The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 42

Chapter 42

The large wolf sniffed the ground.  There it was; that scent.

Hers.

He let the scent fill into his nostrils and flow throughout his body.  His eyes rolled back and he lifted his head to the moon shining in the sky.  Her scent brought up wafting memories of her blood running down her fingers, its rich taste covering his tongue.  He mouth went dry with the desire of her blood.  His ears howled for her cries of pain.  His hands ached to feel her neck between his fingers, lifeless and crushed.  His body thrummed with the madness, the urge to kill.

The need for revenge.

He calmed his body.  He needed to maintain control to succeed in his revenge.  He could not rush in and kill her.  No, he needed her to suffer the way he did.  He needed her to feel his pain.  Then he would kill her.

He looked at the moon, almost full in the night sky, only four days away.

She only had until then to live.

“No way!”  Aaron exclaimed over pancakes. “I didn’t even know badger shifters existed, much less that they glowed bright orange.”

“It’s true,” I smiled back before taking a sip of coffee. “It’s really bright.  It hurts my eyes if I look at it too long.  It was a lot brighter than yours, even when you’re especially glowing.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, his mouth full of blueberry pancakes dripping in butter and maple syrup.

Aaron hadn’t pestered me the previous night about the details of my Sight.  He must have noticed it made me uncomfortable to talk about it after my great relief of stress the previous night.  Instead we turned on a movie and watched that until I fell asleep on the couch next to him.  I woke up in my bed, snuggled against his warm chest.  Once he finally woke up we made breakfast, and I decided to open the topic up to him—I figured he would be curious.

“When shifters feel emotional or more animal like they glow more,” I informed him. “Or when it’s getting closer to the full moon.”

He swallowed and paused, a pensive expression on his face as he regarded me.  Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to speak. “Is that why sometimes you squint?”

I shrugged. “Probably.  You’ve gotten pretty bright before.”

“Do only shifters glow?”

“No.  If a human is chosen by a shifter to be a mate, he or she glows too.”

Aaron looked hard at my face. “Do you glow?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” I quietly answered. “But not the same color.”

“Why not?”

“I’m your Find, not your chosen.  I started glowing 24 hours after we met on the beach.  That’s how I knew I was your Find.  That’s the only reason I didn’t leave that night,” I finished quietly.

“Why should being Found and chosen be different colors?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.  Maybe because there is a choice in one, but not the other?  Chosens are also not as brightly glowing.”

I watched as Aaron reached across the table and took my hand.  He brought it to his lips and kissed my knuckles.  His eyes lifted to mine, his grey orbs steeling all my sight and peering into my mind.

“I would choose you,” he whispered.  “Of all the females in the world, I would still choose you.”

I looked down, pulling my hand out of his grasp and into my lap, where my hands clenched to fists. “Then why was I Found?  Why was I not chosen?”