TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 102: STOLEN MEMORIES

VALORIA WILDEROSE

My heart sinks painfully and something sickening settles in my chest while he looks at me.

I bite my lips.

The question burns on my tongue, but I have to ask it.

"Is that why you’ve been nice to me? Why you have this unexplainable fancy, as you call it, for me? Because my eyes remind you of hers?"

My world begins to spin and collapse as I unravel another one of his lies piece by piece.

I grow even sicker, wanting to puke.

He looks shocked and offended again.

"It’s not because you have the same eyes."

But I don’t believe him.

How can I? Everything he’s said and done suddenly feels tainted by the ghost of a woman who’s been dead for centuries.

I throw the blanket off of me after breaking free and rising to my feet. Hands reach out to stop me, but I maneuver away from them, refusing to be near him right now.

Everything hurts, but this time I maintain my balance without falling and look at him once I’m far enough.

"You just said it now. Your eyes said more than enough. Even that night you looked at me, except it wasn’t me you were looking at. It was her."

I’m acting like a schoolgirl who just got her heart broken even though it doesn’t make sense.

I can’t help but be hurt at the possibility that every good thing between us was really just him searching for her.

Every stolen glance. Every teasing remark. Every moment I thought was meant for me.

"I’m just some replacement for your dead first love that helped curse you. Someone you haven’t gotten over."

"Valoria."

"Is that why you wanted to turn me into a Lycan? You couldn’t make her into one of your zombies, so you’re trying to do the same thing with me?"

He’s taken aback more than I am the moment I say those words without thinking. Then he looks at me like I’ve stabbed him in the heart with a blade already.

I’m struck by guilt that swiftly swallows every bit of my unreasonable anger, forcing me to see clearly just how far I’ve reached in my accusations.

"And I thought I was the cruel one between the both of us. But you have me beaten this time," he whispers through a small smile.

Suddenly I wish I could take it back and actually hear him out, but it’s too late.

Silence engulfs the both of us. No one says another word. Me especially—I’m forced to be more cautious.

With my shame, I walk back to the bed slowly, sitting down, unable to look him in the eye again, overwhelmed by helplessness.

I shouldn’t care that he’s hurt, just like I shouldn’t be having this conversation with him, but things have grown too complicated and out of my hands, and I’m left with only confusion.

"Why do we always argue and yell when we’re together?" I ask rhetorically.

For whatever reason we fight like children and say hurtful things, but neither of us ever leaves.

Maybe that says more about us than either of us wants to admit.

I expect him to ignore me, too angry to speak, but I hear his voice again—light and playful:

"Because talking is too mellow."

I can’t stop the laughter that takes me off guard. I never even stood a chance, and just like that the tension dissipates.

"I’m serious."

"Because you challenge me and I challenge you," he responds again, more seriously.

I find the courage again to look at him and meet his eyes.

"I don’t remember what she looks like or anything about her," he says with reassurance for me, from nowhere, even without me asking.

I find myself able to smile again.

"Tell me what you do remember about her."

"I know she was unlike anyone I’d ever met before, and along the line of meeting her secretly, she was everything to me a long time ago." His blank stare suddenly morphs into a frown, recalling something unpleasant. "I know that her betrayal stung more than words could describe."

"What was it like back then?"

"I don’t know. A lot of my memories feel like they were stolen from me. All that’s left is pain and anguish that time has never been able to fade. A strong overwhelming desire for destruction and revenge and a single compulsion resounding in my mind—that once I become a god, everything will make sense again."

I can’t say anything after that, knowing where both of us stand on that topic. Still, I’m interested to know another reason why he strives to attain something so far-fetched.

His memories.

What does it even feel like to live without them, I wonder.

To exist for centuries with only pain as your compass and revenge as your destination.

I climb deeper into the bed, getting ready to fall asleep again, and he sets the duvet aside for me, folding it over my body once I’m in. Once again he tucks me in.

"I wandered the halls drunk... you took me back into my room, didn’t you?"

I’ve suspected since earlier today when he practically pinned me down just like I was that night.

Azrael stares at me like a deer caught in headlights, but he doesn’t confirm or deny anything, wearing an uncomfortable expression.

"You need to rest."

He gets up, turning to leave me finally, but I reach out and take ahold of his hand before he can get far enough.

"Wait. I don’t want to be alone," I confess, hit with a wave of embarrassment.

I’m not terrified by the dark, but I don’t want to wake up from another dream alone.

It would be the perfect time to tease me for being a wuss, but he misses the opportunity on purpose.

Rather, he slowly sits back down next to me, staying still without complaints even when I don’t let go of his hand.

"I’ll stay till you fall asleep again."