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There was an answering pull a second before a feeling of warmth rushed over her. Breathing deep, she could’ve sworn she got a whiff of Maddox’s scent: musky and earthy.
Was that the bond?
Evangeline didn’t know.
So what did she know?
She knew that Adam wanted to make her his own.
That Maddox wanted to make her his mate again.
That the witch wanted her to stay away from Maddox.
Okay.
That begged another question: What did Evangeline want?
She was so sick and tired of every part of her life being out of her control. For far too long, every aspect of her life had belonged to someone else. When would it be her turn to live it? She’d cheated death, come out on the other side healthy if not entirely whole.
She always thought she was missing something.
Glancing around the room, thinking of how desperately Maddox implored her to remember, Evangeline had to ask herself if this was what she was missing.
Him.
What did she want?
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe she needed space, needed time. Needed to get her head on straight. The dreams were messing with her, the headaches making it difficult to focus on something so important. Evangeline felt like she was on the precipice of something huge.
All she needed was a push.
Or to jump.
What did she want?
Just once, she was going to be the one who decided.
If she accepted her dreams as memories, the visions that she had these last few years as more than just fantasies… there was a lot less missing than she thought. If Maddox was the man of her dreams, then...
It was worth a shot. And, well, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t secretly harbored a desire to do exactly this ever since he told her she was his mate—and then the nasty witch said she wasn’t.
That decided it for her.
Evangeline swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gingerly testing her ankle. There was an awful twinge if she put too much pressure on it. Shifting her weight to her good side, she limped across the room.
It took her a second to realize that she hadn’t had to guess. Maddox offered her a nightgown, subtly slipping it into their conversation that, as this was their old room, all of the clothes inside used to belong to her. When she went to one particular dresser, yanking out a lacy white nightgown without even thinking about it, she paused for a second, completely stunned.
Maybe… maybe that was her problem. Maybe she was thinking too much.
Maybe it was time to let her feel.
She wanted Maddox.
Maybe she shouldn’t.
Maybe she’d fallen under his spell.
Maybe this was fate—
