[Karmic Wolves 2] Finding Lenora

Remember

Asher’s POV.

I stand in the kitchen, gripping the bag a little too tightly, my heart racing in anticipation. Every fiber of my being aches to see her again. Yesterday wasn’t enough, and I doubt any amount of time with her would ever feel like enough. I need her back with me, permanently. She’s my world, and it feels like she’s slipping through my fingers every time she leaves.

Iliana and Leonis exchange a knowing glance before Leonis speaks, “Are you ready, son?” His voice is calm, but I can feel the weight of his concern behind the question. I nod eagerly, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears as Iliana prepares to teleport us. In a blink, we’re near the location, the air heavy with anticipation. They hang back, giving me the space I need, while I stride ahead, searching for her.

The butterflies in my stomach multiply, becoming a storm of nervous energy. Where is she?

Then, as if summoned by my thoughts, the sunlight is blotted out, replaced by the massive shadow of a pink dragon hovering above the trees. I hear the grinding sound of a cage mechanism, steel against steel. My heart leaps. It’s her!

Without thinking, I run toward her, my feet barely touching the ground. There she is—my angel, beautiful and ethereal. She smiles at me, that smile that could light up the darkest corners of my soul. She’s halfway out of the cage when she stumbles, but I’m already there, catching her as she falls into my arms. The sensation of her body pressed against mine is overwhelming, my soul practically singing. She’s here, in my arms, and she’s not pulling away. She’s leaning into me, allowing herself to be held, and it feels like a dream. One I’m terrified of waking up from.

Above us, the sound of the dragon’s wings recedes as it flies away, leaving us alone. But I hardly notice. All I can focus on is her—those eyes, so deep, filled with a swirl of emotions I can barely understand. We stand there, wrapped in each other, neither of us willing to break the moment. It feels sacred. Like time itself has paused just for us. I smile, unable to help myself. It reminds me so much of the first time we met, that same electric connection.

“I’m glad you came back, sweetheart,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. Her laugh, soft and sweet, is like music to me. “Me too, Asher, but I can’t move,” she giggles, and I realize how tightly I’ve been holding her. Reluctantly, I let her go, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. But as I step back, it gives me a chance to really see her, and damn… she’s breathtaking.

My gaze lingers on her, and despite the intense emotions flooding me, my thoughts drift to her outfit. Why is she always in these revealing clothes? It drives me crazy, and not in a good way. I want to cover her up, protect her from every gaze that isn’t mine. The urge to take off my shirt and drape it over her is almost too strong to resist, but I know better. I have to remind myself that she doesn’t remember us, doesn’t remember how close we once were. It’s hard—so damn hard. Holding her like that and not going in for a kiss was pure torture.

Instead, I hold out my hand, forcing myself to take it slow. “Sorry about that. Would you like to sit with me?” My voice is steady, but inside I’m nervous, waiting for her reply. Her hand finds mine, soft and warm, and when she smiles, my heart skips a beat. That blush on her cheeks—it makes me want to pull her close all over again.

I lead her to a soft patch of grass, where I’d left the bag. As she sits down, I catch the slightest wince, barely perceptible, but enough to set off alarm bells in my head. “Are you hurt, angel?” I ask, my voice tight with concern. She looks at me, surprised, before her expression turns distant, her eyes clouding with something dark. A tear escapes, and I feel my heart shatter. Without thinking, I reach out, brushing the tear away with my thumb. It’s like touching the most fragile thing in the world.

She nods, silent, her eyes avoiding mine as more tears begin to fall, her bottom lip trembling. The sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so broken—it kills me. Rage and helplessness war inside me. What did they do to her? Who hurt her this way? I want to tear apart the world to make it right, but all I can do is hold her, offering what little comfort I can.

I pull her against my chest, letting her cry into me, my arms wrapped tightly around her. She feels so small, so fragile, and it’s tearing me apart. My angel… she shouldn’t have to bear this weight alone. I press a soft kiss to her forehead as her sobs subside, wiping away the remnants of her tears gently.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you’re not ready,” I whisper, my voice soft but steady. “But just know, you can trust me. No matter what, I’m here for you.”

She leans her head against my shoulder, silent, but her presence is enough for now. I reach into the bag, pulling out the hot wings and two bottles of coke. When I offer her a wing, she looks at it as if she’s never seen one before, turning it in her hand like it’s something precious. I grin at her, the sight warming my heart. “Try one. They’re called hot wings,” I say, biting into mine with relish.

She takes a tentative bite, and her eyes widen with surprise before she starts devouring it, she only has a few. There’s something so pure in her reaction, but it’s also bittersweet. Her appetite is smaller now, and it makes my chest tighten, knowing that something—or someone—changed her. What did they do to her?

I hand her a bottle of coke, and the delight that spreads across her face when the fizz hits her tongue makes me smile. “How did you know this was my favorite combination?” she asks, her eyes blazing with a fire I haven’t seen in so long. For a moment, the old her is right there, shining through. But then, confusion flickers across her face, and she rubs her head, her fingers tangling in her hair. “Sorry, that didn’t make sense… I’ve never had anything like this before.”

She looks down, sadness darkening her expression again. I want to tell her—tell her that she’s the one who showed me this meal, that it’s a part of our past together. But I hold back. I don’t want to overwhelm her. She’s so close, the pieces of her memory almost falling into place. That spark of recognition, it was there, however brief. I just need to help her remember.