Chapter 317: Rich Boy

Thirty minutes later, I sat on the edge of a king-sized bed in Lysandra's suite, a children's book open in my lap. Orion and Lyra were curled up on either side of me, their small bodies pressed against mine.

By the time I reached the story's end, both children had drifted off to sleep. Orion's hand still gripped my fingers, as if ensuring I couldn't leave without waking him. Lyra had burrowed against my side, her hair spilling across my arm.

They feel safe with me here. How is that possible when I don't even remember them?

For several minutes, I simply sat there, watching their peaceful faces in the dim light from the bedside lamp. They looked so young, so vulnerable. The trust they showed in sleep—the way they'd molded their small bodies against mine—spoke of a bond deeper than memory.

Maybe love doesn't live in the mind. Maybe it lives somewhere deeper, somewhere my injury couldn't touch.

Carefully, I eased my hand free from Orion's grip and shifted away from Lyra's sleeping form. They stirred slightly but didn't wake, their breathing remaining deep and even.

I closed the door to Lysandra's suite softly behind me.

Standing in the hallway, looking at Kieran's door, a different emotion entirely took hold.

I knocked twice. Sharp, controlled raps that echoed in the empty corridor.

The door opened to reveal Lysandra. "Tristan?" Her eyebrows rose. "Is everything okay? The children—"

"They're asleep." I kept my voice flat, professional. "I thought you should know."

"Thank you." She smiled, genuine gratitude lighting her features. "That means so much. They've been having nightmares since..." She trailed off.

Since I lost my memory.

"No problem."

I should have left then. Should have said goodnight and walked the ten feet to my own room. Instead, I found myself studying the space behind her, noting how Kieran sat comfortably on the couch, a bottle of wine open on the coffee table between two glasses.

Cozy.

"Well." Lysandra glanced back at Kieran, then at me. "Thank you again for staying with them. It really helped."

"Sure."

I turned and walked away without another word, but something sharp and unpleasant twisted in my gut. They'd been alone in that room together. Drinking wine. Looking comfortable, familiar.

Why the hell do I care?

My hotel room felt sterile after the warmth of Lysandra's suite. I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it over a chair, then walked to the window. The Swiss Alps stretched endlessly in the moonlight, their peaks sharp against the star-filled sky.

Beautiful. Remote. Perfect for forgetting.

So why couldn't I stop thinking about the casual way Kieran had draped his arm around her shoulders? Or the way she'd smiled at him with genuine affection?

I pulled out a cigarette from the pack I'd bought earlier. The nicotine helped with the headaches.

The flame from my lighter cast brief shadows across the dark room. I took a long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before releasing it toward the ceiling.

This is ridiculous. She's nothing to me. Less than nothing. An ex-wife I can't even remember marrying.

I took another drag, harder this time. The cigarette burned down faster than it should have.

I need a drink.

The hotel bar occupied the ground floor's east wing, all dark wood and amber lighting that gave everything a warm, intimate glow. Jazz music drifted from hidden speakers while couples murmured over cocktails at small tables.

I claimed a corner stool at the bar itself, putting my back to the wall. "Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender—a young Swiss man with perfect English—set down a crystal tumbler filled with golden liquid. "Rough night?"

I didn't answer. The whiskey burned pleasantly as it went down, starting to dissolve the tight knot of irritation in my chest.

Why the hell does seeing him touch her make me want to commit violence?

I signaled for another whiskey, determined to drown whatever misplaced protective instinct was screwing with my head.

That's when I saw her.

My entire body went rigid. The whiskey glass paused halfway to my lips as I stared across the bar.

Lysandra stood near the far end, but this wasn't the same woman from upstairs. This version wore a deep blue silk slip dress that skimmed her thighs, the fabric catching the amber light with every movement. Her hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.

Jesus Christ.

My wolf exploded into consciousness, flooding my system with primal hunger so intense it made my vision blur.

Mine! Mine! Protect her! Claim her!

"One dry martini, please." Her voice carried across the space between us, silk and smoke wrapped in proper vowels.

The bartender smiled at her with obvious appreciation. "Coming right up, beautiful."

I gritted my teeth. The casual endearment from a stranger made my hands clench into fists.

Get a grip. She can drink wherever she wants. With whoever she wants.

But my body wasn't listening to logic. Every cell screamed at me to go to her. My eyes tracked her smallest movements—the way her fingers curved around the martini glass, the brief flash of her tongue when she tasted it.

Control yourself. She's dangerous. Your instincts are telling you to run for a reason.

My wolf snarled at that reasoning, pushing harder against my consciousness.

Then why does every part of me want to protect her? Possess her? Why does she smell like home?

I was still wrestling with my internal conflict when a new player entered the scene.

A tall man in an expensive suit approached Lysandra with confidence. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the kind of Nordic good looks that probably opened doors wherever he went.

"A beautiful woman drinking alone? That's practically criminal." His accent was refined Swiss-German, the kind that suggested old money and elite education.

Lysandra turned, offering him a polite but distant smile. "I'm waiting for someone."

Kieran, I sneered. Of course she is.

"The person you're waiting for is obviously a fool for keeping you waiting." The man moved closer, his intention crystal clear. "I'm Jake. I own the resort down the valley."

Rich boy showing off. How original.