The Greek's Unknown Bride

She remembered now.

She remembered everything.

Apollo was barely conscious when he felt Sasha wriggle out from underneath him, every touch of her body against his sending fresh flutters of need into his blood. Again. Theos.

He flipped onto his back just as he saw a sliver of pale curve of skin disappear into the bathroom and out of sight.

He was stupefied in the aftermath of one of the most erotic encounters of his life. The fact that the other most erotic encounter had been with the same woman made an uneasiness prickle over his skin.

But then his whole body went still when he heard the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. He sprang out of bed and went to the doorway. The toilet was discreetly tucked away behind a wall and something held him back from intruding. ‘Sasha? Are you okay?’

Nothing. Then a weak-sounding ‘I’m okay, I’ll be out in a minute.’

Apollo’s mind raced. Had he been so consumed with his own insatiable need that he’d assumed Sasha had been with him all the way? He went cold—had he? But no. He could remember her nails digging into his hands as she’d begged him to keep going.

‘Don’t stop.’

He pulled a pair of sweats out of a drawer and put them on. He went back over to the bathroom door. Now he could hear the shower running—also hidden from view by a glazed glass wall. He paced back and forth for what seemed like ages, and then the water finally stopped.

He gave her a few minutes to get out, dry herself. He heard nothing. Impatience and something that felt like a tendril of fear made him say, ‘Sasha? Are you sure you’re—?’

But then suddenly she appeared, enveloped in a white towelling robe, and

Apollo sucked in a breath. She looked like a ghost. Ashen.

Her hair hung in wet tendrils over her shoulders and the red looked dark against the white robe covering her body. He stepped back so she could come into the bedroom. She scooted past him, her eyes huge. Haunted.

Apollo’s hands fell to his sides. ‘What is going on, Sasha?’

She’d backed away into a corner, looking at him but not really seeing him. It was eerie. And then her gaze focused on him and her saw her throat move. She said in a broken-sounding voice, ‘That’s just it. I’m not Sasha.’

Apollo shook his head as if that might help him understand what she was saying. ‘I’m sorry, what are you talking about?’

He noticed that she was trembling violently now. He cursed and went towards her, catching her hands. They were icy. Her teeth were chattering.

He drew her down to sit in a chair and knelt before her. Concern punched him in the gut. ‘Should I get a doctor?’

She shook her head. ‘N-no. I don’t... I think it’s just sh-shock. I can remember ev-everything. My memory. It’s back.’

Apollo went very still. He’d actually forgotten for a moment. A cold finger traced down his spine. He’d become so used to this Sasha. He forced himself to focus. ‘Are you in pain? Is your head hurting?’

She shook her head, more hair slipping over her shoulder. She looked very young. She looked scared.

He stood up. ‘If I leave you for a minute, will you be okay?’

She nodded jerkily. ‘I think so.’

She watched Apollo leave the room. She felt numb. She didn’t even feel herself trembling but she could hear her teeth. She clamped her mouth shut and tried to wrap her head around what had just happened.

It had been the way Apollo had said, ‘Sasha, look at me.’

At that moment in her head, a very clear voice had said, But I’m not Sasha.

And then, when he’d said Sasha again, everything in her had rejected it, even as a powerful climax had torn her apart.

As if she’d known all along but had just blocked it out—she now knew everything. All the pieces of the puzzle were sliding back into horrific place.

She heard a noise and looked up to see Apollo return. He was holding a bottle and two glasses.