Emma's POV
The beeping won't stop.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I try to open my eyes but my head screams. Everything hurts. My skull feels like someone cracked it open and stuffed it with broken glass. I force my eyes open anyway because the sound is driving me insane.
White ceiling. White walls. Machines everywhere.
Hospital.
A spike of panic shoots through me. Why am I in a hospital?
I try to sit up and pain explodes down my spine. A gasp tears out of my mouth. My hands fumble for the bed rails, looking for something to hold onto, something real.
That's when I see him.
A man is sitting in the chair beside my bed. Dark hair. Grey eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. His face is pale and there's stubble on his jaw and when he sees my eyes open, he leans forward so fast the chair scrapes against the floor.
"Emma," he says. His voice is rough. Desperate. "Thank God."
I don't know him.
The panic gets worse because I should know him. The way he's looking at me says I should know him. But his face is a complete blank. I've never seen this man in my life.
"Who are you," I say. My voice comes out as a whisper. It hurts to talk.
The man's face changes. The relief drains out of it and something worse takes its place. Something that looks like his heart just broke.
"Emma, it's me," he says. He reaches for my hand. "It's Liam."
The name means nothing.
I pull my hand away and press myself against the pillows. The machines beep faster now, matching the jump in my heartbeat. This guy is a stranger and he's sitting in my hospital room like he belongs there. Like he knows me.
"Don't touch me," I say.
His hand drops. I can see it hurt him but I don't care because right now I'm terrified. My head is pounding. I don't know where I am or how I got here or who this man is and everything inside me is screaming that something is very wrong.
The door opens and a doctor walks in. She's older, with grey hair and tired eyes. She takes one look at the monitor and nods like she expected this.
"Emma, welcome back," she says. She sounds relieved. "How are you feeling?"
"Where am I," I ask. "What happened. Why is there a man in my room."
The doctor pulls up a chair on the other side of my bed. The man stands up, still looking at me like I broke something inside him.
"You were in an accident," the doctor says gently. "Three months ago. You were injured in a battle and hit your head very hard. You've been in a coma for three days."
Battle.
The word doesn't make sense.
"I'm not a soldier," I say. "I work at a bakery. I don't fight battles."
The doctor and the man exchange a look. The kind of look that says they both know something I don't.
"You lost some of your memories," the doctor continues. "When you took the blow to your head, it seems to have erased a significant portion of your recent past. Approximately three years."
Three years.
I feel my chest tighten. That's not possible. You can't just lose three years. That's not how memory works.
"That's not real," I say. "That's not a real thing that happens."
"It's rare but not impossible," the doctor says. She's being too calm about this. Too gentle. Which means it's bad. "We've run tests. Your brain scan shows significant trauma but the injury appears to be healing. We're hopeful that your memories will return with time."
"And him," I ask, pointing at the man. "Who is he."
"I'm your mate," the man says. His voice is quiet. Broken.
The word makes no sense.
"That's not a real thing either," I say. "People don't have mates like we're animals. I think you need to leave."
"Emma," the doctor says, "this is going to be difficult to hear but you were in a serious relationship. With Liam. You were together for three years. He's been by your side since the accident."
Three years.
That's impossible. I would remember dating someone. I would remember a man who looks at me like the world just ended.
But when I look at my hands, I see tan lines on my ring finger. Like something used to sit there. Like I wore a ring and recently took it off or lost it.
My throat feels tight.
"I don't remember," I say. "I don't remember him. I don't remember any of this."
Liam sits back down in the chair. He looks destroyed. Like saying those words out loud just shattered him completely.
"The doctors said the mate bond might help you remember," he says softly. "That our connection could trigger the memories back."
"I don't feel connected to you," I say, and I watch him flinch. "I don't feel anything."
The doctor puts a hand on my shoulder. "Let's not panic. This is normal. Memory loss is disorienting and frightening. You need rest. Liam can stay with you if you'd like. He's been a wonderful support."
"I want him to leave," I say.
Liam stands up immediately like I burned him.
"Okay," he says quietly. "I'll go. But Emma, I'm not leaving the hospital. I'll be in the waiting room if you need me."
After he leaves, the doctor gives me something for the pain and the panic. My eyes get heavy. The machines keep beeping but quieter now, like they're far away.
Before I drift off, I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the opposite wall.
The woman looking back at me is a stranger too.
She has a long scar running down the side of her head. She looks exhausted. She looks scared. And her eyes are the same color as mine but something about the expression is different. Harder. Like she's seen things I haven't. Like she's lived a life I don't remember.
I close my eyes and drift into a sleep full of nightmares I can't quite hold onto when I wake. Blood and claws and someone screaming a name. My name. Over and over.
Hours later, I wake up gasping.
The room is dark except for the glow from the machines. I'm alone which is a relief until I realize I'm not as alone as I thought.
Liam is standing in the doorway.
He's been watching me sleep.
His expression is different now. Less gentle. There's something wild in his grey eyes. Something that looks almost dangerous. He steps into the room and closes the door quietly behind him.
"Don't be afraid," he says. But his voice sounds different too. Deeper. Like there's something under the words.
I press myself against the pillows. He's moving toward me slowly, like I'm an animal he doesn't want to scare.
"Stay away from me," I say.
He doesn't listen.
Liam reaches my bed and without asking, without warning, he leans down and presses his forehead against mine. His hand comes up and cups the back of my head, touching the place where the scar is worst.
"I know you don't remember," he whispers. "But I remember for both of us. I remember everything. And I will spend the rest of my life reminding you why you chose me."
His lips move toward my forehead, like he's going to kiss me.
Every instinct inside me screams danger.
I pull away sharply and my hand shoots out. My palm connects with his chest and I shove hard. He stumbles backward, surprised, and I see something flash in his eyes. Something that makes my blood run cold.
It's not anger.
It's hunger.
When Liam looks at me, he doesn't see a woman who doesn't remember him. He sees something else entirely. Something he's been waiting for. Something he's desperate to claim.
"You're mine, Emma," he says quietly. "And nothing is going to change that. Not even you."