Chapter One

I woke with my cheek pressed to damp earth, sunlight stabbing through my eyelids. I opened them and immediately regretted it. Pain throbbed behind my forehead, intensifying with every ray of light. I closed my eyes again and focused on the forest around me. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. Damp earth and pine filled my lungs. I didn’t recognize any of it.

When I tried to move, pain spread through my body. I forced myself upright and looked down. Bruises covered my arms and legs. Blood—some dry, some still wet—streaked my skin. Several wounds looked disturbingly like bite marks. My clothes hung from me in shredded strips. I was soaked, though no water surrounded me. Beyond the patch of ground where I lay, trees stretched in every direction.

Where was I?

And how had I gotten there?

I planted my palms in the dirt and pushed myself upright. The moment I tried to stand, my legs buckled. I crashed back to the ground, sending pain shooting through my knees and spine. For a moment, I could only lie there and breathe. I searched my mind for anything—a name, a place, a memory—but found nothing. The pounding in my head made it difficult to think, and the pain spreading through my body made it nearly impossible to concentrate.

Nothing came.

I couldn’t remember what I had been doing, where I had come from, or even how I had ended up in the forest. How had I lost my memory?

A sudden tingle ran up my spine, followed by a tightness in my chest. I couldn’t remember my name. I didn’t know where I came from—or who had done this to me. My breathing quickened. I tried to draw in a full breath, but my lungs seemed to stop working. The thought that I had been beaten or tortured flashed through my mind, and terror surged through me. I screamed, unable to contain my frustration and fear. Pain throbbed behind my eyes and spread through every muscle and joint. I pressed my hands against the ground, willing myself to calm down, but the panic refused to loosen its grip. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours before my breathing finally began to slow.

I lay there, exhausted, forcing myself to think rationally. I needed to find help. There had to be a town or a road somewhere nearby—somewhere people could treat my injuries. But first, I had to answer the question that frightened me most:

Who was I?

Once the panic subsided, I pushed myself to my feet. My legs trembled beneath me, and I swayed until I found my balance. The pain in my head flared, but I couldn’t stay there. I had to move. I glanced down at my battered body. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what had happened to me, but I knew I needed help. In this condition, strangers might mistake me for an addict or someone who had caused trouble. They might not believe me—or they might decide I was dangerous.

Still, I had no choice. I pushed through the thick brush and began walking.

My legs were trembling by the time I heard running water. I quickened my pace, following the sound through the trees until I emerged into a clearing.

A waterfall cascaded down the mountainside into a clear lagoon. Mist drifted across the surface, cooling my face. I hurried to the edge and dropped to my knees, cupping the water in my hands and drinking desperately.

The cold water refreshed me almost immediately.

I scanned the clearing. No one was in sight. When I was certain I was alone, I stripped off what remained of my clothes and lowered myself into the lagoon. The water was colder than I expected, and I hissed as it touched my wounds, but I forced myself to stay submerged.

I scrubbed at the blood covering my skin. Some of it had dried, while other stains were still fresh. I couldn’t tell how much belonged to me—and how much belonged to someone else.

As the water washed away the blood, I saw the full extent of my injuries. Deep cuts, spreading bruises, and marks that looked disturbingly like bites covered my arms, legs, and torso. These wounds hadn’t come from an accident. I couldn’t remember what had happened, but the evidence pointed to one terrifying possibility: someone—or something—had attacked me.

Pain flared through my body, forcing me to stop examining the wounds. I would deal with them later. For now, I needed to rest.

A twig snapped.

I froze.

Someone stood on the opposite bank, watching me. All I could see clearly were his striking green eyes.

A young man emerged from the trees—the same direction I had come from. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with an athletic, muscular build and dark curls falling across vivid green eyes. Shirtless, he stopped at the edge of the clearing when he saw me. His expression was wary—not cruel, but not reassuring either. Despite my fear, I couldn’t stop staring.

He wasn’t alone. Two women and two other men followed him into the clearing. They stopped at the edge of the lagoon, all of them staring at me with confused, questioning expressions.

I wanted to climb out of the water and run, but I could barely stand, let alone escape. Besides, I had nothing to cover myself with. I sank lower, though the crystal-clear water did little to hide me.

“Hey,” the shirtless man said. His voice was deep and husky. “My name is Caine. These are my friends. What’s your name?”

I stared at him, frozen. No answer came.

Caine took a cautious step forward. One of the men caught Caine by the arm, his expression tightening. Caine glanced back at him, then returned his attention to me. Whatever silent warning had passed between them, Caine ignored it and continued toward the water.

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

My throat tightened. I sank a little deeper into the lagoon. “I don’t know.”

Caine stopped. Confusion crossed his face, quickly followed by suspicion. He studied me as if trying to decide whether I was telling the truth.

“I don’t remember my name,” I continued. “I don’t know where I came from or where I am. What I do know is that I’m injured and need help. I don’t have any clothes, and I don’t know any of you. But you’re the first people I’ve seen since I woke up.”

I swallowed hard.

“Please,” I said. “Can you help me?”