(KAELEN'S POV)
"I'd like to be alone with my wife."
My attention was on the stranger, my gaze glued to her large eyes that looked like perfect shards of polished aquamarine. But nothing prepared me for what happened next.
A sob broke out as she rushed forward. Her arms wrapped around my neck gently, her fingers brushed the bandages on my head as her face pressed into my chest.
Ragnar stirred and paced around for the third time in a few minutes, even though he had been silent since the crash.
I went rigid.
No one hugged me. Not like this. Not ever.
From the corner, I saw Mother's eyes widen just before she hurried away.
My attention returned to this 'wife' of mine. Her body was trembling. Soft. Warm. There was a scent—jasmine and something deeper, something that made Ragnar shove against my ribs.
My hand—the one not in a cast—rose on instinct. It hovered over her back. I didn't let it fall.
I didn't hug back. I couldn't. But I didn't push her away either.
"The scans confirm you are experiencing temporary amnesia, Alpha Kaelen. That's why you don't remember the past three days."
Doctor Maeve's words floated in my head, the only attempt at an explanation for this appalling situation.
Then, as quickly as she'd come, she stepped back. The cold air rushed between us, filling the space her warmth had occupied.
I felt the loss immediately. That was… unexpected.
Her wet eyes locked with mine as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, then clutched her veil like a shield.
"They said you were dead?"
Her voice was shaky, her eyes puffy. She looked like she had mourned me already. She was still trembling.
I moved swiftly, wriggling out of my jacket and placing it around her.
I caught a whiff of that sweet jasmine scent again and felt the urge to curse.
"I survived," I answered her question.
"Thanks," she said softly. Gripping the jacket, she eyed me warily, like she was closely observing me. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"
Silence.
"I have no recollection of the past few days. I want to know why I got married to a stranger yesterday."
I had planned on withholding that information, because I didn't believe I was truly married—not even after I saw the marriage certificate with my authentic signature and a legal stamp.
But standing before her felt dangerously distracting. I had the need to relieve her of the fear and confusion I could see in her eyes.
"You don't remember who I am," she said in a low voice, as if speaking to herself.
"I learned your name from our marriage certificate, Amari."
Her shoulders fell. Tiredness? Relief? Weakness? I searched her eyes.
"So we are married."
She looked like I had hurt her by asking that.
"We are married," she replied drily.
"And when did we meet?"
"Three days ago. You came to my village for a project," she answered steadily, even though her voice shook at the end.
"What village?"
"Moon Haven."
My head ached slightly. I was scheduled to have a project there, but I couldn't remember anything about it.
"We met three days ago and got married yesterday. Why would we do that?"
What I truly wanted to say was: why would I do that? But there was that feeling that I had an idea—that there was a tiny chance I could marry someone so quickly.
"We were in love," she whispered, loud enough for me to hear.
I frowned.
Only Ragnar's reaction made any of this remotely believable. And if only he were awake and recovered, then he would have confirmed if my nerves are alert because she is our mate, or if it's because she has the most stunning face I have ever seen.
"Did you love me too?"
Her eyes widened at my question, and her cheeks turned crimson.
"Yes, I did." She looked down at her feet.
"So why are you acting like I'm a stranger?"
The question sank between us, heavy and true.
It did not matter if you had memory loss—a woman in love wouldn't let you breathe after knowing she almost lost you.
I noticed the flash of panic in her perfect eyes, and then a flash of seething anger in those same eyes.
"Maybe because you are a stranger, seeing as you lied to me." Her voice sounded tougher. I could tell she was holding back.
"And what did I lie to you about?"
She didn't back down. "You didn't tell me you were an Alpha," she accused.
I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. Why would I even do that? Could I do that? For what reason?
"And what did I tell you about myself?"
She didn't bat an eye. "That you are a truck driver who lives in Moon Pack Capital and had no family."
I was capable of telling her that I am not an alpha, also capable of telling her that I had no family. But a truck driver? Living in Moon Pack Capital?
I chuckled drily. "I really don't like trucks. I'd rather pick a trailer or even a van."
She narrowed her eyes, as if my gaze was too heavy for her, but then her voice rang out—still cracked, but steady and clear.
"I can add it to the list of things you lied about."
The air stilled.
I know an angry woman when I see one.
"And what more did I tell you about myself?" I bent over to keep eye level with her, but suddenly it felt like I was drowning in those eyes of hers. It was—
I started to sense something faintly. Movement.
I straightened and shut my eyes briefly, the strain from the accident forcing me to seek concentration.
Fast footsteps that I recognized. Someone was headed in this direction.