Page 32 of Dragon Thief of New York
“She forgot again, didn’t she?” Lincoln says from the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” Otto answers. “We’ll deal with it. Go back to sleep.”
The man I don’t know squeezes his eyes shut as Lincoln’s footsteps retreat down the hall. Otto gives his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Go shower, Damian. She’s already forgotten, doesn’t matter if she forgets again. I’ll calm her down, and when you’re done, we can explain and start over.”
“But…” The man—Damian, I guess—looks downcast and a little lost, but then his eyes meet Otto’s. “She remembered. I swear she remembered. When she first woke up, she remembered.”
Otto gives him a confused look before swinging his attention back toward me. “So what happened? Did you go pee and forget to stick together or something?”
What the hell is he talking about?
“No. We just…” Damian buries his face in his hands. “I don’t understand. I was with her the whole time.” He looks up at me, his gaze pleading. “You really don’t remember who I am?”
Tilting my head, I study him more closely. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it. He has a friendly face, the kind that feels trustworthy despite all the evidence making him seem very suspect. I would definitely pick him up if I saw him at a bar on a girl’s night out. He’s attractive, but has a sort of boy-next-door charm to him. Although, that beard is all grown-man-masculinity. He’s probably about my age, but his eyes are so full of pain it makes him seem older.
“We’ve met before?” I ask.
Damian covers his face, shoulders shaking. “I can’t. I… I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never meant for this to—it shouldn’t have happened. You aren’t supposed to forget when I’m still with you. Fuck, I didn’t… I swear you wanted to…” His voice breaks as he tumbles off the bed, stark naked, grabbingclothes from the floor, tripping as he steps into his pants. “I’m so sorry.”
Stunned, all I can do is stare at him as he flees the room.
“Where are you going?” Otto jumps out of bed, stopping Damian in the doorway. The way Otto touches Damian is so intimate my stomach flutters in a way I can’t fully explain.
“Call me later,” Damian says. The two share a look I can’t understand, and then he’s gone.
I blink a few times. Why am I on the floor? I don’t remember getting out of bed. My nightstand clock gives off a red glow that shows 5:30am. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour. “Otto… what’s going on?”
My backside aches like I fell on it, and I shiver, naked apart from the thin sheet pulled against my chest. Did I fall out of bed?
Otto sighs heavily. “Guess we’ve reset again.” He offers me his hand and helps me up. “Come on, beauty, let’s get you cleaned up.”
His comment and the upward movement make me realize there’s a thick stickiness sliding down my inner thighs. “Did you fuck me in my sleep?!”
“Um…” He rubs the back of his neck. “No.”
“Then why the hell am I… leaking?” I rub my thighs together, more wetness dripping out of me, slicking the skin.
“Really good dream?” He shrugs and gives me a look like he’s wondering if I’ll buy that answer.
I put my hands on my hips. “Explain. Now!”
So, he does. And by the end, I’m sitting beside him on the bed, crying. “Poor Damian.”
“Yeah.” Otto pulls me into his arms.
“We have to fix this.” I can’t keep putting that man through my‘resets,’ as Otto’s calling them. “But why did I forget him when we were still together?”
“I don’t know, beauty. Maybe…” He shakes his head. “No, I really don’t know. We don’t understand rejected mates and how the magic works. It doesn’t happen very often and hasn’t happened in a very long time—at least, not that I know of. Apart from you two, I guess. But no one knew about that either.”
I stop his rambling with a hand on his thigh. “So, what do we do?”
“Well, let’s start with showering and getting Lincoln some breakfast. Then we can call Damian and figure out a plan.”
Otto drags me into the bathroom, where he washes my hair and body with a care that nearly makes me break into tears again.I’m not usually so emotional, but the past twenty-four hours have been a lot, and even though I don’t remember theseresetsI can tell they’re affecting me. I feel wobbly and off-balance.
A lot of men I know would probably take advantage of an emotional woman, naked in the shower, but Otto just cleans me off without trying to press for more. He’s sweet as he wraps a towel around my shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
