Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Then there was the only question I couldn’t seem to move past: Had Alex only spent time with me because he thought I could heal him?

  I was still standing in the kitchen, at a loss as I mulled it all over, when Alex returned. He wore a fresh pair of cargo pants and a fitted shirt that hugged his ribs and biceps but slid easily over his skin as he opened the fridge and withdrew a couple of bottles of water. He rounded the island and came to stand in front of me.

  Distracted, I looked up only to find him already watching me. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, uncapping a bottle of water and handing it to me.

  I took it and eyed him carefully, glad I’d had the past few minutes to gather my thoughts. “I have a lot of questions but only one of them matters right now,” I said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Did you only spend time with me because of what you thought I could do for you?” I asked. “Healing you, I mean?”

  “What? No.” he took a step toward me and I held up my hand.

  “This is the only question that matters because your honesty here will determine whether I stay or go. If you lie, I’m leaving and you can forget about my helping you find a cure.”

  “Sam. I know what you’re asking me and the answer is no. If that were it, I would have stuck around, but I would have kept my distance. Everything else about getting to know you, and I mean everything, was my choice. I wanted to be around you.” He took a step closer. “I wanted to kiss you.”

  The water bottle shook in my hand until Alex took it from me and set it aside. His brown eyes were dark and intent on mine as he leaned closer, staring down at me. His mouth was only an inch away now but I wanted his honesty more. I wanted to see the truth when he looked at me.

  “This is all me,” he said, running the back of his hand down my cheek.

  I shivered and, going on my intuition—something I’d come to believe was broken all along—made my decision.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alex

  Sam’s cheeks were still wet with tears. I brushed them dry with my knuckles and slowly, I leaned down to kiss the soft skin where the tears had been. She smelled like grass and something flowery. Lavender? No, muskier. Jasmine. Whatever it was, I was drunk on it. On her. I kissed down her cheek and chin, wanting to memorize every inch of her. How her skin felt underneath my lips. By the time I made it to her mouth, she still hadn’t moved, and I eased back, unsure whether to keep going.

  I stared at her in silent question. Her hand snaked its way up my shirt to fist in the fabric over my chest. I met her gaze, her hazel eyes full of that damned trust she kept placing in me.

  Even after telling her about being sick and about who Mirabelle thought she was she still looked at me like I was safe. I couldn’t believe it. It was a heady thing, having someone’s trust. And it gave me a ridiculous shred of hope that I might be able to come back from the real truth someday. Not today. Right now, I was too grateful for another chance to touch her. To have her look at me like this.

  I found myself leaning into it—into her.

  Slowly, I brought my hand up to cup her cheek. I leaned forward, closing the distance inch by inch, wanting to make sure she was sure. When I saw that she was, impatience won out.

  My mouth crashed onto hers and I held on, willing her to let me lay it all at her feet. Attraction. Lust. Desperation. Loneliness. All of it came bubbling up and out, and with nowhere else for it to go, I gave it all to Sam.

  She was warm and willing in my arms, her hair tangling in my hands. I pressed against her, pulling her hips against me until there just wasn’t enough pressure. Winding my hands around her waist, I picked her up and carried her to the wall, pinning her there and running my hands up over her abdomen and cupping her breasts through her shirt. My shirt. It was so sexy seeing her in my clothes.

  When her lips parted and she moaned, I snaked my tongue inside her mouth, and groaned. She tasted so fucking good. Better than I’d imagined.

  I kissed her like I was drowning. Like I might never get this chance again. Like I was losing myself and only she could save me. And in every way I could imagine, I knew only she could. But I also knew that in the end, I wouldn’t let her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sam

  Alex’s hands were warm against my skin, his mouth hot and pleading. Desperate. Fevered. He wasn’t asking permission. Or forgiveness. And he wasn’t nice about it. But I kissed him back hard enough to let him know I wanted this. And I told the little voice inside me that warned against trusting a devil to shut the hell up.

  God, he was beautiful. Especially when he let himself come undone. When his control slipped and he accidentally bared himself—that was the Alex I was falling for. Hard and fast.

  When Alex’s hands became too familiar with the inside of my shirt, I finally pulled away, breathing hard.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean…to go to fast,” he trailed off, his dark brown eyes pinning me against the wall even more than any hold he had on my body.

  “It’s okay,” I assured him, touched that he was concerned for me. Respecting me. When had that ever happened? “We just have… more important things,” I managed to say between breaths and Alex nodded, smiling.

  “Fine, but I reserve the right to do that again sometime.”

  I felt a smile tugging at my lips and my cheeks warmed. Shit, was I actually blushing? Another first.

  I considered pointing out that the last time we’d gotten anywhere near each other’s mouths, he’d called it a bad idea. But I wasn’t about to ruin my own good time. He stepped back and I adjusted my shirt, promising whatever was left of old Sam that we’d find time to do more of that later.

  I ran a hand through my hopelessly tangled hair and tried to shove what had just happened far from my mind. If I was going to sort through the truth, I needed to think clearly. “If what you’re saying is true—Hell, even if it isn’t—I need to do whatever it takes to remember everything I’ve forgotten.”

  Alex nodded. “Preferably before another werewolf attacks you. You have a plan?” he asked.

  “First, I need clothes.”

  Alex smirked. “I think you look pretty great in my shorts.”

  I pursed my lips, otherwise ignoring his comment—and how much I liked it. “After that, we should talk to Mirabelle. She really said I’m some sort of healer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she say why she thought so?”

  He shook his head. “Not to me. Mirabelle knows more than she’s telling, that’s for damn sure. But she insists it’s you.”

  I scowled at that. Mirabelle and I needed to have a serious conversation about wrongful delegation. Just because I worked at her weird little metaphysical store did not mean she could sub me out to anyone needing a little fairy dust. Also, honesty. That was a thing we needed to hash out for sure.

  Alex turned but I grabbed his elbow. “I have a question for you. Why didn’t you tell me about Mason?”

  He ducked his head, looking everywhere else but at me. “I didn’t think he’d actually hurt you. He… He had a clear attraction vibe going on.”

  I stared at him, my cheeks heating. “Your hunter senses can tell when a werewolf is attracted?” I asked.

  “Hell, no. But my dude senses don’t miss.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Look, if I agree to consider all this as a possibility: My ability to somehow help you cure your werewolf venom infection, the witchy stuff, and whatever else, you have to promise me something.”

  “What?” he asked in a rough voice.

  “Promise me you won’t lie to me anymore.”

  He nodded slowly, and I watched as his throat moved when he swallowed. “All right. I promise.”

  I took a deep breath and released it, not certain at all that I knew what I was getting into anymore—but it was too late. I was here. In this kitchen with a supernatural human built and trained to fight supernatural wolves. And he needed the help of a witch—who also just happened
to be me.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go remember.”

  Oracle was closed when Alex pulled up at the curb. I frowned at the sign and the darkened interior.

  “Evidence that Mirabelle is a witch,” Alex said, one hand dangling over the wheel as the truck idled. “She’s never at work yet mysteriously continues to pay her bills.”

  “It’s Wednesday,” I said, checking the time on my phone and then looking back at the empty store. “She’s supposed to be here on Wednesdays.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  I bit my lip, debating. “I think we should check on her.”

  “You know where she lives. What are we waiting for?” Alex asked, putting the truck in gear.

  “I’m missing a class right now,” I admitted.

  “Look, I’m all for higher education. But Mirabelle’s scent was all over that place and Mason might use it to find you. Which is more important right now?” he asked. When I didn’t answer, he simply said, “Which way?”

  I eyed him, hesitating, but in the end, I gave him directions. The drive over didn’t take long. Mirabelle’s house was on the other side of town—not a far trip—and pretty hard to miss. “Take this right,” I said then glanced down to read a text from Brittany.

  Did you have a guy in the house??

  I had no idea how she’d guessed it. We’d been there ten minutes, tops, and left before she’d gotten home from class. I’d timed it that way on purpose to avoid the inquisition. Apparently, with Brittany, there was no avoiding. I typed back:

  Maybe.

  Her response was almost instant: !!!!!

  “Then what?” Alex asked as I typed out a response, a small smile tugging at my lips.

  I will tell you everything later. Just calm down. Take a breath. I’m fine.

  “You’ll know it, trust me,” I said without looking up.

  Normally, Brittany’s texts annoyed me. Especially when they involved harassing me about guys. But today, I enjoyed the small distraction. I had a feeling after we talked to Mirabelle, it wouldn’t be so easy to distract myself from impossible thoughts.

  “Holy shit,” Alex said and the truck lurched to a stop.

  I looked up, already knowing what I’d find but still just as unsettled as the first time I’d come here. “I know,” I said.

  “It’s … It’s… crooked.”

  “I know,” I said again, peering up at the monstrosity that was Mirabelle Dunmore’s residence.

  Settled at the end of a dead-end road, her house had been the patchwork brilliance—or low-budget multi-project gone wrong—of some past relative she’d told me about once. The center section was brick with an off-shoot of cobblestone that rose up three stories ending in a turret complete with a widow’s walk. On the left side of the brick ranch was an A-frame sectioned in wood and painted red and white like a traditional barn. Rising up behind it was yet another tower, this one gray stone and four stories high—ending in a balcony that flew the 5 flags of what I’d come to learn were the goddess illustrations for the four elements along with Mirabelle’s family crest.

  All of it was overtaken by the unsettling fact that both towers leaned heavily to the right.

  “Is it safe?” Alex asked as he pulled up—not too close, I noticed—and killed the engine.

  “Probably.” I shrugged and pushed my door open, bracing myself for the change in the air. Alex, on the other hand, wasn’t so calm.

  He got out and came around to stand in front of me, frowning as he rubbed his shoulders. “Is it colder up here?”

  “Only on weekdays” I said, earning a strange look as I headed up the sidewalk to the porch.

  Alex followed, uncharacteristically silent. He scanned the yard and leaned over to peer into a window as I rang the bell, and we waited. When no one answered, Alex shuffled his feet impatiently.

  “Come on,” I said.

  I started around the building and Alex followed. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I rounded the corner and Alex stopped dead behind me. I kept moving, opting to give him a minute alone to take it all in. I hadn’t gone far when I heard him striding quickly behind me to catch up. “This is crazy town,” he said, clearly awed.

  I snorted.

  Stretched out in front of me, Mirabelle’s back yard spilled out far and wide until it hit the trees that lined the back of her property. Between here and there, a large, circular dirt track had been constructed complete with a start-slash-finish line, a pit area, and banked turns.

  A thick cloud of dust rose behind a single figure huddled over the handlebars of a faded, red dirt bike.

  Alex simply stared, mouth open.

  I waited until the dirt bike came back around and then waved wildly at the black helmet I knew to be Mirabelle and called, “Hello.”

  Immediately, Mirabelle veered toward us and braked hard enough that the tire kicked out. She came to an angled stop, kicking up a cloud of dust that left me coughing. “Hi, kids. What brings you out? Everything all right at the Oracle?” she asked, peering at us through dusty goggles.

  “Everything’s fine at the store,” I assured her. “But it’s Wednesday.”

  Mirabelle blinked at me, her gray hair framing her face in windblown tufts. “Well, crap. I must have lost track of time. Again.”

  I nodded because there was no use arguing. Or pointing out that when she said “time” she meant “days.” I was afraid to ask how long she’d been out here circling the track. My gut feeling was that she’d say something crazy like “since Sunday.”

  Mirabelle was most normal away from her house. Even at Oracle, I could pretend she was just easily distracted, scatter-brained, menopausal or some other explanatory yet human trait. Out here, in her element, she was undeniably … mystical.

  I suspected that was why Alex had been struck speechless for so long.

  Mirabelle climbed ungracefully off the bike, wobbling as her boot hit the ground and almost falling over. Alex grabbed her before she could go down and she smiled gratefully.

  “Thanks.” She pulled her gloves off. “You kids want some tea?”

  “Sure,” Alex said way too enthusiastically. Probably thought going inside would be less weird.

  I shook my head and followed with considerably less excitement. I’d had Mirabelle’s tea exactly twice and both times made me feel high. Not that I was against drugs but I did have a lot on my plate and couldn’t exactly afford to spent the afternoon lying in Mirabelle’s grass discussing cloud-shapes.

  Again.

  Mirabelle led us through the house, shucking her helmet, gloves, and boots in various rooms along the way. By the time we reached the kitchen, she’d made it down to just jeans and a tunic with a rainbow painted on the front and fringed tassels along the hem.

  “Have a seat,” she said. Without waiting for an answer, she went to work on putting together a pot of tea.

  Alex slid into a kitchen chair, still taking in the room. I hovered just inside the doorway, half in, half out. I still needed both of them to know I wasn’t happy about the lies, whether for my own good or not.

  All around me were bottles of spices and herbs and trays with dried plants and leaves. The house smelled like it had the other times I’d been here: an herbal dispensary combined with the faint scent of patchouli incense. It wasn’t nearly as odd as the last time I’d come, though. Probably thanks to all my time at Oracle making sachets or smelling the herbs there. In fact, it was slightly comforting this time around.

  Mirabelle set a small mug in front of Alex and handed the other to me. I took it and pressed my lips to the rim, not actually sipping. I looked up and caught Alex watching me. His eyes were wide and I raised my brows in silent agreement to whatever he was thinking.

  Mirabelle pulled out a chair and sat, folding her hands around her mug. “All right,” she said as a preamble. “What’s the situation?”

  “How do you know there’s a situation?” I asked.

/>   She spread her hands, gesturing to us both. “For starters, you’re both here. At my house. Together. Voluntarily. And you’re not fighting.” She gave Alex a pointed look. “Also, Sam’s not drinking her tea.”

  Alex stopped drinking his mid-sip and swallowed hard. “What’s wrong with the tea?” he asked.

  I snickered.

  “Nothing,” Mirabelle said, playing a perfect innocent. Probably because she really didn’t find anything wrong with it. Alex’s brow rose. She picked her mug up, blew on it once, and downed half her cup in two swigs. “See?” She smacked her lips together. “Mmm. One of my best batches.”

  Alex turned to me warily. “What’s in the tea?”

  I shrugged and pretended to sip again. Couldn’t hurt Alex Channing to chill a little. I smiled to myself and watched him take a tentative sip.

  Mirabelle clapped her hands. “So, tell me. What’s the situation?” she repeated.

  I didn’t wait for Alex to sugar-coat it. “The situation is that you’ve been lying to me and I need to know for how long and about what exactly.”

  Mirabelle blinked at me and then at Alex.

  “Sam knows,” he said and I scowled.

  Mirabelle nodded sagely like that said it all. “About the …?” Mirabelle’s brow lifted and fell.

  “Yes and the other thing,” Alex said.

  I threw my hand up. “Seriously? How do you even know what you’re talking about?”

  “We’re not hiding so many things from you that we can’t keep track,” Alex said wryly.

  I glared. “Could have fooled me.”

  “She’s not happy with us,” Alex said to Mirabelle.

  “I’m right here, you know,” I said.

  “She’s on board but we don’t know where to start,” Alex went on. He leveled his gaze at her. “And we both know you do.”

  Finally, something we agreed on.

  “So you want answers,” she said, turning to me. “You want to remember?”

  “I think that’s what I’ve been telling you for over a year,” I said.