The Forgotten Bond

Chapter 2.

Ash’s mind raced, heart thudding against his ribcage as if it sought to escape the fresh agony of Petra’s gaze by bursting out of his chest. — A look that was so familiar, yet completely devoid of recognition. The air in the grand hall felt thick, his lungs straining for breath while all the attention was on them.

Petra tilted her head, studying him as if she really was meeting him for the first time in her life. “So, are you going to introduce yourself?”

He could almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, if it wasn’t slicing right through him. Ash cleared his throat, struggling to maintain composure under the scrutiny of the curious onlookers. His eyes darted around the room, searching for support from anyone, but no one remotely close to him was there. None of the Alphas and Lunas present had ever seen him with Petra. They’d been married for just a year, and during that time, he’d never gotten the chance to take her to any of these mingling events. Everyone knew his wife left him, but no one knew what she looked like. If only his Queen, Riannon, was here, she could have helped him, but right now, he was on his own with this cruel twist of fate.

His eyes fixed on Petra’s neck, searching for his last hope — his own mark, and at that moment, every fibre of his being tightened.

Her hand fluttered to an ugly scar, so thick it covered the marking spot, completely erasing his mark. There was no sign of their past there, nothing he could cling to.

“We need to speak,” she said softly and nodded toward a nearby passage, suggesting they found a room with more privacy. “What is your name again?”

Her words stung more than any wound he had suffered as an Alpha. He’d spent every minute of every day thinking of her, and she didn’t even remember his name. How cruel was that?

His jaw clenched involuntarily as he wrestled with the tempest inside him. “Ash. Asher Jones.”

Not a single emotion went through her face upon hearing this, and that hurt even more.

A champagne glass clinked, diverting attention elsewhere as one of the Alphas prepared for a speech, Ash grasped her hand, pulling her away from the crowds who’d already lost interest in them.

In the dark corridor, he tried one door, finding it locked. Then he tried another, with the same result, until the third one opened into what looked like a private library.

“After you,” Ash gestured for Petra to walk in, and she furrowed her brows.

“Aren’t you at least interested in my name?” she asked, slight bitterness lacing her words.

“I know your name,” he muttered, and only then did she walked in, holding her head high.

***

Petra straightened her back, trying to control her emotions. She had imagined meeting her mate many times, but she had never envisioned anything like this.

Asher looked like he’d gone through a war just yesterday and smelled of whisky so much that she felt like they were inside a barrel full of it. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his hair looked like he’d brushed it with his fingers. His shirt was missing two buttons at the top, revealing his chiselled chest, which she needed to stop looking at.

He wasn’t Alpha material, but despite all of this, she was drawn to him like a moth to a fire. This was dangerous.

“Where are you from, Asher?” she asked, trying to control her tone because it felt like her voice would break at any moment. So much for making useful connections today.

“The West,” he replied, trying not to cringe at her using his full name and adjusting his shirt as if he realised how she was looking at him. “I am— I am Alpha of the Silver River pack.” He paused and added, “And the right hand of Queen Riannon Stormhold.”

Petra licked her dry lips, and he almost whimpered at the sight, barely controlling himself. She was so close, but what was he supposed to do now?

“Have you heard of my pack?” he asked her, trying to find out if she remembered anything at all.

“Sorry, but no,” the woman offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m not an expert in the Western packs. It’s something to work on.”

“There is always time to learn,” he took a step towards her, but she retreated towards the other end of the room.

“Well, Asher, I think we should discuss something.” She pivoted, her back now facing him, and an ominous sensation tightened in his chest like a cold hand grasping his heart. “You said you know my name, but let me introduce myself properly. I am Petra Biernat, the new Alpha of the Blue Forest pack in the North.”

“That means that your father—”

“He died just recently,” her shoulders tightened, and he decided not to press her.

“Listen, Asher, it’s an incredible honour to be your mate, but you probably already understand how complicated this is.”

Ash’s gaze didn’t waver. He noted the authority in her posture, a stark contrast to the vulnerability and gentleness he remembered. “Complicated doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Petra continued, turning to peer at him. “I am a new Alpha and a female at that. My position is already tenuous, and I owe it to my people to be as good an Alpha as my father was. We are one of the biggest lycan-led packs in the North. My responsibilities are endless, and I imagine yours are, too.”

He could already see where she was going with this, and his mind frantically searched for a way out.

“You’re suggesting we reject each other?” Ash’s voice held an edge, his wolf bristling beneath his skin at the thought.

“Mutual rejection is the best way,” Petra nodded. “They say it’s quick and much less painful when we do it together rather than when one of us—”

She swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

I like him, Vesta purred in her head. Don’t do this. He is a work in progress, sure, but—

How do you imagine a life with a Western Alpha mate would go? Petra cut her off. Would you give up our pack and hand it over to one of the assholes who have already tried to overthrow me?

Never! Vesta bared her teeth.

Exactly, Petra agreed. A male Alpha would never sacrifice his position to be a—a what? What could he even be to me? A Luna?

Vesta went silent.

You know I am right; Petra was ready to finish their short debate. It’s best to end it now before we both get attached.

I still like him, the wolf said quietly. He seems so— familiar.

It will stop the moment the rejection takes place. At least, that’s what they say.

Ash knew what she was doing by how she scrunched her nose while arguing with her wolf. He’d learned those little things about her early on and was glad this hadn’t changed.

Vesta wouldn’t let her! Thor growled possessively.

I hate to break it to you, but if Vesta remembered, so would Petra, Ash crossed his arms over his chest.

Wolves feel their mates, sense them. It’s different for us than for you.

I sure hope so, because this is our best chance right here!

Petra’s gaze focused on him again, and he tried to curl his lips into a friendly smile despite feeling like he would die if she rejected him again.

The pain of rejection was unbearable. He’d never accepted it, which left them bound to each other, but his heart had ached ever since.

Ash straightened up, a rigid line of control snapping into place.

“We can’t do this out here,” he said, his voice low and even. “I don’t know who told you that mutual rejection doesn’t hurt. It hurts like hell, and different individuals react differently. It can get ugly pretty fast, and we are in a house full of Alphas. Just how many of them would want to use your weakness tonight?”

Petra’s gaze flickered with hesitation. She hadn’t thought of that.

“Fine,” she tapped her pretty little fingers over the mantelpiece. “Then we meet tomorrow and do it.”

“I am afraid I have an important meeting tomorrow,” Ash tried to sound nonchalant.

“Will you be free in 2 or 3 days?” she asked.

“I will need to check my schedule, but— probably.” He rubbed his chin, cursing himself for not shaving earlier today.

“Great,” Petra breathed the word in relief, not realising she was piercing his heart with a knife. “Then let’s meet in my pack—”

“Oh, shoot!” Ash cleared his throat again. “If I am required to travel, then I can only do it in a month or so. Should we stay in contact until then?”

Hearing this, she visibly tensed. A month would only strengthen their bond and pull even if they didn’t see each other. Everyone knew this much.

“Can I come to your territory then?” She pursed her lips, her displeasure with the arrangement evident, though she had no better alternative to propose.

“If you insist,” he shrugged. “You’re always welcome in the Silver River pack.”

“Thanks.” She tried to remain friendly. “I will come with a few warriors, of course.”

“Of course,” he nodded in agreement, “they will be welcomed too, but I give you my word. Their services will not be needed. Mate or not, I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

For the first time today, Petra gave him the smile he knew so well. The one that was genuine and came from the heart.

“I’m glad we could come to this understanding,” she accepted it quickly and prepared to leave.

“Petra,” his voice reached her, a note of urgency in it, just as she reached the door.

“Yes?” Concern etched itself across her face as if she was scared he changed his mind.

“What happened to your neck?” Ash asked bluntly, and he noticed that her eyes immediately lowered to the expensive carpet she was standing on.

“I— I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “It was an accident, or so I’ve been told. I don’t remember it, though.”

“Did someone— hurt you?” He could barely say the words.

“Not that I know of,” Petra replied stiffly, forcing her lips to curl again. “See you in two days, Asher.”

***

Ash paced the length of his office the next morning, the weight of Petra’s blank stare still pressing on his mind. One of the walls, adorned with their giant portrait, seemed to mock him now— a reminder of a time when his world made sense. Petra’s pink curls cascaded down her shoulders and his arms as he hugged her from behind, kissing her temple. They were so happy that day…

He reached for the phone, dialled a number etched into his memory, and waited as the line crackled to life.

Kyle’s voice on the other side of the line seemed surprised. “I didn’t think I would ever hear from you again.”

“What can I say,” Ash grunted, “desperate times. It came to my attention that you intentionally omitted a critical piece of information last time we spoke.”

“Omitted is such a harsh word,” Kyle coughed. “I specifically told you that I can only share what I told you and that it was the truth to the best of my knowledge—”

“How very lawyer of you!” Ash gritted his teeth.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to be on her side. She is like a daughter to my wife, and I have already risked my marriage by speaking to you.”

“You forgot to tell me my wife has amnesia!” Thor growled, overpowering his host. Ash fought him for control while there was some kind of commotion on the other side as well.

“You are lucky we spoke to you at all!” Evelyn, Petra’s closest and most important friend who was like a mother to her, seethed. “How dare you—”

“Evelyn,” he greeted her, voice tight.

The reply was curt, frost edging each word. “Asher. Leave the girl alone.”

He braced himself against the desk, his knuckles whitening. “What happened to her? Tell me the truth this time!”

A pause hung between them, thick with tension. “Petra is our Alpha now,” Evelyn responded carefully. “What she chooses to forget is her business.”

His jaw clenched. “Chooses? You make it sound so—”

“Yes, Asher, this was her choice! She told us all she was going to leave you and that the marriage was a mistake! She said she would take care of it all and then we found her beaten to within an inch of her life right after. She barely survived. You’re lucky Queen Savannah begged us not to ruin the Alliance by seeking our revenge. If she had died—” Evelyn’s voice broke, but it only became colder when she resumed, “I would have spent the rest of my days hunting you down until I did the same thing to you!”

He slammed his hand against the desk, frustration boiling over. “I would never hurt Petra! I woke from a coma a year ago, Evelyn! The last thing I remember is Petra rejecting me and driving myself to the North to fight for her! Then everything else is a blur.”

Evelyn said nothing.

“I’ve lost time, and now Petra looks through me like I’m a ghost! She recognised me as her mate last night as if it was the first time!”

Evelyn’s breath caught audibly over the line. “You saw her?”

“Yes,” Ash pressed on, desperation lending force to his words. “What’s happened to her? Tell me who did this!”

There was a rustle on the other end—a sign of discomfort or perhaps movement—and then Evelyn spoke again. “Ash, she rejected you back then. She wanted it done and was very vocal about it. Deal with it and leave the girl alone!”

Before he could demand more, the line went dead.

Ash stared at the phone in his hand, his stomach churning, trying to digest all the new information.

When he woke up after his accident, he’d driven to the North as soon as he was able to, but he was denied access to Petra’s pack.

Her father and his warriors had beaten him and his Gamma, who’d accompanied him, to a pulp.

{“Leave my daughter alone!” Alpha Biernat spat on him when he was done, his tall frame towering over bleeding Ash as rain streamed from the sky like it was the end of the world. “She’s told you everything she had to say. It’s over, and you are lucky we’re letting you leave. Come again, and I will change my mind about this decision. I will not care about the Alliance between our countries if you don’t leave my daughter alone. Every word she told you was true! Forget that you were ever her mate and husband!”}

The door to his office creaked open, and he turned sharply, watching Harper Thorn, a slender brunette with rich brown curls reaching her shoulders, freeze at the entrance.

“Ash, are you okay?” she asked, brows knitted together. “I heard you screaming.”

“Harp, tell me what you remember about that day.” Ash gestured for her to take a seat.

“Again?” She let out an annoyed breath but obeyed. “Maybe it’s time to get over it once and for all?”

“Yes. Again,” Ash ignored her words, rubbing the stubble on his chin. He had to find out what happened back then. For the first time, he had hope again. “Start from the beginning.”

***

It was still dark when Petra returned home. She chose to stay in her dress as she navigated the familiar corridors, seeking refuge in the one place where colours spoke louder than words and brushes could paint away any pain—her art studio tucked away in the northern wing of her residence.

The scent of oil paint and turpentine greeted her as she entered, a balm to her frayed senses. Canvases lined the walls, each a testament to the emotions she’d wrestled onto them: anger, joy, sorrow—all splashed in vibrant hues and bold strokes.

She approached an unfinished piece, its surface a chaos of colour that mirrored the turmoil in her heart. Her art was so different from her usual bubbly and bright self. It was dark and twisted. Not to everyone’s taste. Hence, she rarely showed it to anyone. She picked up a brush, not bothering to put an apron on, but before it could touch the canvas, a sound caught her attention—a shift in the air signalling she was not alone.

Turning slowly, she found a man seated in a corner shadowed by an easel.

He rose to his feet with deliberate grace, his features obscured by the dim light filtering through half-closed blinds. She recognised the reflections in his glasses, breathing out in relief.

He stepped forward, and Petra went back to her painting.

“What are you doing here, Xavier?” she asked, trying to figure out what was missing on the canvas.

“The usual,” he stretched his hand with a book in it, and Petra smiled understandingly. He was the only one she allowed inside this place because he knew how to stay quiet. He was as tortured and broken as her and needed the same sort of refuge.

“Did you at least finish it?” she asked.

“No, I fell asleep waiting for you. How did it go?” Xavier took his glasses off and tried to clean the lenses on the edge of his shirt.

“Not as I’d hoped,” Petra admitted. “However, I have made some important decisions.”

“Really?” He leaned against a nearby column that was covered with splashes of paint. Art became her therapy after the memory loss, which she had accepted, but it wasn’t always peaceful.

“Yes,” Petra signed and took the canvas of the easel. She hated how it was going and had to start fresh.

“Don’t—” Xavier barely managed to voice his protest, but the painting was already burning in the massive fireplace.

“I’ll draw you a new one,” Petra promised. “And your idea from earlier was a good one.”

“Which one?” Xave fixed the glasses on his nose, helping her to unpack a new canvas from the pack in the corner. “I have many good ideas.”

“You wish!” she chuckled. “But I am thinking on it more and more. You were right. The best choice for me would be to take a fake lower-ranked husband. No one will be able to question my claim then.”

“Told you so,” he grinned at her. “Do you want me to make a list?”

“I think I already have someone in mind.”