Their Secret Obsession (A Reverse Harem) by Pippa Moon novel Chapter 272

Kane POV

***Continued memory***

"And really, how was that begging? Fluffy does better than that, and they are only half mutt." I bit back the retort, realising I was treading dangerous ground. After a tense moment, he straightened and adjusted his cufflinks.

"I think we're done here."

"No, I can do better," I beseeched him. "Astaroth, please, can you help me? I miss her too much. I need her to remember me and our bond," I implored, the words bitter on my tongue. He raised an eyebrow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Is that so?" He glanced downward, then back up, his eyes commanding me to kneel and surrender the little bit of dignity I was holding on to. Swallowing my pride, I complied, both knees hitting the scorched ground.

"Astaroth, I beg, please, can you return her memories to her? I can't live without her. I miss her so much it's killing me." I admitted feeling the tug in my chest.

"Killing you?" He laughed, gripping a handful of flesh from the decaying creatures beside him and pulling it off without a care; he threw the rotten meat at my feet and shook his head. "That is what death smells like, my friend.. and you smell like desperation more than death." He laughed, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Please.. I need her to remember.. I can't get any time with her... I can't cope without her." I revealed the words painful to admit.

Without warning, he seized a handful of my hair, yanking my head back so I was forced to look directly into his fiery gaze. The heat from his eyes seemed to scorch my very soul.

"No," he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. Roughly he released me with a shove, forcing me forward so I fell onto my hands. There was no ash or heat under my hands, just plush carpet. When I looked up, I was back in my bedroom, the oppressive heat replaced by the cool darkness of night. Astaroth's parting words echoed ominously in my mind:

The words hit me like a physical blow. Closing my eyes, I released her wrist, feeling the warmth of her skin slip away along with the hope that had momentarily ignited in my heart. The crushing weight of reality settled back onto my shoulders.

As I stood there, hope fluttered weakly in my chest—a fragile ember in danger of being snuffed out. Surely, the memories couldn't just evaporate into thin air. We had just been together for over an hour, made love, shared a moment so profound that it had to leave an imprint. She couldn't forget that, could she?

The thought of her not remembering what we just shared twisted like a knife in my gut. I needed to believe that some part of her, no matter how small, still held onto the connection between us.

I gazed into Charlotte's eyes, searching desperately for any sign that she was about to say the words I longed to hear. Her eyes held a flicker of something—was it recognition? Closeness maybe? I could see emotions swirling in those depths, hints of memories perhaps fighting to surface.

Anticipation built within me, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in my ears. Perhaps she was ready to ask for her memories back, to end this torment we were both enduring. The possibility sent a surge of cautious optimism through me, and I clung to it with everything I had.