Page 249 of Alpha Mates

I watch my frown dissolve in my reflection, replaced by a small smile. Still, I can’t muster up the energy to play along.

“What’s my favourite colour?”

I want to tell him to stop—because I know what he’s doing—but I don’t have the heart to. I can feel his fear through the bond, and it hurts.

“Black,” I answer quietly.

“Correct. And what colour are my eyes?”

“Brownish-black. With a little gold,” I mumble. When Aiden stays silent, I peek over my shoulder and I catch him smiling, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

“Why’d you ask me that?”

“No reason,” he says with a casual shrug that doesn’t match the delight in his eyes.

Sinking back against the window, I try to get comfortable again. “I’m going to sleep—”

“Wait! What’s your earliest memory of me? Or just … any memory?” he pushes despite my rising groan. “Indulge me, please?”

Recounting a childhood memory now sounds as exhausting as early-morning patrols, but with everything Aiden’s doing for me, I try to indulge him.

“We were five or six,” I start after a moment, straining to remember the finer details. “Our parents took us to the zoo for our birthday. When we fought and they made us hold hands, you dragged me to the giraffes.”

A small, gap-toothed version of Aiden flickers behind my eyelids. “I told you we had to stay close to them, but you wouldn’t listen. I wanted to see the penguins, but you said giraffes were cooler. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever saw you so happy.”

I chuckle softly. “You looked at them like they were magical, and when I asked you why you liked them so much, you said it was because they’re so tall—and if you were that tall, you’d be able to see trouble coming from far away. I told you that was stupid, and you pushed me down some stairs.”

“I don’t remember that,” he replies.

“Of course you do.”

He laughs as he lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I mean, it sounds like me because giraffes are fucking amazing, but I don’t remember that day.”

I want to call bullshit, but when I look at him—reallylook—there’s nothing but blank amusement in his dark eyes.

Briefly glancing my way, Aiden raises a questioning brow at me. He really doesn’t remember it.

“How can you not …” The words wither on my lips as the realisation hits. He doesn’t remember the trip, the one we’d taken just before the summer he disappeared.

I knew something had happened, but preciselywhatwas still a mystery. I just knew that it’d happened back when we were kids, before I lost Oliver, before I had to take his place.

Whatever it was, it was the root of his insatiable hunger for vengeance. It had taken things from him, too. His memories. His eyes. And Goddess knew what else.

“What?” he asks, his smile fading.

I waver for a moment. “It was the summer you went on that trip with your family,” I murmur, “but … you weren’t with your family, were you?”

A heavy murk settles over our bond like a solid weight. His knuckles tighten around the wheel.

“No.”

He breathes deep, but I can scent his discomfort and dread filling the car.

I keep my eyes on him as I slide my palm overhis hand, gently prying his fingers from the wheel until I can rest it in my lap. I squeeze it gently, but don’t say anything else. He doesn’t need words right now.

Aiden’s relief is palpable as his heart begins to slow, and the quivering in his fingers eases.

I keep my eyes on him until they’re too heavy to stay open, but even when they flutter shut, I keep his hand in mine—holding on, making sure I don’t lose him as I drift away.