Aurora's POV
A sharp pain bloomed in my chest as I looked at him. He didn't remember. The way he had held me, the kiss—it was all gone. To him, it was nothing more than a missing piece in a drunken night. To me, it was a memory that had rewritten my entire perception of him.
It's for the best, I told myself, clutching the edge of his oversized shirt. It's better this way. If he didn't remember, I didn't have to explain why I had kissed him back with such desperate hunger. I didn't have to admit that I had wanted him to keep going.
But God, it still hurt.
"You have to leave," Oliver said, his voice stripped of the warmth it had held last night. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere above my head. "I have an early meeting with my council, and I can't have distractions."
The word "distraction" felt like a slap.
"I understand, Alpha," I whispered.
