Broken Heart 08 Must Love Lycans Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt lost. No, more like I wasn’t wearing the right skin. That my true identity was somewhere else, and I needed to find it. My heart started thudding erratically, but I didn’t want to disturb his thought processes by yanking my hand away. (Also, it felt nice to have my hand held. It had been a really long time since I’d felt the touch of another, and certainly not one so tender.) I decided to let the moment unfold, no matter how unwise.
    “And when you were lost, did you come across something that reminded you of home? Something that comforted you so much that you could fight off the panic, the fear?”
    I could answer yes to those questions, too. Instead, I asked, “Are you afraid, Damian?”
    His brows dipped down and his eyes turned icy. “No.” He leaned down and sniffed my wrist. Then, much to my shock, his tongue flicked against my pulse. “That’s how you smell to me, Kelsey,” he said in an aching voice. “Like I have come home.”

Chapter 2
    D amian’s gaze was so haunted that I couldn’t look away. I wasn’t sure why he’d incorporated me into his delusion—or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe I was a reminder of someone he’d known. Sense memories could be very powerful. Perhaps I wore the same perfume as his wife (gah!) or his mother, and he was associating me with someone important to him. This strange attraction of his might only be his injured brain trying to reconcile past with present.
    I pulled my wrist out of his gentle grip and folded my hands on my lap. I didn’t break eye contact. “Do you remember anything—even if it seems random or strange?”
    “The moon,” he said. “I remember seeing the moon.”
    The moon would be important for someone who believed himself to be a werewolf. I couldn’t be sure if this particular image was relevant to his delusion or to an actual memory. “Before you were taken?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Okay. Let’s focus on the … er, my scent. What image comes to mind?”
    “The moon,” he said again. “A forest. A castle. Home.”
    “You live in a castle?”
    He offered a half smile. “How would I know?”
    I blushed, feeling out of my element. He seemed … I don’t know. Wise and strong and experienced. He was all too aware of my discomfort. He didn’t look away, or move back even an inch. Maybe it was his way of taking control. Or maybe he wasn’t aware of his own actions. Being the stronger, the leader, was his nature. His gaze was heavy-lidded, his eyes shiny jade. Whoops. Never mind. He knew exactly how to wield his sexuality. He hadn’t forgotten how to do that. Nope.
    I took in a shuddering breath. He leaned closer. My gaze skittered along his mouth and I heard a faint sound issue from him … something like a growl. My stomach jumped, and my pulse raced. Enough! I needed to switch tactics.
    “You don’t remember your captors, or what they did to you, Damian?”
    He eased back just a little. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No.”
    “And you don’t remember being rescued, either?”
    His gaze shuttered. “No.”
    Hoo-kay, then. He didn’t like the idea of being rescued. I’d already come to the conclusion he didn’t like confinement, but then again, who did?
    “Do you know who the president is?”
    “Why would I know that? Those are human concerns.”
    Bingo. “Aren’t you human?”
    His brows slashed down and his lips thinned. “These are strange questions.” He angled closer still, and it took all my effort not to suck in an unsteady breath. “You are trying to determine if I’m crazy.”
    “Are you?”
    “I cannot remember anything. So maybe I am.”
    Trepidation crept through me. Most people suffering from delusions or other psychological disorders firmly believed in their realities. They wouldn’t admit that they were wrong, much less that they might be insane. It could be that even with amnesia Damian was operating within his delusional framework, but my instincts were whispering that all was not as it appeared.