Laughing under my breath, I pushed him away. “Stop it. If we start, we won’t get this over with.” And I really want this over with so we can leave. I was spooked for reasons I couldn’t explain.

God, everything hurt. Beyond hurt—agony. No, beyond agony—excruciating torture.

My vision was black, my lungs choking on smoke, and my entire body belonged to eternal flames.

The sound of tires squealing and then the rush of footsteps echoed in my roaring ears. All I could focus on was the crackle and spit of fire. It lived inside me, turning my thoughts to ash.

“Hello. Can you hear me?”

I screamed as something touched my charred arm.

“Don’t touch her. I’ll call an ambulance.”

My life flickered in and out, half in this world, half in the nether. All I remembered was pain, pain, and more pain.

Then bright lights and scents of antiseptic.

“We can’t treat her here. We don’t have the necessary equipment. We’ll arrange an airlift and get her to the closest doctor who can save her.”

“Will she live?”

My ears fought the whooshing sound of fire to lock onto the answer.

Will I live?

Do I want to live?

What is there to live for?

“I don’t know. It’s all on her. Let’s just hope she has someone to pull her through. Did you find any identification? Family we can call?”

My heart picked up its sluggish beat, fighting back the crippling pain.

Family.

Yes, I had family.

Didn’t I?

I screamed again as the pain began to delete everything inside. I grasped harder to each tendril as the flames turned inward, devouring my past, my sanity, my very essence of who I was until I had nothing but emptiness.

I was blank.

The flashback ended. I stumbled, even now feeling the torture of surviving the fire. For once I found my amnesia a blessing. I wished I could’ve continued to forget that crippling agony.

“You okay? Shit, Cleo, you’re shaking.” Arthur wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His body heat was comforting but too stifling after the memory of being burned alive.

I pulled away, rubbing my hands over my face. “Yes, I’m okay. Just—let’s keep moving. I need… I need to keep moving.” My voice was brittle and I knew if Arthur asked me one more time if I was okay, I would lose it.

At least now I knew how I’d been taken far away after crawling through the undergrowth and passing out in a ditch. All I’d known was I had to run. Had to crawl. Had to flee in any way possible.

The nice people who’d found me had probably saved my life in more ways than one—not just my immediate predicament but taking me far away, too.

Who had wanted to kill me?

What had I done to warrant it?

Arthur stood locked in place. The look in his eyes battled with questions and the need to help.

But he honored my wish. Whispering softly, he said, “This way.” Taking my hand, he ran a thumb over my scarred knuckles, granting me an anchor of our love. “One glimpse, then we’ll go, Cleo. I don’t want you here anymore. I hate to think of you reliving things that you’re afraid to tell me.” His gaze dropped to my scarred leg, brimming with hate and regret and sorrow.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for understanding.”

Nodding once, he guided me the remaining way. The undergrowth thinned as we moved closer to our destination.

The high wooden fence appeared as if from nowhere, dappled with late-afternoon sunshine and stencils of leaves. The top was protected by vicious curls of barbed wire.

Every paling was straight and perfect, no warped wood or rot to be seen the entire length of the perimeter.

“What is this place?”

Arthur tugged me closer, his large boots surprisingly quiet on the strewn leaf matter and twigs. My sneakers, on the other hand, seemed to find every crackle and snap available.

Not stopping until we were in touching distance of the fence, he pulled me to stand in front of him. Backing me against the wood, he splayed his hands on either side of my head.

The intense look blazing in his green eyes undid me.

My mind raced with need. My core twisted at the thought of him taking me. Here. Now. In the middle of wherever the hell we were.

I wanted sex. I wanted to affirm I was still here. Still alive. Still his—regardless that so much had happened to prevent it.

My lips parted, breathing shallow.

His eyebrow quirked, lust shadowing his face. “As much as I’d like to give in to the idea of taking you here, Buttercup, there is no way in hell I’m dropping my guard down around this place.”

I knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the disappointment dousing my face.

Bowing his head, he nuzzled into my throat. “Fuck, stop looking at me like that.” His hips arched against mine, a soft groan falling from his lips.

My hands shot up and wrapped in his hair as his chest brushed against my nipples. “You better move, Art, otherwise I won’t be focusing on anything but you.”

Swallowing hard, he deliberately leaned away, keeping his hands splayed on the palings. Gritting his jaw, he ordered, “Look through the fence. Then we can leave.”

“Look through the fence?”

He nodded, swirling his finger in the air, motioning me to turn around.

Carefully I spun on the spot, twisting in the barricade of his arms. A piece of wood had a natural knot, which had fallen away, leaving an eye-shaped spy hole.