Chapter 2

Strange, seeing him like this. Since the amnesia, this was the first time we'd come face to face.

He stood in front of me, and reality finally sank in. This was a different Victor.

He didn't step inside right away.

His gaze swept from my neck all the way down to my ankles.

I hung up the phone, fidgeting with the lace trim of my nightgown.

"Yeah, that's me. Though 'ex-wife' might be more accurate soon."

He didn't respond. One hand in his trouser pocket, the other casually adjusting a cuff, moving with an elegance that didn't belong to a man who'd been severely injured.

"Louis tells me I used to love you very much." His voice was still a little hoarse.

Used to. Tells me.

Something about the phrasing made me angry, though I couldn't quite say why.

"And?" I looked up. "Is Mr. Victor saying this because he finds his past self ridiculous?"

He didn't answer immediately.

His gaze drifted to the nightstand.

There sat a photo from last year at the sapphire mine. In it, I was hugging a massive uncut stone, beaming. Victor stood behind me, arms around my waist, chin resting on top of my head. Cold expression, impossibly soft eyes.

Now, Victor looked at that photo and frowned.

"Not ridiculous," he said after a few seconds. "Just hard to understand."

"I don't understand why I would've fallen in love with a human."

I turned away with a scoff.

That wasn't what he said when he was chasing me.

The day we first met, I'd just gotten off work, so exhausted I was practically floating.

I looked up and was blinded by the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

He stared at me. I stared back.

Five seconds passed.

Just as I was starting to wonder if I was hallucinating from fatigue, he smiled. It was the kind of smile where his entire face lit up, full of shock and joy and deep, overwhelming satisfaction.

"Found you," he said, his voice like a cello.

"Huh?"

"My mate." He closed the distance in one stride and pulled me into his arms without asking.

I was so startled I dropped my files everywhere.

"Wait, wait. Sir, you've got the wrong person."

"No, I don't." He dipped his head, his nose almost brushing my cheek, and inhaled deeply. "This is the scent. It's you."

"I've been looking for you for twenty-seven years."

I found out later that serpents have an instinct to mark their destined mates. After coming of age, they're driven to seek out a specific scent that belongs to them alone.

No one expected that Victor would feel nothing for any female shifter, and that he'd find what he was looking for in a dirty corner of a human city.

He told me that in that moment, twenty-seven years of restless, churning blood went still.

"Marry me, Cassandra. I'll give you everything."

*****

"Cassandra?"

Victor's voice yanked me out of the memory.

I blinked. He was still watching me.

"Sorry." I forced the corners of my mouth up. "Just remembering some things from before."

Like how he'd swept into my life with that absolute certainty and dragged me into the world of shifters. And how he was now using amnesia as an excuse to say he didn't need me as his mate anymore.

"Mr. Victor," I met his eyes. "When you get your memories back, will you regret this?"

His gaze held mine.

"I don't regret any decision I've made."

"Even if my memories return, I won't change my mind. Monday. I expect you at the Mark Removal Center. Don't be late."

I nodded. "Fine."

He didn't say another word and turned to leave.

My head was a mess, but old habits kicked in and I instinctively moved to walk him out.

I tripped on the edge of the rug.

"Careful."

A force caught me around the waist and pulled me back.

I crashed into a solid, warm chest.

That familiar cool scent wrapped around me instantly.

Through the thin fabric of my nightgown, I felt the steady thud of his heartbeat against my back. One beat, then another—strong and sure.

Then he let go as if he'd been burned.

I turned. He was staring at his own hand, the one that had just held me, looking confused.

"Sorry." His voice was even rougher now. "That was out of line."

He turned and left quickly, almost stumbling.

I watched him disappear down the stairs.

The spot on my waist where his hand had been still felt warm.

I touched it, then reached back to feel the faint raised outline of the serpent-shaped mark on the nape of my neck.

"Liar," I whispered at the empty doorway.