Nineteen
PORTIA
Istumbled across pine needles and caught myself against a towering tree.
Bark scraped my back as I leaned against the trunk and took stock of my surroundings. A sun-dappled forest spread before me, the trees thick, silent sentinels. The rich scents of earth and sap filled my lungs.
Wherever I was, it wasn’t Manhattan.
The chronomancer’s bag was missing again. But maybe I didn’t need it anymore. If this was my last “assignment,” the gods would send me home—and I’d be free to look for Tavish and Albie.
Determination coursed through me. Pushing away from the tree, I started forward.
Male cursing echoed through the woods, and I froze, my heart pumping faster. More noise followed, and I tilted my head as I struggled to make it out.
The shriek of metal drifted through the trees.
My dragon stirred at the edges of my mind, and I almost sank to the forest floor in relief. If I ran into trouble, maybe she’dfinallyhelp me shift.
The man’s voice came again, muttering a string of curse words that made me raise my eyebrows.
I moved toward the sound, careful to step over roots and fallen branches. My Mary Janes were clinging to life, and a broken heel was the last thing I needed.
The cursing grew louder…and more creative. I rounded a massive oak and stopped.
A man crouched in a small clearing with his hands wrapped around the jaws of a bear trap. His shoulders strained as he pried the metal teeth apart, his muscles bunching beneath a buckskin coat trimmed with fur.
If “strapping frontier man” had a dictionary entry, he was an appropriate image for it. His long, blond hair was tied at his nape with a strip of leather, and a matching beard hugged his jaw. His buckskin trousers looked like they’d been stitched by hand. Leather boots rose to his knees.
The scent of pine washed over me.
A lotof pine—so much of it that I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off a sneeze. He smelled more like forest than the actual forest.
Werewolf.Mum and my Uncle Bram carried hints of the telltale scent.
The trap gave way with a screech of metal. The man straightened, releasing it with a satisfied grunt. He stiffened suddenly, then swung startling blue eyes to my hiding spot.
A squeak escaped me before I could stop it. We faced off with less than twenty feet between us. But my dragon stirred harder under my skin, and some of my apprehension faded. Now that shifting was back on the table, I didn’t need to fear a solitary werewolf—even one capable of opening a trap with his bare hands.
He straightened, his blue eyes sharp. “Who are you?”
My mind raced. Where was I?Whenwas I? “I’m…lost?”
His expression shifted, suspicion giving way to concern mixed with something that looked like pride. “It’s dangerous getting lost in this forest. You’re fortunate I found you.”
I bit my tongue against the urge to point out thatI’dfoundhim.
He looked me over, and his eyebrows pulled together. “What are you wearing?”
I glanced down at the filthy, tattered flapper dress. The man was obviously from a more conservative time. The body-hugging beaded fringe probably scandalized him.
“It’s a dress,” I said.
He tilted his head. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“I…tore it.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” He shrugged out of his fur coat and strode toward me. “I’m not the kind of man who lets a lady freeze. Here.” He held out the coat.
