Forbidden Memories

The old journal feels fragile in my hands, the edges worn from decades of touch. It smells faintly of burnished leather and something faintly sweet—like the scent of my grandmother’s favorite perfume, the one my mother used to keep on her dresser in a chipped glass bottle. It was a bonding gift given to me by Tanis. How she came by it, she wouldn’t say, but I’m grateful, nonetheless.

The pages are yellowed but surprisingly intact. My eyes scan the delicate script, my grandmother’s handwriting a mix of elegant loops and hurried scrawls. Each entry pulls me deeper into her world, a life that existed long before me, but one that feels eerily familiar.

“She kept this all these years,” I murmur, my voice barely audible in the dim light of Ryder’s suite. He’s across the room, his shirt unbuttoned, leaning against the door frame as he watches me with those dark eyes, as if trying to read my thoughts.

“What does it say?” His voice is soft, but there’s a rough edge to it—like he knows whatever I’ve found in this journal might matter more than I realize.

I hesitate, running my fingers over the words. “It’s… personal. Intimate.”

Ryder steps closer, his presence filling the room as he settles beside me on the bed. The heat of his body seeps into my side, grounding me. “Bella,” he says, his voice low, “if it’s about her and the pack, it might be important. Even if it isn’t, she was your grandmother, it belongs to you.”

I glance at him, his gaze making my heart stutter. “It’s not just about the pack,” I admit, flipping to a page that caught my breath earlier. “It’s about her and my grandfather.”

Ryder’s brow furrows, and I can see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “She wrote about him?”

“She wrote about… them,” I say, my cheeks warming as I glance at the entry. The words are vivid, filled with longing and forbidden passion. My grandmother described their first meeting in the woods, how she’d stumbled upon him while he was hunting. She was drawn to him immediately, his scent, his strength, his humanity. The way she felt torn between her loyalty to the pack and the undeniable pull of her heart.

“She wrote about the night she gave in,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. My fingers trace the edge of the page. “She said it was like losing herself and finding herself all at once. Like the whole world stopped for them.”

Ryder doesn’t speak, but his jaw tightens, and I can feel the energy radiating from him. His hand moves to rest on my thigh, warm and heavy, comforting me in the present even as my mind lingers in the past.

“I know exactly how she felt,” Ryder says softly.

“She knew it was dangerous,” I continue, my voice trembling. “That the pack wouldn’t accept it. But she didn’t care. She said she couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t choose him.”

Ryder’s fingers tighten on my thigh, his voice rough when he finally speaks. “She sounds like you.”

The words hit me harder than they should, and I blink up at him, my chest tightening. “Maybe,” I say softly. “But she paid the price for loving someone outside the pack. She was banished for it.”

“And yet,” Ryder says, his hand moving to cup my cheek, “she lived. She loved. She created you. She carved a path no one else in the Nightshade Pack was brave enough to walk.”

His words make my throat tighten, and before I can think, I lean into him, the journal slipping from my lap onto the bed as my lips find his. The kiss is fierce, desperate, filled with all the emotions I don’t know how to put into words.

Ryder pulls me closer, his hands roaming my body with a possessive heat that sets my skin on fire. “Bella,” he whispers against my lips, his voice low and rough, “you don’t have to carry her scars. You’re not her.”

“But I am,” I say, breaking away just long enough to look into his eyes. “I feel it, Ryder. The pull, the danger, the… the way it’s worth everything.”

His lips crash against mine again, silencing me as he pushes me back against the pillows. His weight pins me there, but it doesn’t feel confining—it feels safe, like he’s shielding me from the world.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my jaw as he moves lower. “Your grandmother may have been exiled, but you’re not going anywhere. You’re here, with me.”

His words make something inside me unravel, and I arch into him as his mouth moves to the hollow of my throat. His teeth scrape against my skin, sending a shiver through me as he bites down gently, marking me without breaking the skin.

“I feel it too,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “The danger, the pull. And I don’t care. I’d burn the whole pack down if it meant keeping you.”

His words ignite something in me, and I reach for him, pulling him closer as his hands slide under my shirt. The journal lies forgotten beside us, its secrets blending with our own as the past and present collide. It doesn’t take much for either of us to be lost to the throes of passion.

Ryder strips us both naked, spreading my legs as he makes a place for himself between them. His lips find mine as his tongue plunges into my mouth, tangling with mine as his cock parts my labia and he pushes into me with an easy thrust.

I grasp his shoulders as he cups my ass in his powerful hands, holding me in place. My legs come up to wrap around his waist as my pussy wraps around his cock. He slides in and out of me in an ever-increasing frenzy of primal desire. There is always fire, passion and love when we fuck. He grinds himself against me, making me moan.

Ryder slows the speed of his thrusting, but not the power as he drives us toward the inevitable end of our coupling. My orgasm is building, and I can feel his cock swelling and twitching as a hard climax washes over me, followed by his cum bathing my pussy with its warmth.

Later, as I lie tangled in Ryder’s arms, my fingers tracing the ridges of his muscles, I think about my grandmother and her courage. She chose love, even when it meant losing everything. And now, I realize, I’m choosing it too. Not just for me, but for the future we’re building together.

“We’ll rewrite the rules,” Ryder murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep but no less determined.

And as I drift off, I believe him.