Michael pressed his lips to the fairy's, and nearly smiled upon learning her lips were as soft as they looked.

Not that he remembered ever wondering about such things...or thought about kissing her before.

All he wanted was a moment so brief it would have been as if it never happened. One he might occasionallylook back upon and deem as nothing until it became an inconsequential memory no longer worth remembering. But when a second turned into two, he found himself wanting more.

More time.

More her.

So instead of pulling away, his hand cupped her cheek to hold her in place. And when he felt the cold sting of her hand on his face, cupping his cheek in return, he knew she wanted that moment, too.

But it seemed that singular moment was all he was meant to have, and it was greedy of him to believe he could have more.

Because before the seconds turned to three, he felt what could only be described as a fire raging within him. It burned so hot, so fierce, so violently.

Where the fairy's touch had always been warm but never scorching, that burning sensation inside of him—a heat proving too much even for him, a wolf—brought only pain and an obvious hunger that made Michael realize it wanted to eat him alive.

He tried to pull away, but was paralyzed by fear and a blinding pain he had never felt before.

Just as he thought he might pass out—prayed to the moon Goddess he would just so he would no longer have to endure such agony any longer—the pain ceased. Images slowly began to fill his head, piecing together through the ashes of his scorched and obliterated mind. Each piece, he quickly learned, a memory.

Stumbling upon Aria's plan to use Gabriel to start a war against the Wolves and the Fae in the Woodlands.

Fleeing, but getting caught and stabbed by Aria.

Meeting the fairy and her sisters as he lay dying in the Woodlands.

The moment he first learned the fairy in the red cloak's name.

Playing a game with the fairy, where they both tried to slap each other's hands.

The moment she finally told him she was a fairy.

Their first kiss.

Making love to the fairy in one moment, and saying goodbye in the next.

Meeting her again in the Woodlands on the night of the almost war.

Gabriel biting her.

Holding her in his arms as she was dying.

Zanna telling him how to save her.

Michael fighting Gabriel to protect the fairy—his mate.

He pulled away, opened his eyes and looked down at the fairy. Her name in his head, on his tongue. The name she had not told him, but he knew with absolute certainty belonged to her. One of the four names carved into the trunk on the large oak tree—a name he had forgotten but his mind never had and tried to get him to do so night after night by showing him that very tree in his dreams.

Now, he remembered. Remembered her. Remembered them. Remembered everything.

Ellette.

He continued to stare at her—his little fairy. Her eyes were still closed, her cheeks tinted a faint pink, and lips slightly parted.

It was as if nothing had happened. As if he had not just endured the most horrific and brutal pain he had ever felt. The world around him seemed so unchanged to the point where he wondered if time itself had stopped, or if he had imagined the entire ordeal and those memories were fake. But the moment she opened her eyes and he saw they were full of tears as she stared up at him, Michael knew it had all been real.

He continued to look into them until the tears finally spilled down the sides of her face. The sight alone painfully tugged at his heart and triggered his own tears to form, but he forced himself to keep them at bay.

As much as he wanted to comfort her, a part of him wondered if it would be best to continue pretending as if he did not remember her or their past. If he told her he remembered, he feared what might happen.

Would she tell him she did not love him anymore and that was the reason she pretended not to know him in the first place? She had taken away his memories once, would she take them away again?

But if he continued the ruse, then he would have to continue pretending as if he did not love her. Want her. Need her. Like every touch and every gaze meant nothing. As if she meant nothing to him, and their present-day interactions were solely a means to a necessary and important end—one he now realized would be protecting his mother by saying goodbye to his mate forever.

Instead of reaching up to wipe away her fallen tears, Michael pulled away from her completely and laid down on his back next to her. He subtly touched his arm to hers, the only bit of contact he allowed himself to have.

"I am sorry." For leaving you behind. For leaving you alone. "I should not have." Forgotten you. Left you.

"And I should not have kissed you back."

Her reply hit him right in the heart, as it confirmed he was right to feel his earlier fear. If she regretted kissing him, what else had she regretted? Meeting him? Saving him? Loving him?

He turned his head to look at her, hoping she would look back at him but she did not. So he turned his head back, and lifted to a seated position. He scooped up the bird that had joined his side in one hand and stood up. He then offered out the other hand to her. "Let me take you home."

She looked up at him before lifting herself up to a seated position and brushing the snow off the back of her arms. "That will be unnecessary. I am fine."

He absolutely did not want to leave her just yet. Even though he was confused and mad she had not been truthful with him the entire time, he could not leave her. Not yet.

"You are not fine, and I do not trust you will not pass out again. I will not leave until I know you are at least somewhere safe."

She hesitated for a few seconds before taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. When she let go first, he immediately missed her touch, but what could he do other than bite his tongue and allow it. What else could he do but continue to pretend as if they were nothing more than just a fairy and a wolf.

* * *

Michael stepped into the living area of the small cabin. As his eyes scanned over the moonlit room, his first thought was that it looked just as he remembered—the good memories along with the bad.

When he had refused to leave before seeing Ellette home first, he had not realized she was, in fact, home until she waved her hands, uttered a spell under her breath and revealed the cabin behind them. It had taken seconds of looking around the clearing before he realized why it had initially looked so familiar—his entire time in the Woodlands had been spent in that cabin in the clearing.

It had been their beginning and their end.

And the room was where they first met face to face, shared their first kiss, and where he claimed her after they professed their love to each other. But it was also the last place he had seen her. Where he had left her to fight Gabriel to the death to save her. He was standing in the very spot where he had chosen his mate over his brother.

He looked behind him to see Ellette standing at the doorway, half in yet half out and staring down at the wooden floorboards. She did not look uncomfortable with him being there, just guarded. But if she was silently hoping he would leave, he had no intention of doing so just yet. He just wanted a little more time with her, enough to find out why and how she could so easily keep the truth from him.

He pulled his eyes away from her and walked over to the window to the left of the fireplace. He placed the bird on the sill and watched it take a few steps towards the glass. He then lifted his gaze to take in the view of the front of the cabin where Ellette had laid unconscious only moments ago.

Where he had fought with Gabriel.

Through the reflection of the window, he stared at Ellette, who had not moved from the doorway. "What happened out there?"

Her head lifted slightly but her gaze remained on the floor. "I felt a little lightheaded, is all. But I am feeling better now. Thank you for finding and helping me."

"And if I had not been around to find you? I suppose possibly freezing to death after passing out does not frighten you?"

It had not been a question he expected her to answer; his anger and fear had simply rendered his ability to keep his thoughts to himself useless, especially when those thoughts terrified him.

"Why did you come back? Was it for the bird?"

He glanced down at the bird, which had been entertaining itself by tapping its tiny beak against the window.

Was it so entirely impossible for her to think he came back for her? Was she just that committed to the role she was playing that she dare not ask what she truly wanted to know? Or did she truly not care whether she ever crossed his mind or not?

He looked up and sought out her reflection in the window once again. "I came because I had a dream."

Only then did she fully lift her head and look over at him. "A dream?"

He turned around to face her and nodded. "And I thought you might be the only one who could help me figure it out. Would you like to hear it?"

He was not going to wait for her response, not because he was afraid she might decline but because he wanted to make it clear he was going to tell her whether she wanted to hear it or not.

"In my dream, it is dark and I am somewhere I have never been before. I am alone, dying, bleeding out from a wound, and the moment I give up hope of being saved, somebody comes along and saves me. Do you think this dream means something or nothing? That I am worth saving?"

He continued to stare directly at her, never breaking eye contact until she looked away. He could not fault her for doing so, as he was certain she felt the intensity from his gaze even from across the room, where she probably assumed maintaining space between them would keep her safe.

"I think sometimes a dream is just a dream."

"And if it was not just a dream? I mean, if it were to really happen and I was dying, would I be worth saving?"

Her reply did not come right away, but only after a few silent seconds passed. "I think fate should play out the way it was intended. And when we intervene to thwart her plans," she glanced up at him, "we only make her vengeful."

Michael looked Ellette up and down as his heart began to race. From her eyes to her lips, her hands to her feet, he looked for any sign from her body that might have contrasted her words until he remembered something that made him stop.

As much as he wanted to believe she had not meant what she just said, a fairy could not tell a lie. Her response was exactly what he feared hearing most: she regretted saving him.

But even hearing the words did not quell the urge to walk over to her, wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Although every word had pierced through his heart as they slipped past her lips, they did not—could not—stop it from beating nor yearning for her.

And that made him angry. Not with her but with himself and the odds his heart, body, and mind were at with one another. Because as much as he wanted to hold her and never let go, his anger made him want to storm over to her and reveal it all. But he knew he could not because doing so would have only been his way of hurting her in retaliation against the hurt she was inflicting upon him.

And he had no right. No matter how angry, no matter how hurt, he could not allow himself to hurt Ellette any more than he already had. Any more than she already was.

All Michael could do was nod. Whether it was in defeat or acceptance, he was not entirely sure. Perhaps it was both. Because even he was one of her regrets, she—the little fairy he swore to protect at all costs—was not one of his.

"You are right. Fate should play out the way it was intended."

He turned and looked down at the bird still perched on the window sill, no longer looking out the window but looking up at him. He reached out and gently stroked the top of its tiny head with his finger before turning back around and walking towards Ellette.

He did not look at her as he neared the doorway, nor when he passed her by as he exited the room. But when he was almost to the cabin's front door, he stopped because he knew once he left everything was going to change.

Once he left, he would be stepping into a whole new world. One full of truths he was afraid of hearing, realities he was afraid of confronting, and secrets he was afraid of coming to light and illuminating the faces of those who purposely kept him in the dark.

And he was not sure if he was ready.

A/N: Michael finally remembers!! Do you think he made the right choice by not telling Ellette? Do you think she truly regrets saving Michael?