Chapter 2
Evan
Icy, thick water forced its way into my nose and mouth, coating my tongue with a briny, metallic taste. I fought against breathing as a band of pressure tightened around my chest. My body betrayed me, gasping and pulling the darkness inside.
Bubbles escaped my lips and floated upward. Or was it downward? Direction had no meaning here.
My clothes dragged me deeper, each inch heavier, until the descent abruptly stopped. Numbness claimed my fingers, then my arms, a prelude to the cold death that was consuming me from the outside in.
There was no impact.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Was this death?
The wet, rhythmic echo rang in my ears, each drop marking time in the darkness.
My heart gave a single, forceful kick against my ribs, then another, starting a frantic rhythm. Each beat sent a shock of electric warmth through my frozen veins, a brutal fight against the cold that had claimed me.
Something solid locked around my waist. Not the water’s suffocating hold, this was different. It hauled with inhuman strength, its touch chasing away the numbness, bringing sensation back to limbs I’d already written off as lost.
That blessed warmth.
“Evan, wake up.”
A thick, cottony haze muffled the words floating somewhere above me.
“Come on, wake up. I know you’re faking.”
The rough, masculine words offered a comfort I couldn’t explain, one that made me want to sink further into the darkness surrounding me.
He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I tried to respond, to insist I wasn’t pretending, but thick fluid choked my airway, and my limbs refused to cooperate. My eyelids wouldn’t budge.
His grip tightened, and a harder shake rattled me straight through. Sensation crept back in, slow and unwelcome.
“I can’t believe you’d try a stunt like this after all you’ve done to me.”
What stunt? The question died in my throat, strangled by a sudden constriction. Pain erupted across my torso. Pressure shot up from behind my sternum in a violent charge, and I was seized by a coughing fit.
Liquid poured from my mouth and lungs in torrents. Muscles I’d forgotten existed screamed back to life. Rolling onto my side and up onto my knees, I braced myself against the ground and covered my mouth, coughing up an ocean.
When the heaving finally stopped, getting my bearings was a struggle. Prying my eyes open revealed only a blinding brightness, and I immediately squeezed one shut. I couldn’t make out what stretched before me. The ground beneath me was damp, a mixture of grass and mud.
“Is this the way to heaven?” I mumbled.
I tried to make sense of where I was, and a gust of wind turned my stomach, carrying a coppery odor that assaulted my senses.
I knew that smell. Murderous intent? Since when could someone smell that?
“Stop sputtering nonsense! Have you finally lost your mind? You were faking. I fell for your trap and came here because you begged me.”
I turned away, blinking hard against the brightness until a shadow fell over me. In the welcoming shade, my vision swam into focus—first boots, then deep brown pants, and a dark blue tunic that spanned a broad chest.
God, he was massive. A whole mountain of a man who made professional bodybuilders seem scrawny loomed over me.
He had an angular jaw and a slightly crooked nose, as if it had been broken more than once. But it was his gaze that stopped me cold, those piercing blue eyes. And were they glowing?
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I had never been selective between men or women since my relationships were always brief, but I’d also never met anyone who made my instincts scream for submission.
“Now you’ve lost all decency. You can’t even control your pheromones!” He flung the accusation at me. “It’s always calling my name, ‘Gregory this, Gregory that.’ Have you looked at yourself? Did you fake falling into the lake to show your indecent body to me?”
My thoughts scattered like startled birds. I blinked hard, trying to piece together where I was, but the edges of my memory kept slipping away. My mouth went desert-dry, my tongue thick and clumsy. When I tried to speak, nothing but a choked croak came out.
Maybe I was in heaven after all, and this angel or guardian, whatever he was, was testing me.
But pheromones? Look at myself? What was he even talking about?
I remembered falling—someone had shot me.
I could never forget the gun or the shattering memory of impact.
That was supposed to be the end. If this was eternity, was I frozen in that final moment?
So I’d stay in the same state as when I died? My soul kept the appearance of my body?
Wincing at the mental image of the gunshot and the forty-two-story fall, I quaked in response. Only everything was entirely different now. My clothes were wrong. Taupe trousers and a beige blouse replaced the gray suit I’d been wearing.
And why was I so slight? As I brushed water off the fabric, my arm drifted without the resistance I expected, lighter and more fragile than I was used to.
The wind shifted, carrying potent, dizzying notes of musky forest and smoldering sandalwood. A subtle breeze grazed my skin, and strange tremors traced my spine.
The bullet hit me. I fell forty-two stories. The breeze, the shivers… It was all so real.
Craning my neck back, I studied the man standing in front of me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words came out foreign, lighter, the notes all wrong. “Where’s my mom? I thought she was supposed to be here.”
With a harsh exhale, Gregory pushed his dripping hair back from his face, water beading and falling from the wet strands. A muscle jumped on his cheek. “Oh, Evan, don’t try it! What is it this time? Pretending to drown wasn’t enough. Now you’re pretending you lost your memory too?”
I curled my hands into fists, nails biting crescents into my palms. I’d just opened my eyes to this angel or devil or whatever the hell he was, and he was accusing me of things I knew nothing about.
The confusion, mixed with indignation, grew until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped. “You’re the one speaking nonsense here. You keep yelling and yapping, and I’m supposed to understand what any of this means?”
Gregory’s jaw dropped, his wrath gone. His reaction would have been funny if I weren’t so pissed off.
Pushing myself up bit by bit, every muscle protested, and dizziness threatened to send me tumbling back down. But my stubbornness wouldn’t let me give up. Not in front of this guy.
When I reached out to secure myself against what I thought was a nearby rock, my hand grasped nothing but air. My balance was off, as if I were operating my body for the first time.
Once I found my feet and met his glowing blue gaze, a pleasant buzz ignited in my core, spreading outward through my veins. A strange tingling prickled under my skin, growing stronger as if I might burst from the pressure.
Every reaction was automatic, a response to a trigger I couldn’t understand. Whatever was happening, it was beyond my control.
Gregory’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. He took a reflexive step back, and his knuckles went white at his sides.
My feet took me forward without permission. Each step was awkward, yet I could not stop. Our chests almost touched, and I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
The height difference was ridiculous. I’d already noticed my body was different. Either this guy was massive, or I was much shorter than my usual six-two. Both possibilities made my head spin.
Despite the way my pulse hammered, I leveled my gaze on him. “I think you’re taking this too far, and I’m getting tired of it. So, tell me, am I in heaven or hell?”
The light in Gregory’s stare burned brighter, its supernatural intensity growing.
A crimson ring formed around those blue orbs, lending them a demonic halo.
That dizzying scent enveloped me again, musky forest and rich sandalwood, so intense it bordered on painful, jolting my system and paralyzing me for a crucial second.
He wrapped his fingers around my neck before I could react and lifted me into the air, my feet leaving the ground in a rush. I swung at him, fighting back with everything I had, but he didn’t yield.
Our faces were only a breath apart now, and every detail of his terrifying eyes burned into my vision when he spoke. “You think a pathetic omega can make an alpha submit with your disgusting pheromones?”
“Omega? Alpha?” I choked out. My mind couldn’t grasp the meaning behind his tirade, but some instinctive part of me recognized it. It was a reaction steeped in an old fear, one that didn’t belong to me.
Gregory’s grip started to sting; his touch was burning against my skin. Then he shoved me backward. The hard landing in the mud sent nausea churning through my gut, a direct result of the skull-crushing agony that dwarfed the pain seizing the rest of my body.
Pressing my fingers against my temple, I expected to feel only dampness. Instead, I found a soft, sticky wetness. Jerking my hand away revealed blood-streaked fingertips, and I gagged at the sight.
Pain throbbed in my skull, my neck stung where he’d gripped me, every muscle ached with the force of the impact, and my rear was bruised. If I were dead, why did everything hurt so much?
As the pain dulled, I finally took in my surroundings. The bright sky had turned overcast with rain threatening. A forest clearing opened up around me—a lake in front and a wooden dock jutting into the water.
This wasn’t New York. This wasn’t anywhere I recognized.
The trees were immense, towering giants that seemed to stretch on without end in every direction. No buildings. No streets. No civilization at all. Only wilderness, unlike anything from my world.
Gregory’s expression went blank, all his anger disappearing. He took a step toward me, leaning in with his hand extended. “I’m sorry, Evan, I… I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry—”
Ignoring him, I jumped up and ran past his outstretched hand. I didn’t need help from the man who had tried to strangle me.
This wasn’t heaven, and he was no angel.
I stumbled toward the lake, desperate to see my face and understand what was happening. I dropped to my knees at the water’s edge and leaned forward, bracing myself against the muddy shore to get a glimpse of my reflection.
The person staring back at me wasn’t me.
Same green eyes, yes. Male. Though his features were softer, more feminine. Ginger hair fell in waves past his shoulders. Freckles dotted his face.
This was a complete stranger—someone younger, prettier, more delicate than I’d ever been—who bore no resemblance to the hardened executive I remembered. Yet I recognized that the reflection, the vibrant hair, and the gentle face belonged to only one person.
My mother stared back at me in this stranger’s image.
After twenty-three years, the dam I held finally gave way. The tears were a hot, blinding sting. A raw, ragged scream ripped from my new lungs, echoing a lifetime of loss across the water.