Wincing, I pulled my hands back and glared up at him. “For the last time, I don’t even know who you are, or where I am, for that matter.”
“Right.” He flashed me another cocky grin, the kind that made my fists clench with the overwhelming urge to wipe it off his ridiculously handsome face. His eyes sparkled knowingly, as if he could read my thoughts and took quiet pleasure in my discomfort.
“You know,” he drawled, “for someone so desperate for a shirt just moments ago, you don’t seem all that eager to put it on.”
My face flushed with heat as I angrily wrapped the silky black shirt around myself. The scent of citrus and cedar filled my nostrils, making me momentarily lightheaded. Great—he was not only infuriatingly attractive but also smelled amazing. Who the hell was this guy?
I folded my arms and shot him a defiant ‘there, happy now’ look, which made him chuckle.
“Black looks good on you, little stalker.” His lips curved into a sensual smile that took my breath away.
This guy was trouble, plain and simple. How was I supposed to get any answers from this arrogant, cocky asshole? I took a cautious step back to put some distance between us and drew a deep breath.
He didn’t take his eyes off me as I moved back, but he made no effort to close the distance again.
“Where am I?” I asked, hoping for some concrete information.
“In my tent,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Clearly.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “But where exactly is your tent? Where am I?”
“You’re in my camp,” he repeated, maintaining his smug smile. He folded his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this.
I shot him a flat look. “And where is your camp located?”
“What makes you think I’d share that with you?” he retorted, his expression hardening as he seemed to remember I might pose a threat.
He shifted on his feet, and I instinctively took another step back, the subtle change in his gaze making me uneasy. I cursed myself for it, determined not to show any sign of intimidation, even if I couldn’t help feeling a little unsettled.
“At least tell me your name,” I demanded, planting my hands on my hips and leaning forward slightly.
Dimples appeared on his cheeks as he flashed me a wicked grin. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Is this some sort of game to you?” I shot him a frustrated glare, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
Challenge sparked in his eyes, but before he could respond, a gust of wind surged around me, and darkness started to shroud my vision. Wind pulled at my clothes, and my hair whipped wildly around me.
The stranger’s eyes widened in alarm as he lunged toward me, but I was already gone.
*
The room spun, and suddenly, I found myself back in front of my bathing chamber. I looked down and realized I still wore his shirt, the rich, dark silk draped over me. The scent of cedar and citrus lingered on the fabric, serving as the only tangible evidence that this had really happened and wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
“What in the holy gods.” A voice rang out from behind me, and I spun around in alarm to find Cynthia standing near the door. Her eyes were wide, and she looked paler than usual as she looked at me from across the room.
“Cynthia! What are you doing here?” I rushed toward her, but she raised her hands, stopping me.
Her mouth moved as if to say something, but no sound came out. She quickly masked her emotions, but her eyes were filled with questions as if she were trying to piece together some kind of puzzle. Cynthia cleared her throat. “You weren’t here.” She pointed to the spot where I stood. “And then you were… but when I came in, you weren't, and then—like the world split open—you suddenly appeared.”
“I know, I know. But you have no idea how relieved I am that you saw it,” I said, exhaling in relief. “Now, you won’t think I’m crazy when I tell you what’s been happening.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed and still in shock.
“Come on.” I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the chairs in front of the fire. I plopped her into one and collapsed into the other.
“All right… go on.” She gave me a weary look, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. I launched into the story, telling her about how I’d been disappearing into strange places—about that night and how I ended up falling practically naked on top of someone.
Cynthia listened intently, her mouth hanging slightly open as she took it all in. “Who else knows about this?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
