Sadie, at least that’s what she called herself, returns to changing into dry clothes. I do my best to avert my gaze, ignoring the display of her white trillium skin. It’s not easy to tear myself away and focus on other parts of the room. After all, I have some serious thinking to do. She can’t stay here forever, tucked away in my tree. Given the storm, she’s going to be here too long for me to hide away the entire time.
When I hear her moving about again, I readjust in time to catch her putting her palms against the walls of my home. She’s gentle, careful not to disturb any of the moss growing along the walls. It’s almost as if she understands that it’s a living organism, one that requires respect. Sadie continues, making her way around the tree’s circumference. As she approaches me, I suck in a breath, waiting for her.
She pauses, cocking her head to one side as she stares at me, not reaching forward.
You can’t see me.
Even as the thought fills my mind, I don’t believe it’s true. The way her emerald eyes meet mine is unnatural. My powers keep me hidden; only other forest dwellers can sense my presence, let alone see through my camouflage…unless she’s my mate.
Almost the minute the thought crosses my mind, I dismiss it. Fate no longer intervenes in the lives of dryads. Preferring to let us choose our own partners.
Sadie keeps her hands to herself, hovering them over my midsection without touching.
“It’s different,” she whispers. “Why?”
She leans in close, her breath ghosting against my form. When she finally touches me, I can’t hold back the shiver that runs down my spine.
“Fuck!” she yells, jumping back. “Who’s there?”
Chapter
Three
SADIE
When I was a child, my family liked to visit funhouses, the ones full of strange mirrors and paid actors who jumped out from around corners.
I hated them. I hated the way my heart wouldn’t stop pounding in my chest. I swore that when I grew up, I’d never set foot in any funhouses, haunted houses, corn mazes, or any other scary places again. So far, I’ve been successful.
This whole experience is starting to feel the same way. Rooms that are too big to be true, strange noises, and now a patch of wall that shakes.
Fuck this. I’m getting out of here.
Just as soon as I find the door.
“Shit, shit, shit.” A minute ago, this felt like my own personal version of heaven. Now it’s hell. How can there not be an entrance?
“Wait,” a honeyed voice calls out. “Please. Don’t be scared.”
Knowing that there is an actual person here is both calming and upsetting. The good thing is it means my mind isn’t running completely wild. The bad thing is that I have no idea who could be here. Or where they’ve managed to hide.
I’ve seen this movie before, and I’m pretty sure it ends with a dead park ranger.
“Show yourself,” I demand.Come on, come on.I try to get my brain to pull up the information from the annual self-defense seminars the Forest Service makes us take. The thing is, I never thought I’d use any of it. Usually, I tune out during those sessions. In these parts, I’m more likely to come across a rabid moose than I am to find myself in the same room as an axe murderer.Now I wish I’d committed more of the instructor’s advice to memory. Didn’t he say something about keeping my hands up?
Or maybe down?
Fuck.
My eyes nearly fall out of my head when a section of the wall steps forward, the figure pulling away from the trunk. She’s stunning—ifsheis even the correct term—her skin changing from a deep brown to a soft green, the color of the forest in early summer, when everything is lush and vibrant. Her hair is a mess of vines, a mix of greens and browns, with bright flowers growing from the ends. I even spot what I think are a few Pholiota mushrooms.It’s the whole forest come to life.
Even more proof that I’ve died and gone to some fucked-up version of heaven. Or hell, depending on what happens next.
“Please don’t be afraid.” She raises her arms, hands outstretched as though she’s trying to keep me from moving. “I won’t hurt you.”
Something deep in my gut tells me that’s true. She rescued me from the storm, took me in, and cared for me. If she wanted to hurt me, there are easier ways to go about it.
“Who are you?”
