Kaelen's POV
She was different, the speech, the mannerisms, everything. Leila always knew how to make each word sting. Sometimes I had a hard time pretending not to care.
She always rubbed Selene's death in my face, until I either walked away or whipped my sword to her neck.
That's why I kept the sword just beside her bed.
But this, this version before me seemed like a polite lady pretending to be saucy.
"What do you mean by who I am?" She demanded, lifting her head to me and tipping her chin up. I spotted cracks in her expression, the slight tug of panic and fear behind her eyes.
I pressed the sword harder against her neck. A drop of blood trickled onto the steel. "I have to give you the benefits. You did try. But you can never be as annoying as Leila. Tell me who you are now, while I am still nice."
"What do you mean by who I am? Kaelen. I am your wife, Leila. Who else can I be?" She snapped. She shifted on the bed to stare up at me.
Another mistake. My lips flattened in a sneer. Leila doesn't yell at me. Her weapon was always Selene's death, and she knew how to use it.
"I will count down, and if you still won't tell me who you are by the time I get to zero, your head will be rolling on the ground," I announced.
She looked fully into my cold eyes. I let her believe through them that I meant every word. I wou;dn't kill her though, but she had to believe it.
Outwardly, she forced calm and rage, but inside, I wasn't so sure. Her hands trembled a bit. She quickly threw them between her thighs.
My gaze dropped to find her dress had slipped up, revealing smooth skin and long legs.
For a moment, something stirred inside of me, something sharp and unwelcome--desire.
There was no way in hell I would desire Leila. I killed off that errant urge instantly.
I pushed the sword tighter against her neck.
"If I am not Leila, then who am I?" She barked, face tightened to an impossible frown. "Tell me, who am I then, huh?"
"Or why don't you tell me?" I snorted. "Three." I counted. My voice rang through the room in chilling notes.
"And I am telling you I am Leila for hell's sake. I am your bloody wife."
"Two." I just continued counting.
She shifted on the bed now, her body quivering around the sword, though her eyes held defiance and resolve. "I am Leila, damn it. What do I need to do to prove to you that I am Leila?"
"Tell the truth," I grunted with disdain again. "One." I counted.
"I—" she began. Then she stopped. She grabbed her head with both hands, as if she had just suffered a headache.
A quiet cry echoed from her. It was all pretense, I thought, yet, for some reason, my sword faltered in my hands.
My wolf stirred and roared inside of me, pushing for me to comfort her, to touch her. I held back. Leila deserved nothing but my hate. I steered all my attention to the sword. It was suddenly becoming heavy in my hands.
"What…" I asked, my voice strangely low. "What is wrong?"
I ground my jaw hard as I heard myself sound concerned. Why the hell would I even care?
But when she raised her head to me again, her amber orbs looking directly into mine, I felt a bit of the coldness in me melt.
She rubbed her fingers on her temple, lips contorted in pain. "I think I have lost my memories, Kaelen. I remember you are my husband, and that I am your wife, but other than that, I don't seem to remember anything else."
How convenient. I scoffed. I understood the trick she was pulling. "And you expect me to believe that."
"I don't," she snapped. "Whether you believe it or not doesn't change the fact that I can't access my memories."
Her eyes widened dramatically now, roaming space, and she shifted uneasily. "What am I going to do now? I don't remember anything, nothing." She cried, panic stringing her voice.
I watched her, the sneer on my lips growing. I itched to call out the charade for what it was. Then I thought, why don't I do that with a professional?
I whipped the sword back and sheathed it, then strolled to the door, aware that her eyes were following me. I yelled into the empty corridor. "Fetch me the doctor."
There was a moment's delay, and then I heard the harsh crack of footsteps against the tiles far ahead.
I returned to the room to a grand performance. She panicked on the bed about her supposed lost memories, refusing to look up at me all the while.
Doctor Forrester stumbled in a minute later.
His wily eyes sparked with relief when he saw she was awake. He looked quickly at me. "How may I be of service, Alpha King?" He asked.
I threw my head to her. "She says she doesn't remember anything. Confirm it."
"Yes, my king," he bowed, then he crossed fast to her.
I folded my arms over my chest as I watched him examine her, checking her eyes, her pulse, and asking her simple questions.
Then, finally, Doctor Forrester turned to me, a frown on his face. "I am afraid, your eminence, the queen has really lost her memories. She has selective amnesia where she remembers some details and not others."
"Now you believe me." She sneered, upper lip raised in derision.
I watched her closely, studying her like I was trying to dissect the parts of an intricate machine. The Leila I knew was calmer, and cruel, and outrightly rude, but this one was a bit loud, and for some reason seemed kind.
I looked back at Doctor Forrester. I trusted him and his analysis, but I wanted to ask him if personalities could change with amnesia. I swallowed back my words and shrugged my shoulders. It doesn't matter anyway.
In fact, all this works in my favour. I nudged my head to the door as a signal, and he took it. He adjusted his medical coat and hurried out of the room.
Once I heard the door click behind him, I went to the drawer by her vanity table. I snatched up the divorce document I had kept there.
I had always had one ready, always had a new copy delivered each month for the six years she was in a coma, waiting patiently for today.
I slapped the documents between her legs. I dragged my eyes again away from the little stretch of exposed smooth skin. "Sign this, Leila," I said. "It's the divorce papers. We'll only have to pretend to still be married for a few months for the optics, and then we can go our separate ways."
She stared at the document for a moment and then at me. Then a cruel twist of her lips. "I am not signing anything."
"I thought you were considering it before."
"That was before you held a sword to my neck and called me a liar," she said spitefully, rage making her eyes jitter.
"I—" I began. I realized I was almost about to apologize, and I stopped. To hell! I will never apologize to anyone, especially not her.
"You don't have a choice, Leila. You never did. We both hate each other's guts, so why don't you sign it and give both of us our needed freedom?"
She made me a very stiff smile. "I am not signing that." She said, "The way I see it, you are trying to take advantage of my amnesia. I won't be signing that until I know fully what it is I am signing."
I wasn't surprised that she figured that out. She has always been a smart lady, until she became her late father's and then her brother's puppet.
Maybe I was taking advantage of her amnesia. The previous Leila would know that divorce was a political suicide for her and her brother. But there was more I was exploiting.
The urge for freedom I had spied in her eyes earlier. This version of her begs to be free, and that is something only I can grant.
I snatched the paper and threw it into the drawer. "You know where to get it when you finally need it, Leila, and I believe it will be soon," I said, and I crossed for the door.
A budding urge screamed inside of me, to turn, to look right into those amber orbs again, snake my gaze up that smooth expanse of bronze skin and… fuck. I shook my head to clear out the fog that was bringing in all these stupid thoughts.
"I won't be signing anything—."
"Oh! You will," I cut her off rudely over my shoulder. "And you will soon."
I paused by the doorway, "And prepare, I will be hosting a Recovery party this evening for the woman I detest the most in the world, and you are specially invited to be the guest of honour." I let my hate flow naturally now. I shut the door after me before she could get out a reply.
Damn it. My teeth clanked hard when that same burning urge that had led my eyes down her legs earlier seized me again. I couldn't desire that bitch. Not even if she was the last woman on the fucking planet. Something must be wrong with my wolf, something I needed to fix fast.
And for the first time since I knew her, I walked out, not feeling the urge to go back in and strangle her.