Dare {Book 2}

Chapter ten

Isabella
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Brown hair, dark green eyes. Soft skin, rock hard abs. Beautiful smile, perfect teeth. Kissable lips.

Those are but only a few of the characteristics of Tate. There are so many more that I have yet to describe. So many photos have me with him. I don't understand, but I do remember. I won't admit it to them. They will see it as a weakness, for me to not resist his touch, his voice, his kiss. I remember all too well. From the butterflies to the sparks and tingles on my lips.

I need Ace to save me and I need him to do it now. I'm starting to break down, staring at the photos. Soon enough these people will have me telling them everything, including the visions I've seen. I don't understand why I'm with Tate so much, why I'm always smiling in the photos. I want to know, but I don't want to ask.

I've remembered werewolves. Human hybrids. I'm one of them, but I wasn't always one. I remember the feeling of being human at one point, but I don't remember when. I know my wolf is Silver, a rare color for wolves.

I'm sitting on the window ledge, overlooking the forest. A clump of photos sit in my lap and on the ledge in front of me. I'm sitting crossed-legged. Deja vu settles over me once again as I see the sun disappear behind the trees. I think this may have been the most peaceful memory yet.

I pick up another photo. I'm sleeping peacefully in the bed that I've associated with Tate. I figure it's his bed, or was our bed at one point. My head is resting on Tate's bare chest. He's looking down at me while I sleep, his arm around my waist. The other arm is resting behind his head. I sigh. Why did I have to lose my memory?

I put the photo down, in the pile with the pictures of just us two. From the pile, I pick up one with the young girl. Her purple eyes shine brightly. I'm using my air element to let her float on a tornado. She's laughing and I am too. I can tell that I'm concentrating on not dropping her. Darcy and Kyle are in the background.

Violet.

The memories come rushing in, giving me a headache. Violet, Tate's little sister. I remember her, I remember Bubba, the movie nights, the sleepovers. I remember the feeling of having a sibling. And I remember her always yelling my name.

Yet they are still just pieces that don't make a whole. The edges are fuzzy in my memory.

I throw the pictures on the floor, glaring down at them. I'd rather have no memory at all than have little pieces. It angers me that I don't know my whole story. I bring my knees up to my chest and scream into my legs. This is so frustrating.

"Izzy!" I hear Violet call. I shake my head, I must be imagining the little girl.

But when I hear the small footsteps running down the hall, I know I'm not.

"Izzy!" She yells again, this time closer. I slowly stand from the ledge and make my way over to the door. The footsteps are even closer, almost to my door. She calls once more. When I hear my nickname, I fling the door open and step out.

"Izzy!" She yells, standing a few feet away from me. She tries to come towards me, but Tate grabs her arm gently, whispering something to her. I stare at the little girl, taking in her features. She looks just like the photos. I've missed her so much.

I bend down to her height.

"Hey Vy" I whisper with tears in my eyes. She brushes off Tate's grip and runs to me. She's crying.

I hold open my arms and let her tackle me in a hug. She sobs into my shoulder, gripping the fabric of my shirt. I smile into her hair, picking her up as I stand. I've missed her so much.

"Tatey said you was sick" she whispers, rubbing her eyes on my shirt. I don't look up at Tate, who watches us. I also don't reply to Violet's statement. What would I say? I am still sick, in some way. I still don't remember my old life. "Izzy?"