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“Ang… if the room in your apartment looks anything like this, that has nothing to do with me. Maybe— maybe you remember more than you think.”
The big holes where her memories should be had been a source of aggravation for Evangeline ever since she woke up in the hospital and couldn’t remember anything about the year that led up to the crash that nearly killed her. At the time, she had a hell of a recovery to look forward to. Her parents were against using any magic to help heal her injuries; they meant well, but their wariness when it came to anything paranormal led to an extended recovery time while Evangeline relearned how to use her entire right side. They told her that her missing memories were the least of her worries. She’d get them back in time.
Three years later, she was still waiting.
Frustration welled up inside of her. She wanted to scream.
Because the truth was that she just wasn’t sure. Monday morning, she knew one thing. Since then, her whole life had changed because Maddox insisted she was his mate.
How could she tell him time and time again that she wasn’t his when she couldn’t remember?
Maybe she was. Fresh on the heels of that vulnerable dream, waking up in a room that was as familiar as it was strange, Evangeline wasn’t about to discount anything. Maybe she was his mate—
No.
No.
It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. And not only because Evangeline hated the idea of having her choices ripped away from her.
Her mother would have told her. If she was mated to a shifter, her family would’ve known. She wouldn’t have pushed Evangeline toward every eligible bachelor in East Windsor before finally having success with Adam Wright—
Would she?
For the first time since she woke up and discovered Maddox had abducted her, Evangeline began to really wonder.
Maddox loped across the wide room, his stride eating up the steps before he would turn, throw a helpless glance toward the bed, then stalk again. She was agitated. So was he.
“I brought you here on purpose. The cabin didn’t help because you never made it there before the accident. You didn’t know it. Fine. But this… this is our home and I thought— I want you to remember… can you tell me that none of this is familiar? That I’m not?”
Desperation flashed in those golden eyes of his.
The same eyes that had been eerily familiar from the start.
Evangeline gulped. “You know it is. I just told you. My room… my bedroom looks almost exactly like this. But, please, just listen to me: this isn’t my home.”
“It is—”
Why wasn’t he listening? “I lived in Woodbridge before I had to move back home, now I’m in Grayson. I know I’ve never been here before.”
“No,” retorted Maddox. “You don’t remember it. You moved in with me more than three and a half years ago. We’d been dating for six months by then and you decided to put your house up for sale so you could live here. This became your home. Our home.”
Three and a half years ago. That fell firmly in the space where she couldn’t remember anything. Same thing as the six months prior. If what he was saying was true, she could have lost an entire relationsh
ip after her accident.
No. No. It couldn’t be. This was Stockholm Syndrome hard at work. She was, for some unknown reason, drawn to this shifter. She wanted to believe that he was good, that he had a reason for everything he’d done so far. If they really had a history she couldn’t remember, she could blame his mating instincts and possessive shifter nature for how he just took her, disregarding all laws and decencies like, oh, maybe telling her that she used to be his mate instead of just running off with her.
It couldn’t be. Any man she loved—any man she chose—would treat her better than a possession that he could grab at will.
“There’s no way—”
“You just don’t remember,” he insisted. “You will, my mate. Whatever it takes, I won’t stop until you remember everything.”
Evangeline flinched. The way he said that—my mate—with such fierceness, such conviction… he was never going to drop it. Didn’t matter how she tried to reason with him. The witch was right. Maddox was convinced that Evangeline belonged with him.
To him.
She pulled herself up, resting her back against a thick oak headboard that was way too close to the one she had at home. “This has gone far enough. Look, for the last time, I’m not your mate. I don’t know why you think I am, but you have to understand that. I won’t tell anyone that you abducted me. It was an honest mistake… just let me go and you can find your real mate. Because it’s not me. It can’t be me. I—”
