Pia Saves the Day (Elder Races #6.6)(19)

He didn’t step over the threshold, but instead flipped on the light switch and stared for a long time at the room inside. His hands had clenched into fists again. He muttered, “This is his space with you.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Shaking her head, she asked, “Excuse me, what did you say?”

Turning off the light again, he closed the door. “Never mind,” he said. His expression had shut down again. Shutting her out again.

Suddenly wild to get out of that hall, with all of its happy memories, she walked rapidly back to the staircase and took the stairs two at a time. This time he was the one who followed her. She walked out the front of the house, never bothering to shut the front door, and strode down the path to the construction site by the lake.

To the place where her life had vanished.

He stayed close on her heels. She could sense him, a great inferno of heat prowling at her back. Within a few moments, they traversed the wooded area and walked out into clear air, at the edge of the site.

As she paused, Dragos came up by her side and they looked over the scene.

Nearby, the lake sparkled peacefully in the moonlight. This construction area was not neat, like the space around their house had been. Tools, hard hats and equipment had been abandoned, and across the clearing, the pile of rubble still lay strewn at the foot of the bluff.

She covered her mouth as she stared at the place, remembering the dread and panic.

Dragos took her by the hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and drew her forward until they stood together at the base of the bluff.

She fell into the past.

Digging bare-handed through the rubble. Hoping against hope.

She was so lost in the memory of her own nightmare, it took her a few moments to realize that the large, strong hand she gripped was trembling.

Pulled out of herself, she turned to face Dragos.

The frame of his body shook. In the moonlight, he looked drawn and ill.

“What is it?” Concerned, she rubbed his arm.

His bleak gaze met hers. He said hoarsely, “I snapped at you.”

Of all the things she needed him to remember, that was the one thing she had hoped he never would.

She had a split second in which to decide how to respond. In that moment, she made a private vow to never talk about the experience.

How she had felt—the shock, the despair—was none of his business. At least she could protect him from that. They would each need to cope with their own issues that had arisen from what had happened, but for now, there was nothing else to do but confront this head-on.

Keeping her voice calm and reasonable, she said, “Well, of course you did. How else would you act? You had just suffered a massive blow to the head, and you thought you were under attack.”

In the short amount of time they’d had together, they had shared some tough moments, but through it all, she had never seen him look so injured. He looked like he wanted to vomit.

“I almost killed you,” he said from the back of his throat. “I could have killed you. What kind of Wyr could do that to his mate?”

He was breathing raggedly, as if he had been running for a long time.

“You didn’t.” She put her arms around his shaking body and held him in her strongest, tightest grip, turning her head so that her cheek rested in the slight hollow of his breastbone. “You wouldn’t.”

He made an inarticulate noise that sounded crushed, and clenched her to him.

“I still don’t remember you,” he whispered.

A few hours ago, hearing those words had wounded her terribly, but now she knew better.

She rubbed his back soothingly. “Yes, you do. Somewhere deep inside of you, you do. We just have to be patient and give this some time.” Tilting back her head, she gave him a gentle smile. “Because I’m in your bones, too.”

Chapter Seven

Dragos didn’t know about that.

If she was in his bones, why did holding the delicate, feminine form in his arms feel entirely new? The perfumed scent of her hair was amazing. The trust she exhibited as she leaned against his body was revolutionary, life-changing.

He hadn’t earned her trust. It was a gift, like her healing, and the gold and jewels. Her generosity of spirit staggered him.

The different aspects of his personality raged against each other. He felt torn, pulled in too many directions. Part of him strained for the memories that weren’t there. He was shocked at so much evidence of his presence in this place, and furious that he could not feel a part of any of it.

Then there was the jealousy, which made him feel more insane than ever.

He hated the other Dragos, the one who had been a full participant in this rich, complex life. The one whom Pia obviously adored. He wanted to roar a challenge at that other dragon and tear him to shreds, until he was the only one left alive, the true victor and inheritor of all this bounty.

But there was no other dragon. There was only himself. The threat he sensed lay inside of him.

He was the one who had snapped at her. He could have killed her, without knowing, and then at some future date, he might have realized what he had done. He might have remembered that she was his mate. A cold nausea swept over him again at the thought.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I didn’t know. I could never have done it if I’d known.”

She rubbed his back with one slender hand. When she spoke her voice remained as gentle and pragmatic as ever. “I know how sorry you are, and I knew you would be. What happened here—I never wanted you to remember that. All I want is for you to remember us.”