Memory of Love

by J. J. Keller

  That woman, Skylar—lying spread-eagled on the sofa softly breathing—could end his life. Why had his heart taken to her? He’d willingly sacrifice everything to help her. Familiarity niggled in the back of his mind. Could his thoughts have been altered? How? When? Most importantly, by what? His beautiful lady? Did she intend to end his existence? No, she was good, an innocent.

  They hadn’t entered any more stores. Obviously, she wasn’t bashful, but her open friendliness had him on edge. He preferred to keep his privacy, not invite outsiders to nose around.

  Her height and perfect angular bone structure would stand out and be identifiable in a crowd. Despite looking into every face, no signs of recognition sprung to their countenance. They’d passed strangers in cars and on the sidewalks, giving short comments in response to his question about recognition. But she’d found none and no comfort, only more frustration. He wanted to be near her, yet a niggling alarm deep inside warned him to get rid of her.

  In all probability, she’d been awake for forty-eight hours, and half that time she’d spent in a noisy hospital. Logically she’d collapsed the moment they’d entered the house. Currently, he stood on his deck, back pressed against the warm wood, and arms braced on the railing staring at her.

  Tomorrow, a warm sunny day was predicted. He would take her back to the woods. Maybe something would spur her to remember. The forest wouldn’t be as intimidating with rays sparkling off the plants and birds singing. The memories of the violence would be painful for her. She’d need solace, and he’d provide her with tender care. Dishonorable ex-Marine, David Wilson, and his cronies had attacked her.

  Pippa Wilson-Vanguard was his friend and neighbor. Aidan didn’t want to be the one to bring her brother to the law, but he would if they located him in the woods. Granted, he’d only encountered two unstable yokels, but they were well versed in warfare tactics, even if overpowered by a wolf. Without a doubt, David Wilson had kidnapped and probably attacked Skylar.

  After her follow-up doctor’s appointment, they’d go to the train and bus station. However, chances were the woman sleeping on his sofa did not travel by communal transportation. He’d check with the sheriff’s office to see if they discovered an abandoned vehicle.

  She hadn’t recognized the value of money, or the exchange of USD for EUR, or for that matter, understood paying cash for material items. Her exposure in the store didn’t bother him as far as societal norms, but the engorgement of blood vessels in his cock at seeing the beauty of her long-legged naked form was something he’d never experienced outside the transition of wolf. He wanted to see all of her again.

  The city of Pure wasn’t a large metropolis. If Skylar were local, then someone would’ve identified her by now.

  She stirred. Her movements were precise, no wasted energy, no dainty delicate hand gestures. Tucking her hands under her cheek, she opened her eyes and licked her lips. Finally, he got to see what he’d been waiting for—sharp and clear desire in her blue stare.

  Chapter Four

  Crows squawked. Leafless branches clinked. Fallen foliage crunched underfoot. Skylar stopped and glanced around, reliving her encounter with the vagrants. She and Aidan left the path and were standing in the center of a small clearing. The trees closed in on her. More than likely a normal person would have felt fear—fear like the kind of scenes depicted in horror movies, sending chills up the spine and sweat underneath the arms and breasts, but she didn’t. She had a human appearance, and people treated her as similar, but after adding up the inconsistencies, she felt like a newborn thrown into the cold world as an adult. Deep down she had abilities, skills in fighting an enemy, and the thought created a terror inside her, a fear she ineptly would conquer, eventually.

  Should she fake anxiety? Surely, he’d expect a female visiting the site where she’d been kidnapped and attacked to show some emotion, angst.

  She glanced around the clearing taking note of the campfire, now days old and looking like her brain felt, a mush of gray and black.

  “Getting anything?” Aidan tilted his head, as if listening for sounds of her memory.

  Her head ached. She touched her forehead hoping to magically force the pounding to leave. “I think I was here for a reason, except the men who attacked me were an unwelcome interference.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder, as a comfort and no doubt because she wobbled just a fraction. “Do you have any idea of the reason?”

  She leaned into the sturdiness of his arm and shook her head. “No, I don’t have a clue. I’ve no idea of motivation. Why did I feel compelled to be alone in the middle of the forest, without identification, after the sun had set? Don’t you find it strange?”

  “I’ve seen many odd things in my time, so very little throws me. However, your situation does baffle me. I guess we should wait until your memory returns or someone responds to the posting.” He led her to a grouping of fallen trees, all without branches. A limited few were ripe with mossy decay.

  Shouldn’t the path, scents, something, bring a memory? It was as if her mind had been wiped of all past experiences. The constant ache of not knowing who she was grew tiresome.

  “Why doesn’t anyone recognize me?” She sat on a sturdy log and crossed her ankles. “I feel like an alien not knowing anything and not fitting in.”

  “Give it time.” His knee bumped hers as he sat beside her and placed his hand on the log along her backside. The strength within him was admirable, not only was he lean and muscled but his character remained steadfast, a true gentleman.

  “Why did you get involved? You could have sent me to the homeless place the sheriff talked about.” He didn’t grimace or smile. Instead, his beautiful gray eyes sparkled. Her heart beat at a faster rate from a simple stupid look. Would he share his thoughts, hovering behind those shining eyes, with her?

  “You’re not really homeless.” He winked. “Your internal GPS is temporarily broken, so you can’t locate your home.”

  “What if it isn’t temporary? What if I never remember who I am? What will I do?” Even as she said the words, they didn’t sound like something her true self would say.

  “Skylar…”

  Nor did that name. Skylar couldn’t be her name. She had another, perhaps close to the sound of this temporary one, but it felt wrong to answer to an alias. However, an answer needed to be made. “Yes.”

  At his delay, she glanced into his face. Wide-eyed he stared at her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Your skin…sparkles.”

  She wiggled her arms, then folded them under her breasts. “Yeah, it’s the body lotion from the bag. I thought I’d put on too much, but the scent was nice. Lavender and vanilla. I kind of liked it.”

  “Me too.” He kissed her cheek, the jaw line, but the sweetness of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. She wanted more, full body contact, some resolution for the desire steadily building since he’d answered the door wearing open jeans and scratching his powerful chest.

  It only took a second to turn, aligning their faces. Their lips connected, hesitantly at first. She stepped away and, he finally looked into her eyes. She didn’t see abhorrence, just heat. In hopes of getting some reaction from the desire exploding like stars on a clear night across his beautiful grays, she kissed him again and applied pressure.

  His lips burned imprints onto hers. This kissing activity she did remember. Even if she didn’t recall her old life, his gentle firm kiss became a beginning for her new life. Could she start a romantic relationship with him? There could be a significant other somewhere in her past. She’d have to cool her jets and, with regret, broke the connection.

  ****

  Her lips scorched his. Moments before Aidan wanted to devour her mouth, but instead he brushed her cheek in deference to her unknown past. But then their lips met, and he’d lost his sense of preservation. Pride quickly fell at his loss of control. What could he say? Her face paled, and her fingers trailed across the top peak of her perfect pink lips. Should he
apologize for something he’d wanted to do from the instant he witnessed her defending herself from a kidnapper? The brave and beautiful Skylar would have a guy, but if the stars were aligned not a husband. Aidan glanced at her fingers, no visible sign of jewelry, no indentation, or tan line where a wedding ring would have circled her finger at one time.

  Before he could pry further, somewhere in the thick undergrowth, branches rustled. Not as a result of a blustery wind, only a breeze. Through the cool air he picked up the scent of man. Not the fresh showered Irish Spring scent, but man sweat covered by earth and flora. He turned his head, trying to pinpoint the location of the invader. A hunter coming across them on private land by chance was unlikely. Aidan could sense the man, well hidden in the brush, had evil intent. He could perceive malicious resolve.

  He had to hunt, but first he needed to make sure Skylar was safe. Aidan glanced to the sparse bush where a camouflage outfit didn’t hide the guy’s brown eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice trembled as she nodded toward the woods.

  “I…this was a mistake. Too soon. I’ll take you back. You should rest. Later we’ll check with the sheriff’s office.” He stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stand.

  “But—”

  “Do you have a headache?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Let’s go. We’ll return some other time.”

  “Is this because of the—”

  “Now, Skylar.”

  Her legs stiffened and her shoulders went back, making her breasts prominent in the thin blue sweater. Heat flooded him, an illogical reaction to her stubbornness. Control, Hall, she’s just a beautiful woman. He released her hand and walked briskly along the path of trampled dew wet grass. Hopefully, once again, she’d follow.

  ****

  Transformed, Aidan ran through the woods. His back paws digging into the moist moss as he tried to make up for the hour he’d lost in getting Skylar settled at his house. As a wolf his fine-tuned tracking skills and keen sense of direction led him to the vicinity of the interloper. He’d have to make a quick decision, take out the intruder or merely immobilize him until the sheriff arrived.

  At Port River, a waterway boundary dividing Wilson land from his property, the human scent ended. The swell of the river bowled along well above its usual height. Strong rains in the past week powered this rapid current. Despite the hypnotic force of nature, he had no choice but to cross the river and try to pick up the scent on the other side.

  The thrum of excitement as he fought the cold, harsh tides gave him a rush of adrenaline. A mile expanse could have been crossed at a quicker pace as a human, but he didn’t want to take the time to transform. Out of practice, the change took longer than in the old days.

  He focused on his upper body strength, pulling his weight through the water. Once he arrived at his short destination, the boulders near the bank, he could catch a breath. He clung to the rough edge, inhaling the algae. Reenergized he finished the swim. Shoulders heaving, he waded through the shallow water and gravel. Thankful to feel solid surface beneath his paws, he padded onto dry ground.

  Looking back to the opposite bank, he’d traveled several feet from his point of entrance. He shook off excess liquid from his thick coat and trotted along the rocky shore. He reached the location where Wilson may have exited the water. Despite having his nose pressed to the vegetation on the forest ground, he didn’t pick up a scent. The man had migrated through the water and some telltale sign should have remained. Aidan scouted along the riverbank. There wasn’t anything richer than the fragrance of the sodden grasses crushing beneath his paws. Deeper in the woods, he checked for aromas and broken branches to indicate some passage by a two-footed. The sun hovered near the horizon, ready to disappear, but he continued searching the perimeter of Pippa’s property. At the edge of a hill he spotted a glint of light. A reflection or, dare he hope, the villain had revealed himself?

  He shoved aside his fear of leaving Skylar alone for an extended period of time and sprinted toward the illumination. Several months had passed since he’d run a steep incline, and the air whooshed from him until his lungs hurt. In order to keep his fitness as a wolf, tomorrow he’d begin a running program as a man. The location, easy to find, provided a clue, an empty snack wrapper. He pawed the silver crinkly paper. Sweet sugary scent, wet and sticky indicated someone had been in the area within the last couple of hours. The search would continue.

  Residue sparkled on a leaf. He inhaled. Unscented. He suspected the substance wasn’t lotion. His heart beat as fast as the wind swooping around a coyote cave. Had his adversary found him? He thought he’d be safe here, in the mid-west, away from the cruelties of his former life. Illogical to think negative thoughts, he clasped the shiny stem between his teeth and tore the tainted leaf from the plant. Carrying the sticky leaf for miles would be a pain, but he had to perform a chemical test to relieve his fears and possibly reevaluate his present position.

  Skylar has a sweet tooth, the chant whispered through the trees as he drew closer to home.

  Chapter Five

  The sun, skimming low to the ground, would disappear soon. Mist curled on the earth and hugged the tree trunks, announcing yet another cool night. A coyote wail sliced the night. Skitters rippled along her arms. Skylar peered through the woods trying to fight the chill brought on by the constant howling.

  Where had Aidan gone?

  He’d said he had to answer a call, but that was two movies and an hour of practice ago. What exactly did a “call” mean?

  Shaking off shivers, she shoved the broomstick to the left, raised her right hand, slid the left toward the end of the pole, and thrust the knob toward the scarecrow’s head. Intentionally not hitting her target, she shifted her body, rotating to get momentum, and plunged the end of the rod into the straw-stuffed gut, so her opponent swung from side to side on its earthbound post.

  Defense practice, unlike shopping, gave her joy, a feeling of normal. If not law enforcement, perhaps she was involved in those war games between nations or the Olympics. She grimaced. Memories failed to shed any light on the subject. However, exercising each day made her feel powerful, and she needed power.

  She bounced on her toes and pretended to battle the enemy. The rough boots, a snug fit, allowed little room to wiggle her toes. Although the binding gave her good stability, the squeeze offered blisters as a bonus. Her breath caught. She remembered waking, surrounded by three men preparing to do immoral acts. At the flash of recollection, her heart beat faster and her nerves tingled. Was this fear? This emotion, understanding a foe and the anxiety associated with enemy conflict shook her core. She also knew dread wasn’t something her body or mind accepted very well. To back down from a challenge? Nope, not a part of her. The words brave and loyal popped into her mind.

  Refocused on the scarecrow, she pictured the burly criminal who’d tied her to a tree and drooled over her like a piece of well-cooked steak. She held her pole in attack position. Like a conditioned warrior, she shoved her left foot back and over, and at the same time she swung the stick striking him across his solar plexus. “Skūta!”

  Revived, she moved her hand, angled the position for a second assault.

  “Why are you beating my scarecrow?”

  She whipped around, stabilized her feet for defense, and held her pole positioned for action. Primed and ready, she breathed deeply and tossed her short hair to clear the strands from her eyes. Aidan’s wet slicked hair and thin T-shirt stuck to his muscular chest, illustrating defined ripples. At his narrow waist, the soft material folded highlighting the natural V of his torso. The guy had a hot bod.

  Tickles, low in her body, sparked her stomach to quiver. Emotions—all the wrong ones bounced through her body, finalizing her defeat with a hot tingle between her thighs.

  Lost.

  He’d tucked in his shirttail, except for about four inches near the jean zipper. She stared, not because of his fresh gut-wrenching appearance rather due to the
movement underneath the pants. Stop!

  Until she understood her past—who she was, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—consider a future. “I’m practicing. Training to protect myself.” She tilted her head from left to right, getting the cramping kinks out of her neck. “I think I may have been in the military. Or FBI. CIA. Some job where I, ah…”

  “What?” He took hold of her arm, which limply held the stick at her side.

  “Assassinated people,” she whispered, not truly wanting the thought to be real.

  He dropped his hand. At his evaluation, the previous happy tingles in her blood stream chilled her. He’d think less of her, and imagining falling from her pedestal made her want to cry.

  Their gazes held. He grinned. Her heart rate increased as he walked around her. “I don’t believe you’re an assassin and certainly not a murderer. You couldn’t be someone who gets paid to kill prominent people.”

  She kept her gaze on him, hoping to see his expression. He stopped in front of the scarecrow and picked a few loose hanging bits. He’d come full circle and stood nose to nose with her. “When you described the man attacking you, you didn’t say you killed him and under the circumstances you should have. Also, you know as much about politics as you do shopping.”

  Relief flooded her, bringing tears to cloud her vision. The short sharp breaths and pounding from her chest slowed. She slouched. “Whew, that makes me feel better, except I believe—I know—I’ve worked with dead people.”

  “Your memory has returned?” Sandpaper rough, his sturdy fingers grazed against her cheek, pushing sweaty strands of hair from her face. She had to smell...horrible. Regardless, she leaned closer to him. Their breaths synched and their bodies touched, making her heart pound so hard the beats vibrated in her ears. The man made her feel things she’d never experienced.