Page 51 of Wanted

Is she feeling the bond?

The thread that’s connecting us?

A thread that’s too fucking weak and hanging on only by the thinnest of fibers.

“Look,” I say as gently as possible, “my name is Raphael. What’s yours?”

Shaking her head again, her raven-black hair waves back and forth in front of her face.

She curls up in the chair like she wishes the filthy cushions would swallow her.

My heart crumbles just a little more each time she refuses to even look at me.

I’ve longed for this moment for so long…

Forcenturies.

Yet the very sight of me sends her into a panic.

Maybe she feels my panic through the bond? Or senses the terror that’s trying to grip my soul and shred it to pieces?

“Were you one of the ones that kept drugging me?” she asks quietly.

“What?” I ask in horror.

How could she believe such a thing about me? Does she not feel anything from me?

“Never,” I insist. “I never would have done that to you.”

I can tell from the look on her face she doesn’t believe me.

“I don’t remember anything,” she says. “I don’t know how I got here after… I only remember being held down, drugged, and forced to sleep.”

Fuck.

That makes two of us losing our memory. Except I wasn’t drugged when I couldn’t control myself.

I have faint recollections of right before we stormed the building that Nikolaos was holding her prisoner in.

The agony of knowing she was trapped and not by my side.

I remember the red haze that ripped through my vision. The uncontrollable rage as my berserker broke free from his chains.

I tried to control the rage. I always try to control it, but I couldn’t.

From the state of my clothing, I know I fought.

And most likely killed.

From the smell of the blood on me, I know I battled shifters and vampires.

But which side did I destroy? Mine or theirs?

It should matter to me, but I can’t seem to find the worry. Only the longing to stare at her enchanting face.

The lips I wish to kiss.

The eyes I want to stare into for eternity…

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