Chapter One
Swimmingtoconsciousnesswasa never-ending battle. One minute he was on the brink of awareness, the next, a yawning abyss dragged him back into mind-numbing darkness. The relentless tug-of-war between consciousness and empty bliss soon became unbearable as a throbbing ache gnawed at him. His stomach twisted, nausea creeping in as his head pulled with the constant, vicious, never-ending struggle between light and shadow. After an eternity, he finally found the strength to open his eyes.
Sort of.
Stupid eyelids fluttered like a nervous butterfly wrestling against a high wind. And what did he get for all his efforts? A sharp, piercing pain that felt like his skull would blow off his shoulders.
Throwing his forearm over his face, he shielded his throbbing noggin from the weak, yet blinding, light. A groan rolled out from his scratchy, dry throat. Taking a chance, he flopped his arm to his side and peeked through slitted lids.
Well, shit. All that effort was totally worthless. High above him, a flickering glow of a malfunctioning light danced, creating erratic shadows that crisscrossed over rust-streaked metal walls. His nose twitched as the odor of burned wires and engine grease filled his nostrils, acrid and heavy. A sharp stench coated his mouth, leaving behind a vile aftertaste.
Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he opened his eyes wider. Where was he? Wait agoddess-damnedminute.More importantly… who was he? The dull hum of engines reverberating through the floor didn’t supply any answers. It only provided a relentless, rhythmic vibration that echoed into his very bones. Every muscle ached as he pushed himself upright, his hands slipping on the slick, oil-smeared surface of a hard floor. He glanced at his splayed hands as if they held the secrets of the universe.
Nope. Nothing. He blinked. His only claim to fame was a humongous dose of zilch. Zero. Nada.
An oncoming wave of blankness threatened to suffocate him with a cold dose of hard reality. Forgotten memories pressed, clawing for attention at the edges of his mind. His heart pounded as a mix of confusion and unease threatened to take over. In stark desperation, he surveyed the wide, cluttered space, littered with abandoned tools and tangled cables.
A movement to his right caught his eye. It was… a person? Yes, that sounded right. A person crouched next to an enormous… machine? He blinked. And what was that person doing? He watched their profile as they tapped their fingers against full lips, their eyes narrowed at the tablet settled on the floor between their crossed legs. This person wore tan, one-piece, baggy overalls layered and streaked with grease and grime. Wild golden spirals that hid the side of their face escaped from some type of ball cap covering their head. Across the floor were strewn several unfamiliar items, arranged by size in precise, evenly spaced rows. Each object sat at a measured distance from each other.
Obviously, an obsessive-compulsive type. How many times had he teased… An elusive memory slipped through his mind—a man with dark skin who had a penchant for trying to make him into a methodical ass like he was…
Agony scorched his mind as he tried to recall what he almost remembered.
“Where are you, you bastard? I know you’re there…” That mumbling grouse from the mysterious person had a distinctly feminine tone. She shook the tablet.
Feminine? What… oh, that meant that person was female. Female. Woman, girl, lass, maiden, damsel… lover. Yes. That felt right.
Was he female? He glanced down at the strange clothing he wore. The black, stiff material covering his lower half was… jeans. Over his chest was a tight short-sleeved shirt in an airy material of the same dark color. T-shirt. He had on a T-shirt. He patted his chest, feeling the tight muscles under his hands. His covered feet caught his eye. On them was a clunky pair of… boots? Ah, the brand name filtered by. Doc Martens.
He glanced across the room. Nope. Not female. That meant he had to be a… male. Man, gentleman, masculine, lad, boy. Heh, he was no boy. That was easy to remember.
“You’re finally awake.”
He jumped. How did that woman end up in front of him so quickly? “Ah… yes?” He had no idea how to respond.
“Good, you speak English. Who are you?” Her fists were planted on her trim hips. She glared at him with narrowed eyes. Eyes that were a mesmerizing mixture of emerald green and brilliant gold. “What happened to you? Where are you from? Why were you on that ship?”
With a wry grin, he croaked. “English? Don’t know. Can’t remember. No clue. What ship?”
The woman snorted. “Humph. Okay, let’s try this slow and easy.” She crouched to meet him eye-to-eye. “What’s your name?”
A shot of pain pounded his temples, making him wince. He rubbed the right side of the offending area. His name? What was his name? “Ar… Ar…” He glanced at her for help. “I don’t know.”
“Are you sure?” Her disapproval was clear, with her eyebrows pulled close and down, creasing her forehead. She stood. “I refuse to go around calling you, Arr. It makes you sound like a stupid pirate or something.”
Pirate. A person who attacks and robs at sea.
Nope. At least he didn’t think so.
He shrugged and grimaced as the pain in his head slithered down the back of his neck. “Sorry, but I really don’t remember.” He glanced around. “Anything. Where am I anyway?” He focused on her.
She crossed her arms, shelving her full breasts on them.
Now, his mouth dried for a different reason. He cleared his throat. “And who might you be, lovely lady?”
The caramel complexion of her face flushed.
It was a toss-up if she was angry or embarrassed.
