The light in the room hurt my eyes as they blinked open. Fuck me, it’s bright in here. I tried to look around but my head seemed fixed in place. Wait a minute… am I dead? Panic washed over me. I felt my heart thudding rapidly at my ribs and my breathing quicken. A bleeping sound mirrored the speed of my heart, but I couldn’t figure out what the significance was. The most ridiculous scenarios rampaged around my brain.

1) I was dead and in some kind of holding room.

2) I was alive and being experimented on by aliens.

3) I was dreaming and I’d wake up any minute now…

I tried to speak but a strange gurgling noise was all that I managed to utter. My throat was so dry and sore. A middle-aged woman appeared in my line of sight.

“H-hi… am I… am I dead?” I eventually croaked at her. She was wearing all white. Some kind of uniform?

“Hello, handsome. It’s good to see you.” She hovered over me, doing something with her hands I couldn’t see. “No, you’re very much alive, and I’m Annie. I’m the nurse who’s been looking after you. I’ll get the doctor to come and have a word with you in a wee while. Don’t you worry though. You’re being well cared for.”

Slowly I moved my head through the stiffness of my neck and watched as she began to tidy up a piece of machinery to the side of me that had a tube attached to it. She must have noticed my bewildered expression as she smiled and patted my arm. “Oh, don’t worry about this, hon. It’s just the ventilator. We disconnected it earlier when you began to show signs of regaining consciousness. You’re certainly looking better now than when you were brought in. Your throat may be a little tender for a while, but give it time.”

Confusion washed over me. The woman’s accent wasn’t what I expected. She sounded… Scottish. And what did she mean ‘when you were brought in?’ Brought in where, exactly? I wanted to ask but I heard the door close and I was alone again, left with the throbbing in my head and the fog in my mind.

I must’ve drifted back to sleep, as I found myself waking up again to find a dark-haired man standing over me. He shone a light in my eyes and I flinched.

“Sorry about that, young man. It’s a necessary evil. Good to see you awake. How are you feeling? Do you know where you are? Do you have pain anywhere?”

Hmm, another Scot. Weird. And what’s with all the fucking questions? “Um… no… no, I feel okay, I think,” I rasped with difficulty. Annie had been right about my throat being damn sore.

“Good, good,” he muttered as he walked out of view. I heard a scratchy noise which, with its rhythmical sound, I decided must have been a pen on paper. “Feel free to sleep whenever the need takes you. You’re going to be weak for a while after your ordeal. You’re in the best place, so please don’t be concerned at all. The medication in your system will keep taking you under, but it’s quite normal.”

I heard a door close and the room fell silent. Despite fighting the slumber that threatened, my eyes drifted closed again.

Another period of time must’ve passed—but I had no idea how long—and I opened my eyes again to find another woman standing over me. This one was stunning. Seriously fucking stunning. Long auburn waves pulled back in a ponytail that hung over one shoulder, dark-rimmed glasses, and the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. Fucking vivid green. My dick hardened despite my obvious less-than-well state.

There was something eerily familiar about her, but I couldn’t place what it was. I didn’t think I knew her as such, but it was as if my body did. A series of images of her and I together ran through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I briefly closed my eyes, trying to grip the images with my mind to see if I did know her after all. But almost as soon as the memories appeared, they faded, leaving me feeling more than a little confused.

She smiled down at me. “How are you feeling?” she asked. Huh? Another Scottish accent. What was with all the Scots in the US these days?

“Um… I… I’m not sure. W-why am I in here?”

Her brow scrunched. “Well, sir… you were… found unconscious over by Ben Nevis with nothing but a note and an iPod in your pocket.

“Huh?” What the fuck? “C-can I have some water? My throat…” I coughed and swallowed past the gravelly sensation.

“Oh, yes, of course.” She disappeared for a moment and while she was gone I contemplated what she’d said. Fucking hearing must be going. I could’ve sworn she said Ben Nevis.

The sexy woman returned and pressed a button that tilted my bed up. I glanced around the room, trying to figure out where in the hell I was and why she seemed familiar to me when I didn’t recall having any Scottish people in my life. My eyes fell on her again and I watched as she made notes on a file. She wore a black fitted skirt that hugged her hips and the curve of her ass perfectly. The grey blouse she wore was tucked into the waistband showing off her small waist. Gorgeous. My cock throbbed. Whatever the hell’s wrong with me, it certainly ain’t my libido.

Once I’d gulped down a full cup of water, I asked, “Sorry… I know this is crazy, but… I thought you said I was found by Ben Nevis. I’m sure I got that wrong, ’cause that’s in Scotland and I’m pretty sure I’m American. So… w-where am I exactly?”

She frowned and perched herself on the edge of the bed. As she did, her tight skirt rode up, revealing more of her long, lean legs. “You heard right. You’re in hospital in North Kessock at the moment.”

Okay, someone is fucking with me here. That’s the only reasonable explanation. I raised my head and rubbed my face. “But… I…”

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. “I can tell that this has come as a bit of a shock to you. To be honest, your accent has come as a bit of a shock to me. You’re… as you quite rightly pointed out… American. I wasn’t expecting that. Can you tell me your name?”

She wasn’t expecting my accent? “My name… my name… is… um…” My heart began to race and my palms became clammy. The bleeping of the machine beside me got faster as panic washed over me again and I scrambled around my head trying to acquire that one piece of vital information. What the fuck is my name? I know I’m an American citizen. But… who the fuck am I?

She must’ve seen the fear flashing in my eyes as her brow creased and she briefly pulled her lips in. I could have sworn she closed her eyes for longer than a normal blink. “Please don’t worry. You’re body has been through quite a trauma. Your memory may come back in time. We just need to be patient.”

I met her gaze and widened my eyes until they felt like they may fall out of the sockets. “M-may come back? What the fuck? What do you mean it may come back?”

She held up her hands. “Please calm down, sir. It won’t help you to get worked up.” Her voice was soothing and silky, and the more I heard her accent, the more I decided it was incredibly sexy like the rest of her. But I didn’t reply. I was too busy wondering what the fuck had happened to make me forget who I was and to wind up in a whole other fucking country.

She broke the silence that hung in the air between us. “Now that you’re awake, we’ll start working towards finding out who you are and why you were found in those particular circumstances. I need to ask you a few questions when you’re feeling stronger, is that okay?” I nodded and she proceeded “For now, can I just ask… Do you have any memory at all, however small or insignificant it may seem, of how you got here?”

“To Scotland? None… none at all.” That simple fact disturbed me greatly.

She nodded. “Okay. As I said, it may just be the result of the trauma you’ve experienced. We’ll try to get to the bottom of it starting tomorrow. Now… I’m sure you’re still tired. The medication you’re on will do that to you. But that’s fine. Get some rest and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I muttered as my heart continued to try to make its escape through my ridiculously flimsy hospital gown. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted her to lean over me and brush that soft, luscious mouth over my lips, my stomach, my cock.

She smiled at me, slowly, as though she had read my thoughts. And then she walked toward the door. Just before opening it, she turned to me again. “Try not to worry, okay? I’ll do my best to help you.”

Sleep must have come easily to me once again. But I was plagued with bizarre dreams. People’s faces that I didn’t recognise; violence; blood on my hands; shouting. I awoke with a start to find Nurse Annie at the end of my bed, writing on a chart.

“Good morning, handsome. Your colour’s improving and the bruises are fading nicely. Doctor Clayton will be by to see you again soon. He’s the gentleman that checked on you yesterday.”

Yesterday? Fuck, how long have I been sleeping?

She pressed the button that tilted my bed up again. “Would you like some food? I’m guessing you must feel starved. The nasal gastric feeding tube will only do so much for a strapping laddie like you, and so you really need to start eating.” I reached up and touched my nose but couldn’t feel anything there. “Oh it’s okay, deary, we removed it as you slept.” Annie was clearly a kind-hearted soul, and something niggling inside me told me I didn’t deserve her kindness.

Why would I feel that way?

As I dropped my hand, I noticed the drip attached to the back of it—and I caught sight of the tribal tattoo sleeve that made its way up my arm from my wrist. A flashback had me remembering being in a black leather chair as a blonde woman with piercings leaned over me, needle gun poised as she worked on the ink. I closed my eyes trying to grip the memory with my mind. I could see the top of the blonde’s black lace bra as she worked on me. But that’s all I could focus on.

Fuck, I’m some kind of sex-crazed maniac!

I felt heat rise in my cheeks and opened my eyes to meet with Nurse Annie’s expectant gaze. “Oh, sure. Food… food would be good. Thank you.”

“Scrambled eggs and toast? Haggis, maybe?”

“Just the eggs and toast, thank you, ma’am. I have no clue what haggis even is.”

She chuckled at me and shook her head. “Coming right up, handsome.” She gave me a little wink as she turned and left my room.

Glancing around, I looked at the other piece of machinery I had been attached to the day before. The ventilator had gone, but the blood pressure contraption with the cuff was still there. The only equipment I was attached to now was a heart monitor and the drip in my arm. I guessed the contents of the drip was the sleep-inducing drug that had been mentioned a couple times.

A little while later and Annie was back. She removed the drip from my arm and stuck a white Band-Aid over the tender area on the back of my hand. Sliding a table up over my legs, she handed me a plastic fork. The plate of eggs and toast looked like manna from heaven and I damn near wolfed the whole lot down in seconds as Annie sat in a chair in the corner of the room watching. I felt like a fucking museum exhibit and wondered why the hell she felt it necessary to observe my every move. Silently I finished off with a glass of fresh orange juice. The acidity and tang made me squirm a little and Annie laughed.

“Well, you’ve clearly not lost your appetite, young man. That’s very good to see. Doctor Clayton will be with you shortly. And after that, Doctor Darrow will be in too.”

My face must’ve shown the confusion I was feeling at the unfamiliar name.

“Sorry, Doctor Darrow is the psychologist who came to see you yesterday, hon.”

“Psychologist? The sex—uh, the… woman with glasses?” Shit.

She smirked and raised her eyebrows. “That’ll be the one, Kelly is her name, yes. I’ll leave you to it, but use the buzzer if you need anything.” She left the room again; taking all remnants of my breakfast with her and wheeling the drip stand out too.

God, I was bored. And scared. The fact that all the memories I could muster were weird dreams or maybe flashbacks was frightening. Who was I? Why didn’t I know the answer to what should be a simple question?

The door to my room opened and the stern-faced male doctor from the day before walked in. “Good afternoon. How are you feeling today? Any pain?” Either I was experiencing déjà vu or this guy only had one set of fucking questions.

“I’m okay. Apart from the fact that I have no clue who the hell I am or why I’m here.”

He nodded and continued to the thumb through the chart he’d brought in with him.

“Your blood results are improving. You’re making a remarkably fast recovery. Quite astonishing, actually. You’ll be moved to the psychiatry ward later today. You’ll have your own private room, but they have the appropriately trained staff to deal with someone… in your situation.”

“My situation? I’m sorry… I’m not crazy. I just have… what do they call it? Memory loss… or amnesia or what the fuck ever.”

His face became serious. Apparently my abrasive use of language wasn’t to his liking, but I didn’t give a fuck. He cleared his throat. “I’m well aware of that, sir, but the circumstances surrounding your arrival here lead us to believe that there’s more to your story. It’s just a precaution. Doctor Darrow will be able to keep a better watch on you there. The police will also be popping in to see you. We had to notify them of your arrival thanks to the suspicious circumstances. They will have questions for you too, no doubt.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention and my jaw tensed. Okay, so Doctor Sexy would be looking after me. I’d deal with that. But the police? Fuck, why did the mention of them have me on edge? I muttered expletives under my breath and Doctor Clayton responded in a similar way, but I couldn’t make out his words. No doubt more complaints about my language. And then he thankfully left the room.

I drifted in and out of sleep for a while until my door opened again and in came two male orderlies. They began to gather up my charts and various other bits of hospital paraphernalia. One of the guys came to the head of my bed.

“Hi there, pal. We’re movin’ you up to psych. I’ll help you into the wheelchair and you get comfy. We’ll get you there in a jiffy.” I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. His accent was the strongest one I’d come across so far. He helped me clamber down from the bed, and I flopped ungracefully into the chair. My legs were so damned weak; I stood there trembling like Bambi on ice. Something tugged at my dick, and I winced. I felt around discreetly and found a catheter.

Fuck!

The orderly threw a pale blue blanket over my legs and stood behind the chair in readiness. The other guy, the quiet one, held the door open as we passed him. He walked beside us as we made our way down the corridor and into the elevator. Once the doors closed, I watched as the numbers flicked up two floors higher than where we’d been before and braced myself for the car to come to a halt. When it did, the doors opened and I was wheeled down a corridor and through some keypad-entry double doors with a sign over them that said Department of Mental Health. Finally we arrived in a side room and the guys helped me into the bed and arranged my blankets around me before leaving me to rest.

The small amount of exercise had completely exhausted me and I barely had time to wonder when I’d see Doc McSexy before my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed.