I woke with a jolt, my cheek resting on scratchy sackcloth fabric, drool streaming from my lips.

As the fog of sleep cleared from my mind, I tried to focus my vision. Slowly, I pushed myself up to my elbows, and my stomach clenched as I took in the space around me. Thick shadows climbed the walls. When I looked down at myself, I took in my mud-splattered legs, my chipped pink toenails, my short, tattered dress. My astrolabe was nowhere to be found.

I blinked, realizing that I was on a scratchy cot in the corner of a damp, stony room. A single candle in a sconce lit the room, and I strained to see in the dim light. I glanced at the closed wooden door, certain it would be locked.

Could this situation get any worse?

When I looked up again, I realized the answer to that question.

Silver-flecked blue eyes surrounded by dark, thick lashes stared back at me. My abductor stepped out of the shadows, and a flicker of dim candlelight wavered over his handsome features. His pale hair was shorn close to his skull, and his lips quirked in a dark smile.

He wore a tight T-shirt, showcasing the powerful arms folded in front of his chest. Despite his simple clothes, he managed to exude a certain sensual decadence. Was it his smell? The silver rings glinting on his fingers?

But what stood out the most was that he was glaring at me like he really, really hated me. It was so intense that I had to drop my gaze.

“You were in one of my visions, weren’t you?” I asked, staring at my mud-spattered legs. “You’re one of the six warriors.” I forced myself to meet his gaze again, even as anger roiled in my chest. “And you took Holly.”

“You should know by now that it’s more complicated than that,” he said, his voice low and accented. Something Northern European, I thought.

“Is that a yes?” I snapped, losing my patience.

The noise he let out was a low growl that I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard from a human before, and so quiet I almost wondered if I’d imagined it. It made my skin tingle all the same. “What do you remember?”

“I’m aware that we have a… history, spanning centuries. And given the way you’re looking at me like you want to rip my throat out, I’m guessing we have some bad history. But whatever you think I did, I don’t even remember it. I’ve seen flashes, glimpses of the past. That’s it. That old version of me—the warrior with the shield and the sword—she’s not me anymore. I watch The Bachelor. I drink boxed wine. I move from one shitty job to another, mopping floors of cafes. That’s who I am.”

His pale eyes flashed, and I clenched my jaw. Shut up, Dawn. I was his prisoner, and I had to keep my wits about me. I could already tell that emotions ran deep with this guy—he loved deeply and hated with equal passion.

My fingers tightened into fists. How could I possibly know that about him? I wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from—maybe from the long-forgotten recesses of my mind. Just like the memories that came in flashes when I kissed my guys.

My guys. I guessed that’s what I was calling them now.

I lowered my face into my hands, wondering if I was losing it. A headache throbbed in my skull, and my whole body ached. Underneath my fury at this abduction, I felt completely and utterly defeated, in body and in mind.

“Sleep,” he said harshly.

“Wait,” I managed to say. “Where is Holly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hogwash. I saw you in her apartment the night she was taken.”

He simply stared at me, and the temperature seemed to cool in the room, the candle flickering.

Okay. I’d find her without his help.

“Blankets? Clothes?” I gestured at the sodden, muddy dress I was wearing.

He looked me over, lingering a little too long over my bare thighs and strapless neckline before pulling his gaze away with what looked like considerable effort. Once he’d managed that task, his features instantly darkened into loathing once again.

He disappeared with a slam of the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sound of dripping water.

Well. This is going great.

I hugged myself, desperately wishing that my magical powers involved the ability to turn back time—that I could go back a few days, to when Holly and I were sitting in the cemetery, bathed in sunlight. I’d warn her. I’d tell her that the gods of luck were not on our side, and that we had to leave at any cost.

I rose from the cot, inspecting the room. In the dim light, I noticed an arched doorway opening into darkness. I pulled the candle from the sconce, then walked barefoot over the stone floor. A flicker of hope lit in my chest. A hallway?

When I crossed through the doorway, that hope was quickly extinguished. Candlelight washed over a small bathroom with a simple tub in the center of the room. No windows, no doors. At least I’d be able to wash myself and pee when I needed to.

Sebastos... Balthazar... Raphael. I need you. Where are you?

I crossed back into the bedroom and slid the candle into the sconce. Then I threw myself down on the cot again.

After another minute, the doorknob creaked, and I jolted upright.

My captor came into the room and threw a crisp blue shirt at me, a button-down like the one Balthazar had given me. The insanity of the situation was really getting to me, and for some reason, this was almost the last straw; I could feel a near hysteria bubbling in my chest. I gripped the smooth, freshly washed silk, my fingers knotting in it. He’d kidnapped me, then thrown one of his freshly cleaned shirts at me.

He left without another word, the lock clicking shut behind him. I stared down at the silk, then brought it to my nose. It smelled of icy mountain winds and, faintly, of creosote. Just like I’d smelled in Holly’s apartment.

And all at once, the familiarity of that smell crashed over me like a powerful ocean wave from the ancient depths of my mind, beyond Holly’s disappearance. I knew that scent like I knew my own.

Whoever this guy was, we definitely had a history.

* * *

On what I thought was the fourth morning of my captivity, I sulked on the cot, still wearing one of my captor’s shirts and pretty much nothing else. Anger clenched my chest. The fact that he’d kept bringing me clean shirts did little to quell the rage I felt for him. My legs dangled over the side of the cot, and I stared sullenly at the floor.

The psycho had kidnapped me and trapped me in an empty room with nothing to read and only bread to eat. I kind of wanted to strangle him with one of his own silk sleeves right now.

Still, rage would get me nowhere. Catch more flies with honey and all that.

A thin ray of morning sunlight streamed into the room from a tiny slit of a window high above my head. A new day. One more without.

After all my time here, I still didn’t know the man’s name. Desperation tightened my chest. The guys from the Academy weren’t coming for me. Maybe they couldn’t, or maybe they didn’t want to. Maybe they had no idea where to find me. In any case, they weren’t here, and I was. The longer time stretched on, the more I began to lose hope.

And I was nearly positive that Holly was in this building somewhere with me. First he’d captured my guardian angel—and then me.

When the door creaked open, as it had done every day for the past four, I straightened in my cot, catching my captor’s eye. The cold fury in his icy eyes once again sent a chill over my skin.