Now is a different story. I’ve run out of plans, out of pride, out of every damn thing except him. Plus, I want out of whatever this is. I want to get back home. So why shouldn’t I let him save me? That’s what he does. He finds answers no one else can. Gets what he wants, no matter the cost.
And if I let him, he’ll get me out of this.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing air into my lungs.
Focus. Don’t spiral. Just breathe.
The scent of damp earth fills my chest, the rustling trees overhead shifting in rhythm with the too-fast thump of my pulse.
It’s fine. He’s got this.
He’s got me.
My pocket vibrates, and my breath catches.
I yank the card free. It pulses against my palm, a warm and steady heartbeat as the image shimmers like a mirage.
The card gets hotter—too hot.
“Shit!” I yelp, dropping it as fire licks through my fingers. It lands on a dew-covered fern with a hiss, tendrils of smoke curling into the air.
The edges glow like embers. The image shifts, flickers in and out of focus.
I shake out my hand, rubbing my fingertips together, still feeling the heat.
What the hell is happening?
My teeth clench against the scream building in my throat.
“What do you want from me?” The question burstsout, ragged and loud.
I don’t know what I expect from this impossible, inexplicable thing. To explain itself? Of course it doesn’t. I’m only met with the soft whisper of wind and the distant rush of the river.
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “This is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous.”
But the card pulses again, brighter this time, like it’s breathing with me. Like it’s waiting.
Snap!
The sound is loud and close. The sharp crack of a branch underfoot followed by the whisper of movement through the trees.
My body goes rigid, every nerve lighting up with the need to flee. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and a warning crawls up my spine.
I whip around toward the sound, gripping the nearest fallen branch like it’s a weapon. My pulse pounds through my limbs, muscles coiled, ready.
The forest is suddenly too dense, the shadows between the trees darker. I don’t know where I am or where to run.
Something moves.
I tighten my grip on the branch, swinging with everything I have as the figure steps into view. But before the wood makes contact, a hand snaps up, catching it midair with almost lazy ease.
My fingers loosen on the branch, and I suck in a breath.
Alder’s naked—completely, unapologetically naked.
Sunlight breaks through the trees, dappled patterns sliding over his bare skin. Broad shoulders, sharp linesof muscle, every inch of him honed and gleaming. My gaze catches on the ridges of his chest, the sharp cut of his abdomen, and then—
A scar.
