Page 6 of Healing His Mate

“Well, we’ll let you enjoy your meal and rest up,” Aye-vah says as she and Varrek edge closer to the door.

I would stay by her side if I could. Nothing would bring me more joy than to watch her eat the food I prepared, but it does not feel appropriate. Moments ago, I was a stranger to her. Her memories from the last five years are locked away in some deep, dark corner of her extraordinary mind, and she cannot access them. It must be unthinkably terrifying for her.

“I will leave you now,” I say, covering my heart with my hand once again. “Sleep deep, Nalba.”

“Wait,” she calls out mid-bite. “Sleep . . . deep?”

I turn and shrug in response. “It is what my mother used to tell me when I was a child.”

“I like it,” she says, a thoughtful expression flashing across her face. “Very much.”

“As do I.”

I close the door to Kaiva’s med room behind me as I brave the cold evening air to walk back to the food hall. Krahn, one of our hunters, has been serving the final meal to the clan in my absence so I could bring Nalba hers. I pat him on the back when I return, and he gives me a nod before striding over to assist Elle-noor at the dish station. He is not the best cook. He is not a good cook at all, actually, but he enjoys it more than hunting, so I allow him to assist me.

There is also an understanding between us. A shared desire. I was a warrior on Trovilia, but it was not how I wanted to spend my days. I trained and continued with it because my father was also a warrior, and it is the path he wished for me to follow. But coming to Oluura gave me the chance to be someone else. Someone new. Cooking soothes my soul. It nourishes my people. It keeps them alive. Being the clan’s cook is an honor, and I get the sense that Krahn would make that same choice and leave his hunting days behind him, given the opportunity.

It may not be a coveted role to many, but it is to us.

“How’d it go?” Elle-noor asks as she approaches, wiping her wet hands on a clean rag. “Did she swoon?”

“No,” I reply with a sigh. “She does not remember me. She does not remember anything from the last five years.”

“What?” Elle-noor asks, jerking her head back. Then her eyes widen as realization hits. “Oh god. Her head injury.” Her jaws hang open as her eyes scan the food hall, never settling on anyone or anything. “Five years? She’s lost five years of memories?”

“Yes,” I tell her. I drop the wooden spoon I was using to stir the pot of stew, frustrated at how powerless I feel. “I do not know what to do. I cannot help her. She looked at my face and there was nothing. Nothing in her eyes to indicate she ever knew me at all.”

“I thought she didn’t really,” Elle-noor says hesitantly. “I mean, no offense, but from the infrequent interactions I’ve seen, she’s never been particularly friendly to you.”

I want to correct Elle-noor, but I struggle to find the words to do so, which makes me even more frustrated. “I suppose that is true.” Why do I continue thinking of Nalba each day? Why does it seem impossible to forget her? I have asked myself these questions many times.

I turn toward her and huff a breath. “What do you suggest? That I give up?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, her gaze lifting toward the sky. “I’m curious. Is she your inara? Admittedly, I don’t really understand how that bond works among your people.”

“You mean the tether,” I add.

She nods.

“No, I have not felt the tether. Among our kind, it is something that occurs in both people at the same time, so she would feel it as well if it existed.” I reach up and tuck a loose strand from my mane into the knot atop my head. “She may not be my inara, but I have never cared about such things. I assumed I did not have one at all. And my feelings are not tempered by the lack of tether.”

Elle-noor puts her hands on her hips and shifts her weight from her front foot to her back foot, a mischievous smile forming. “Then I think this is an opportunity, Waldric. The best chance you’re ever gonna get to win her over.”

Her words do not make sense. “What?”

“Think about it,” she replies excitedly. “She doesn’t know you. She has no idea you’ve been crushing hard on her for the last five years. All those times you tried to flirt with her and failed. That time you told her you wanted to massage her brain tissue like fresh dough. You remember that, right?”

“Ah, I do, yes.”

“She has no memory of that! You can start over. It’s like you’ve been given a second chance!”

A second chance. I like the sound of that. “I can grow close to her by helping her.”

“Yes!” Elle-noor squeals as she does a little hop. “You can flirt with her, but like, in a way that won’t make anyone cringe. Then she’ll see how lovable you are!”

“I do not know how to flirt,” I admit. I have tried, many times I have tried, but I get lost in her sparkling gray eyes and forget who I am or what I wanted to say. “What if her memories return and she decides I am not worthy of her attention?”

“Then it’s time to move on, bud,” she replies simply as she returns to her dish station. “You’re too much of a catch to chase a woman who doesn’t really see you.”

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