as she sinks to the ground, wide eyed and scared.
I watch her from a distance as she speaks with the woman who was meant to adopt Blake. She tells Sarah she can’t anymore; she changed her mind, and Sarah is desperate now.
I watch the moment I healed her finger through her own eyes. Her grief is immense when I ask if we’ve met before, and she tells me no. Watching me leave her shop tears her apart, and she sinks to the floor and cries the very moment I shut the door behind me.
The scene flips to another, and another, and then Sarah is screaming in pain, her face blood red and eyes full of tears as she brings Blake into the world, surrounded by strangers.
She can’t even look at him when he’s placed in her arms. He was born into danger, and she feels horrible about it. She doesn’t know what to do. She has no one to ask for help. No one who knows the truth about her situation, at least.
But then I’m standing in a familiar place. I can feel the warm sea air touching my cheeks.
“You can never go back. You can never talk about your past, or where you came from. Do you understand?”
An old woman crouches beside a girl of ten wearing a pink dress, her icy blonde hair braided down her back. Sarah, as a child, standing with Mrs. Havisfield in front of that gnarled tree on Mononoke Island.
“He has to believe you’re dead, child. I know you don’t understand. You’re a very special girl, but no one can know that.”
Mrs. Havisfield finishes carving the name Sasha on the flat rock and stands, wiping her hands on her dress.
“You’re Sarah now. Sasha is dead, all right? She is dead, and you are free.”
They turn, and Sarah drops the necklace in the grass.
The vision fades slowly, turning dark and fragmented, but Sarah’s screams echo through my ears. I feel her pain like it’s my own. I hear a cackling, child's laugh. I hear metal gears turning and can taste a whisper of magic in the air, filling my mouth with something metallic.
Sarah is pleading for mercy as a knife slices her open, again and again.
“You are mine, Sasha. Your power was destined for me to use. My slave. My bride. You can never leave me.”
Sasha screams again as Gabriel bites down on her arm, sucking her powers dry.
Marking her.
I can’t breathe as her memories erupt through my head. Memories of a father’s love and desperation as he passes her to a total stranger to help her escape across the border of Eastonia. She knows she’ll never see him again. She knows Gabriel will likely kill him for this.
But then I’m somewhere… soft. Ryan’s guest room fades into view. Sarah is writhing beneath me, her nails digging into my sides as I fuck her into the mattress slowly, tenderly. This is my memory. A memory stolen from me, I realize, as I feel the mate bond click into place.
And she feels it too. She opens her eyes, her lips parted, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
I kiss it away.
My mate.
I found her. We found each other.
And I lie next to her until the early hours of the morning stroking her arm with my fingertips while I fall asleep.
But just as I close my eyes, she moves. She kisses me again, slow and tender, her tears falling onto my face as she whispers, “I am so sorry,” again, and again, her fingertips tracing the planes of my face like she’s memorizing it.
And then it goes black as her powers erupt, stealing any memory of her from my mind.
Reality crashes back to me. I’m nearly bent over my desk in pain, but I look up at Sarah, who’s backed against the bookshelf in my office, her cheeks wet with tears and face twisted in despair.
But I feel the bond between us like it’s always been there. Her scent is different. She smells like fresh snow in a silent forest. She’s changed, becoming even more beautiful than before. Her features are clearer, if that’s possible.
It’s like she put up a ward around herself, some kind of magical glamor, so I couldn’t sense our mate bond.
“Sarah,” I plead, tears streaming down my face.
She shakes her head.
“Please,” she cries, her voice breaking. “Take care of him.” And in a flash of light, she disappears.