Page 21 of Forget Me Not
Syve’s body rippled against his as she shifted but remained limp. Still unconscious, but now a human. A very naked human.
At least this meant she would be easier to carry with her weight distribution more agreeable. Bastien shifted his arm away from her ass to the back of her knees as quickly as he could without dropping her, and without looking down at her. Having managed to stop directly in the center of one of the few snow drifts that still lingered in the shadows, Bastien’s feet now felt like clubs as he resumed walking.
He had been ignoring how, andwhere,she was pressed against him—she was unconscious and, all arguments aside, he was not a complete animal. A gust of wind picked up—cold air doing what it does best. Club feet or not, the second she shivered, he took off running. He refused to let her get frostbite or hypothermia because of him. Because he had chased her all the way to the damned lake.
He had to slow down when they reached the back side of the mausoleum, carefully checking for any potential witnesses before quickly ducking inside. The interior of the tomb was far warmer than the outside air, the lack of wind and the heat of the persistent sun creating a giant oven out of the stone walls.
Hurrying to the back wall, Bastien crouched down, careful to keep his eyes on the hanging lanterns as he laid Syve down on the cushioned bench. He blindly reached for one of the many blankets he had stashed. Once she was covered,he slipped back outside to grab his clothes, begrudgingly donning his frozen pants before returning.
As soon as he was back inside, he swapped his cold, dirt-covered shirt for a clean one from his stash—but froze with it caught around his biceps when he glanced at the woman. Long auburn hair, now horribly tangled from the wind, framed her pale face. It wasn’t the kind of pale that came from hiding indoors—just genetics. One thing was certain: the doe who haunted his nights was also the hazel-eyed woman who plagued his days.
Bastien turned the page and then turned it back, already having forgotten what he had just read. He was having a hard time focusing with Syve’s gentle snores—not that the snores themselves bothered him, but the fact his mystery woman—and mystery shifter—were one and the same. Oh, and she was sleeping naked, five feet away from him, because he hadtackledher and knocked her out. With his luck, she would wake up, freak out again, and he could not imagine how this situation could get any worse.
A small groan from the corner made him snap his book shut and jump to his feet, back pressed against the wall.
Syve opened her eyes.
Syve
Dustandpine.Whydid it smell like dust and pine?
Syve groaned. Her body was stiff and sore in the same way it always was after she’d fallen asleep on the floor. Only this was not her living room. Quick flashes played in her mind: reading her mother’s journal, not being able to open her door…Aimi?
Running and running.
Trees and…him.
Her eyes snapped open, immediately landing on the man standing in the corner. He stood stock still, like he’d been cornered by a lion, watching her while he pressed himself into the wall, as if he was afraid of what she would do. Ifhe could only back up another quarter inch, he could phase right through the wall itself.
Syve squinted her eyes, and was certain when she’d seen him earlier he was the same silent stranger from The Glass, but now…he was different. His hair was disheveled with twigs sticking out of the wavy, tangled mess. Sunken eyes stared at her warily, brows knit and a frown tugging at his surprisingly full lips. She was certain he’d been wearing a black t-shirt before, but was now wearing a dark gray long sleeve. She also noticed he was barefoot, though that took a second glance to confirm, since his feet were thoroughly covered in dirt.
The man cleared his throat, the sound choking out at the end as he winced.
Oh, she had flinched.
He tried again.
“I…there’s water.”
He pointed and her eyes slowly followed. Two bottles of water, various small bags of snacks, and a handful of candy bars sat in an open plastic tote on the floor. That’s when Syve noticed she was lying on a bench, covered with a plush throw blanket. She was confused, tired and so damned thirsty. Questions could be asked once her tongue no longer felt like sandpaper in her mouth. She reached for one of the waters, halting immediately when her raised arm shifted the blanket off herverynaked shoulder. With a gasp, she snatched theedge of the blanket, pulled it up to her neck and leveled a fierce glare on the man.
“Whereare my clothes?!” she croaked. Water would absolutely be necessary if she was going to ask all her questions.
“You didn’t…we can’t…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pausing to glance down when he pulled free a small handful of pine needles, which he tossed onto the floor. With a shake of his head, he continued, “By your feet, there’s a pair of sweats and a hoodie. They’ll probably be too big, but it’s all I have.”
Syve lifted her head again, looking down to see a pile of gray fabric.
The man cleared his throat. “I’ll step out for a minute so you can get dressed. I know you have to have a million and twelve questions. I promise I’ll answer as many as I can.”
He looked at her a moment longer, likely assessing whether or not he could safely turn his back on her, then slipped out the door.
Syve remained where she was, blinking and staring for another thirty seconds before bursting to her feet to savagely yank on the clothes. He was right—they were massive on her. The pants pooled at her feet, and even after cinching and tying them at the waist, they still threatened to slip down. She sloppily rolled up the sleeves of the hoodie until her hands were uncovered.
There was nothing to be done about her bare feet.
Modesty restored, she took in her surroundings, noting the concrete walls covered in plaques, each accompanied by a small vase filled with dried flowers. Oil lanterns hung evenly from the ceiling, and three stained glass windows, a small one on either side of the door and one large rectangular one above the bench she had woken up on, served as the only light source. Dark wood embellished with iron made up the large door that sat slightly ajar, the only way in or out of this…tomb.
Syve felt every last drop of blood in her body run cold as it finally dawned on her.
