Oh, for the love of God. “You’re being an asshole,” I tell him. “Don’t take your issues out on Rosa. She just works here.”
His only response is an inarticulate growl.
“It’s okay, Rune,” Rosa says, hands on her leggings-clad hips. “The drawing was random, but I did confer with Ethan before assigning each group and he suggested this would be the best match for the two of you. And after spending a little time with you,” she says, her gaze lingering on Donovan, “I think he’s absolutely right. This is our most challenging room, and by the time you’re done with it, the two of you will be an unstoppable team. Just wait and see.”
Donovan snorts, folding his arms across his chest.
“Now,” Rosa goes on, “as the Game Mistress, let me give you your ground rules. First, all activities can only be completed with each other’s support, so no cheating and going off on your own.”She wags a finger at Donovan. “You’ll have to decide together which side of the room to start on. Once you do, you’ll need to solve each puzzle before you can move on to the next one. After you complete the final puzzle, you’ll be free to go. Any questions?”
Yes,I want to say.So many.But none of them are ones she can answer, so I shake my head. After a long, painful second, Donovan does the same.
Rosa gives us a cheery wave. “Off to my own escape room, then! Mine is pirate-themed. Can’t wait. See you soon!” She skips away, through the door where we came in. The lock snicks shut behind her, leaving me and Donovan alone together.
The two of us stand there in silence, broken only by the crackle of the fires and the creak of ice. At last, I can’t take it anymore. “Look, I can’t help that we’re stuck here. But if you would just let me explain about Cooper, then maybe this would be a little less?—”
He straightens, his lips pressing into a grim line. “Christ, Rune. What about ‘I don’t want to talk about that’ do you not understand? Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie, which makes conversation between us pointless. Let’s just get through this and get out of here.”
I know he has no real reason to trust me. But after a lifetime of not being believed, hearing Donovan call me a liar cuts deep. “Fine,” I snap. “Where do you want to start?”
“I don’t care. You pick.”
“This side, then,” I say, stalking in the direction of the fire pits. The ground here is uneven dirt, littered with tiny rocks and pebbles. Heat from the flames curls around me, like a reassuring hug. Maybe it’ll thaw Donovan enough to make this experience bearable.
“Fine.” He prowls across the room, muscles coiled, jaw locked, blue eyes cold and hard. I want desperately to see himsoften for me, the way he did that night in the office, his defenses falling away. I want to stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, to taste him again. But if I tried, he’d probably bite me. An ache rises in my chest, and I rub at it, trying to make it leave.
“Of course this is what you chose,” he says, coming to a halt two feet away.
“I like this side of the room.” I do my best to sound as if the gulf between us, stretching wider every second, isn’t tearing me apart. And as if I’m telling the truth.
A minute ago, this looked like a cozy option—like puzzle-solving by a campfire. Now, though, the warmth of the fire pits is no longer inviting—it’s stultifying. The logs pop, sending a shower of sparks upward, and smoke fills the air, scorching my throat. The rising flames cast shadows on the stone walls, whose cracks and crevices seem to go on forever. I peer closer, trying to make sure nothing’s crawling out of them to eat us, but I can’t see much. This side of the room is dim, lit only by the leaping flames.
I take it back. This isn’t Disney World. It’s the foyer of Mordor.
Next to me, Donovan pushes up the sleeves of his Henley and swipes sweat from his forehead. “What’s not to like?” His voice is husky from the smoke, which has the unfortunate effect of making him sound even more sexy than usual. “Why enjoy a cool, refreshing experience when you can roast yourself alive?”
Sweat beads on my forehead, trickling down my back, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him see how uncomfortable I am. “We can’t all have a heart of ice.”
Donovan scoffs. “One of us has a heart of ice, all right. But it’s not me.”
Really? “Look,” I say, taking a step toward him. “If we’re going to get out of here, then we’ll have to find a way to?—”
Mid-stride, the toe of my Docs collides with a pebble. It sails through the air, hitting the stone wall and vanishing into one of the crevices. There’s a groaning sound, as if the earth itself is shifting. Then the wall cracks open and the ground beneath us spins. I fall forward, onto my hands and knees, so close to the flames that sparks land on my shirt and I have to beat them out. My stomach churns as the room blurs past me: fire, ridged gray stone, Donovan’s shocked face, fire again. For a horrible moment, I’m afraid I’m going to throw up. I shut my eyes, dig my nails into the dirt-packed ground, and cling for dear life.
And then, just as suddenly as it began spinning, the room stills. Next to me, Donovan is swearing a blue streak. I open my eyes, push myself up to my knees—and gasp.
I’m encircled by a hundred Donovans, getting to their feet and dusting off their jeans and glaring. They’re all around me, their dark hair tousled and their eyes arctic and their mouths spitting expletives. And staring at him in disbelief are a hundred versions of me—big dark eyes, pale face, tangled mane of hair, holes pinpricking my scorched shirt. We’re backlit by the red glow of a thousand flames.
For a moment, I think I’m having a premonition. But no. There’s no sense of the undertow I always feel, no double vision that always comes with having a foot in two realities. But then how the?—
I turn in a circle, ignoring Donovan’s increasingly creative litany of curses, forcing my breathing to slow. As my pulse falls to a post-adrenaline-rush rate, I focus, taking in our new surroundings.
The fire pits are still here, scattered throughout the room. But the stone walls have disappeared. In their place is pane after pane of reflective glass, stretching from the dirt floor to the twelve-foot-high ceiling. Donovan scowls from each one of them, looking unfairly gorgeous and undeniably furious.
Fantastic. I’m trapped with a man who can’t stand the sight of me. A guy I can barely look at without wanting to punch or ravage, romance-novel-style.
Inside a hall of mirrors.
Chapter
