Prologue
“...her name?”
“Hannah. Hannah Raven.” From out of a baffling cacophony of sound, Hannah heard the voice of her best friend, Zenni. Oh, thank God. Zenni was there. Everything would be okay now.
But still...
Something’s wrong.
The world spun wildly, tossing her sideways, then upside down, then God knew where, like she was caught in a dryer and couldn’t get out. That didn’t make sense. How could she be caught in a dryer? And why did her best friend sound so panicked? Where were they? Hadn’t they already left Chicago Pulse, the paper where they worked together?
No, wait.
What’s happening?
She and Zenni had left work, but not together. Hannah remembered now. She had hoped to meet up with her friend later at a new nightclub’s grand opening that they were supposed to be covering for the newspaper’s Gossip section. Zenni had finally shown up with some hottie to make out with, so Hannah had left her to it. She was fine with working the nightclub angle on her own.
The nightclub was the last thing she remembered. After that...
Nothing.
Where was she?
I don’t know where I am.
A whisper of panic hit somewhere so deep it didn’t leave a mark, even as Zenni’s voice sounded once more. “Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening. Hannah is always so careful about what she ingests. Should we call an ambulance for her, or get her to the hospital ourselves? We don’t even know what Rapey McBastard dosed her with—”
Ambulance? Hannah tried to make the question come out, but the word lost its way from her brain to her mouth. What was an ambulance? She couldn’t quite hold on to that word. It sounded important. More alarms jangled through her, close to where she tumbled in that strange soup of fog and noise.
“I’ve already called for an ambulance, Zenni. ETA, two minutes.” The voice that answered was unfamiliar—deep, masculine. Authoritative in an I’m-in-charge kind of way, and it wrapped around Hannah like a blanket. It was the voice of a man who knew how to make everything right in the world. “She’s going to be fine, you have my word on that.”
“Good,” Hannah whispered, still not sure what they were talking about. But knowing the owner of that voice had everything locked down and under control sparked off a soothing wave of relief. Because...
Something’s very wrong.
No, no, no.
That wasn’t quite right.
Something was very wrong with her.
Was she sick?
She didn’t remember being sick. In fact, she didn’t remember anything beyond being at the new nightclub, doing her job. But now, they’d called an ambulance.
And an ambulance was...
She frowned, reaching for that elusive word so hard she groaned. Damn it, she knew what an ambulance was, she was almost sure of it.
It was something people needed when they were sick, or dying.
Oh God, what’s wrong with me?
“What’s happening?” The question stumbled from her misfiring brain and fell out of her mouth, the slurring words barely coherent. Her tongue wouldn’t work. She couldn’t feel her lips. She could barely make them move. She couldn’t even feel her body.
Why can’t I move? I need help. Please, please, someone help me...
“I think she’s coming around.” That deep voice of comfort was close, and there were hands touching her—on her throat, on her face. Light registered in a dim sort of way as those hands opened her eyes one at a time. “Yeah, you can hear me, can’t you, Hannah? Open your eyes and tell me you can hear me.”
Bossy, she wanted to say, but this time around her vocal cords refused to work and the response faded into the spinning fog surrounding her brain. But the order to open her eyes took root, and slowly she dragged them open.
The world swam.
“Oh no.” The moan came out all on its own as that amorphous panic fluttered again. Everything was wrong, just wrong, and she couldn’t figure out why. “Help me, please. I’m not... I’m not...”
“Easy, now. I am helping you.”
“But I’m not... I’m not...”
“Shh, you’re safe now.” Something compressed around her. Arms, maybe. Like a hug. “Focus on my voice. Focus on knowing you’re safe.”
“Safe.” Safe was good. It made the panic go away.
“You heard me right, beautiful.” A hand caressed over her hair. Mm. Nice. “Nothing’s going to hurt you now that I’m here, you got that? I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again.”
Again? “I’m not... I’m not... I’m not okay.” Yes. Finally got the damn words out.
“I know. But you will be. I’ll make you all better.” Again that pressure squeezed around her, spilling warmth throughout her body, until she could feel her arms and legs once more.
Thank goodness.
“Who.” The world refused to come into focus, and it infuriated her. She had to know who was talking to her. With what felt like the last of her strength, Hannah blinked and concentrated hard on the face hovering above hers. Through the tilt-a-whirl dizziness turning her stomach inside out, she could make out dark eyes and hair, and a face so beautiful it couldn’t possibly be real. God, this was such a trippy dream, or maybe even a full-fledged nightmare. Was he an angel? “Who are you?”
“I’m your man, Hannah,” the dream figure-slash-angel told her, and it sounded like a promise. “Hold on to those words and know you’re safe. I’m your man, now and forever.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and let the fog take her away once more.