The things she wants to forget

*Zac*
I stare at the canopy, while Callie dozes, snuggled against my side. All blood had drained from her face with my words, and I regretted them the moment I spoke them, bringing my loss to a place where she doesn’t want it to be.

But it is true. How can I have forgotten what we had together?

I remember every detail of every woman with whom I have been intimate until the moment I had tea with Djuna that long-ago day. I remember every encounter, every cry, every spark of pleasure. And I know everyone pales when compared with what I have experienced with Callie. None was as tight or as hot. None held onto me as though she would die if she released her hold. None carried me to a realm of sensations where everything else has ceased to exist except for the two of us.

She is perfection, she is radiance, she is my wife.

For the first time, I am convinced I did not make a mistake in marrying her. There is so much about her that I admire, that I enjoy.

I was wrong. I have tried to identify exactly what it is about her that draws me in… and it is everything. Everything. The last I discovered tonight quite simply tops it all off nicely.

And I have forgotten her, forgotten that we might have had a night like this. What the bloody hell else have I forgotten? What else that is as important as she is?

While one arm holds her securely against me, with the hand of the other I press the scar on my face. I thought I forgot only battles and blood and men dying. Then I discovered that I forgot a nurse whom I left with my child. But now I realize it is so much more. I lost moments of joy, moments of laughter, moments of pleasure that far exceeded anything I have ever experienced.

It isn’t fair. I want those moments back. I want to know what happened during those two years of my life. I need to know. I want to regain what I have lost.

Twisting my head, I glance down on her sleeping form. Her coppery hair sticks up at odd angles, much as mine does first thing in the morning. Her auburn lashes rest gently on her cheeks. She breathes softly. Her balled up fist rests on the hollow of my stomach. Neither of us had bothered to put on our clothes. Our flesh warms the other.

It had been cold in the hospital from what I had experienced after waking without my memories. She and I would have created a fire that would have burned through the night and quite possibly longer. I have always been angry about what I lost, but never so much as now, when I realize exactly what has been taken from me.

Moments with her. Words spoken, passion shared. I want to know what the first smile she bestowed upon me looked like. Had she flirted with me or had I pursued her?

I would have pursued her. I am certain of it. And she would have resisted. She is too good. She had left her country behind, to return with nightmares. Her motives had been altruistic. She comes from a good home, she had resisted my attentions at my brother's castle. Yes, she had been hesitant to accept what I offered. But I have worn her down, somehow.

The night the men attacked her.

Bastards. If I ever lay eyes on them again, I will give them what for.

Only I damn well don’t remember what they look like.

Her life is tangled with mine. It is a blessing and a curse. I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten her with child. I would have never seen her again. And if I have . . . I would have not known who she was, not known what we shared.

There is the true tragedy of my affliction. On the street, I may run into someone who has saved my life and I would ignore him because I wouldn’t recognize him. I should buy him a drink. Hell, I should offer him a night with a beautiful woman. And instead, I would casually stroll by as though the man was nothing.

The not knowing eats at me. More so now than ever before.

I need to know everything that has transpired during those two lost years.

*Calliope*
Although I am sore in places that have been stretched and contorted during our lovemaking, I awake feeling marvelous. I open my eyes to find Zac staring down on me. Sunlight eases in through a part in the draperies to glint over his hair, to mark the sharp planes of his beloved face.

All my fears are gone. I have survived the night. Our relationship has survived. No more worries that he will realize I have not given birth to his son.

Everything will be all right now. We will live happily ever after.

Smiling warmly, he trails his finger between my breasts. “I do so love waking up next to you in the morning."

“I do so love having you wake up next to me in the morning." I mumble.

“No nightmares last night?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nary a one."

“Good.” Gently, tenderly he kisses my lips. “I was thinking of having breakfast delivered to us in bed.”

“I do appreciate the way you think." I tell him.

“Are you sore this morning?"

I feel the heat blushing my cheeks with the reminder of all that has transpired between us last night. “A little. To be expected, I suppose.”

“We'll rest today then."

“I’m not an invalid.”

He tilts his head. “All right then. Perhaps we'll take a ride over the estate. Check things out."

“That would be lovely. "

“Very good.” He grins.

For several minutes he simply draws patterns over my flesh with his finger, creating languorous sensations. I can feel the passion simmering just below the surface. Perhaps I shouldn't have admitted to being sore.

“What were the first words I ever said to you?” he asks.

“Pardon?” I ask.

“The first words I ever said to you. What were they? ”

I lick my lips, trying not to let on that his answer bothers me. “Water. I need some water.”

“I was in the hospital."

Everything within me stills as a frisson of fear goes through me. “Yes. Are you remembering, then?"

Has the cataclysm of our lovemaking shaken the memories loose?

“No, but I'm thinking that maybe I can rebuild the memories. If I know what happened, what was said, then perhaps I could envision it.”

“What does it matter? We have now. That's what's important."

“I have so many memories that are gone. Moments with you.”

“But if you spend your time looking back, you'll miss making memories now. So you’ll have fewer of them."

His brow furrows. “If I didn't know better, I would think you didn't want me to remember.”

“Now you’re being silly. Of course I'd be delighted if you remember." My first true lie to him. “But the memories should come of their own accord. You shouldn't take up precious time trying to recreate them. If you do, you might not have time for this…”

With a boldness that surprises me, I straddle his hips.

“I thought you were sore."

“Tender . . . but willing."

“I don't wish to hurt you.”

“Then live with me now in the present." Before he can respond, I latch my mouth onto his with near desperation. I want him to stop interrogating me about our time together in the hospital. For me, it was a place of horrific memories, except for the night I spent with him. But even it had begun badly.

Three men. Drunk. Filled with lust.

I bite Zac’s shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force to make him curse and grab my head, cradling my face between his large palms.

“What the devil"

“I don't want to think about it,” I say. “Don’t you understand? I want to be like you. I want to forget every moment that I was there. Please.” I kiss where I nipped him. An apology. “Please.”

He cups the back of my head, his eyes earnest. “It’s what I've lost with you that I can’t stand not having.”

“We'll make new memories. The ones worth having were only a few hours of one night. Everything else is rubbish. Please, let us just have now.”

He levers up to his elbows, bend my head toward him, and takes my mouth with an urgency that gives me hope that he will leave the past behind. I don’t want him to remember it. I will do nothing to help him remember.

I feel his arousal tapping against my backside.

As he drops back down, I press kisses to his chest. To each scar. I wish he didn't have them. But they are safe, because I don’t know how they came to be. They don’t detract from his beauty.

He is all sinewy muscle, in spite of the fact that he has been recovering. I feel his muscles rippling as he caresses me.

Then he lifts me up, guides me down, and I welcome the fullness of him.

Here, here, here is where I can forget.

I ride him fast and hard. I watch his face. Watch the pleasure darken his eyes. His jaw is tight. His nostrils flared. His teeth clenched.

He drives into me over and over. The pleasure mounts. Cascades through me, to my fingertips, to my toes.

And then beyond.

I cry out with the force of it, hearing his guttural grunt, feeling his final driving thrust. We have peaked at the same time, completely and absolutely as one.

Falling forward, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “That is a far better memory than anything that happened in the war."

His response is to kiss the top of my head and drift off to sleep. I can only hope that I have convinced him.