Chapter 3 SENSORY OVERLOAD

You know the saying that goes - your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. . .?

Yeah, well, that's a bloody lie.

With my eyes closed, I see myself as a toddler, playing with Alexander on a sandy shore. He races a toy car - the size of his fist - on the sand. The picture is in bright vivid technicolor, and oh, so painstakingly slow. It's so slow that I feel a crease take place in between my brows.

The picture takes it's sweet good time to get replaced with another one. This time, It's a scene I'm very familiar with because it happened earlier on today. I'm sitting at the dining table with father and he's reminding me about being mated to Aurthur when I eventually hit the age of twenty one.

The picture doesn't look right, though.

Behind father, and to my left, a shadow hovers. As if willing it to become clearer, I'm shocked when it metamorphoses into a human being. A peeping tom carefully shielded by a pillar. The crease in between my brows increases. I'm still trying to understand what I'm seeing when, like a vortex, I get sucked back to the present.

I snap my eyes open and I'm shocked into silence when instead of the hulking wolves surrounding me, naked men, stand in their place. They're not much older than myself, but what has my eyes almost popping out, is that they're butt naked.

Now. . . I've never seen a naked man in all my eighteen years, except when some of the pack members shift, and even that is short-lived because I always avert my gaze. Staring at the tall, tanned, and muscular men in front of me is a total sensory overload.

I guess it's the same with them because they have a mixture of mild confusion and curiosity, stamped all over their faces as they stare back at me.

There's also something else they're portraying.

Resentment.

But what do they have to be resentful about?

And then it hits me.

I'm in their territory. I'm the enemy here.

A twig snaps, and my eyes shoot open wider - if that is even possible - when they move aside and another naked rogue walks forward. I can't stop staring. He's a head taller than the rest and has a wider build, but he carries himself with a confidence that makes my mouth water.

He moves like a panther. Targeted. Confident. Precise. His gaze never leaves mine. As he comes closer, the heady scent of wood, pine and earth, fills my nostrils. Intoxicating. I breathe him in greedily as I instinctively lean closer.

I catch myself just in time before my treacherous body betrays me.

He comes to a stop in front of me, stormy grey eyes latched onto my face. His eyes seem to drink me in, quite the same way I'm doing to him. Intrigued, I watch as he takes his time to walk his eyes from my sneaker-clad feet, up to my clothes, stopping only when he gets to my face.

His gaze is like a caress as he lazily traces my features with his eyes. Even though I'm fully clothed, I feel totally naked before his scorching gaze. I watch the grey flecks in his eyes change color, mesmerizing me even further. A small scar cuts through his eyebrow, but even that is somehow appealing.

His lips are ruby red, and full, but not too full. His features are chiseled, but not harsh. His body. . . oh, his body is a work of art. Hewed to perfection. He's buff, without being bulky. His stomach is flat, and he's rocking an eight-pack.

"- your name?"

I blink, because . . . damn. His voice is like sap, slowly seeping from a maple. It's low, a bit raspy, like he just woke up.

Who the hell is this guy? Is there some sort of rogue model agency in the forest I'm unaware of?

Now, firsthand, I know the meaning of speechless because I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Not even a squeak.

"Looks like the princess has lost her voice," One of the guys behind says tauntingly.

Hoots sound off all around and I stifle an eye-roll. Irritation flares in the eyes of grey eyes and he raises a finger. The noise immediately seizes, plunging everywhere into an eerie silence.

He leans toward me. He's so close, that his scent surrounds me. In a louder voice, he asks. "What is your name?"

"Layla." The bonds of shock have finally released me and I make sure to move back, putting some distance between us.

"Layla." He rolls my name around his tongue making it sound more like a caress. I'm suddenly jealous of my name. "Weren't you told never to come beyond the copse of trees?"

He points to somewhere behind me but I don't bother looking. Right from when I was old enough to understand, stories have flown left, right, and centre, about rogues and the need to stay far away from the more dense part of the woods.

"I. . . I. . . I'm sorry." I look down at my sneakers, mentally kicking myself for my stuttering.

He cups my chin and lifts my face to his gaze. "You got lost?"

He seems to have cast a spell on me. I feel warm all of a sudden, and sluggish, like I'm wading through water. I'll gladly drown if it means I get to continue experiencing his touch. I stare into his eyes which are now green, and I get lost in their intensity. They swirl with a mystery that is deep and unfathomable. Once again, I'm tongue-tied, and all I can do is nod.

None too soon, his hand leaves my chin, but the warmth and tingles it leaves behind doesn't abate. I think he feels it too, or at least he feels something. His brows crease, and he looks wonderingly at his hand, and then back at me.

He seems to shake himself out of his rumination because he turns and addresses one of the guys. "Kurt, please see to it that Layla gets back home safe and sound."

From one breadth to the next, he walks away until he gets swallowed up by the trees. Once he's gone, I become hyper aware of the biting cold which suddenly sets my teeth chattering.

How do they not feel the cold?

One by one, all the guys leave, except one. Kurt, I believe, and he doesn't look happy to be the one escorting me back. From the ground, he picks up a pair of jeans and slips it on before turning to me. "Come on, Princess."

He reaches out to touch my hand but I sidestep him. "Please keep your hands to yourself, and my name isn't princess."

"Fine, but I didn't see you objecting to having Roman's hand on your face."

Roman.

So that's his name. I keep rolling it around in my head like a mantra as Kurt leads the way back. It's not until I'm close to the edge of the forest that I realize I have a bigger predicament in front of me.

How do I get back into my room without being seen, or father noticing?

As if Kurt hears my unspoken words, he ventures a reply. "I'll talk to one of the guards. He'll get you back in, don't worry."

That's when it dawns on me. I whirl on him so fast, even he is shocked. "You were the one in my room."

He looks away but not before I see the look of alarm on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

This time, I won't take no for an answer. I hold on to his hand. "If you have any honor left in you, please tell me why you were in my room.

Way to go, Layla. Rogues definitely do not have any honor.

Just when I think he's going to cave, he shakes off my hand and turns to me with cold eyes. "It's best when you keep your pretty lips shut for your own sake, but if you really want to know, ask Gavin."

And then he turns and slips back into the woods, leaving me standing and staring after him. This dude left me to fend for myself. Really?

And why did he tell me to ask Gavin, our head warrior, of all people?

With my heart in my mouth, I walk away from the covering of the trees and toward the house. I don't get very far when a hand clamps around my waist and another covers my mouth. My eyes widen and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I struggle.

"Stop struggling, Layla, its me, Gavin." A familiar voice hisses into my ear. "Put this on and follow me, but keep your head down."

I look up to see it is indeed Gavin before looking down at what he thrust into my hand. It's a shift that warriors wear to lounge around in after target practice. I lift grateful eyes to him but he shakes his head. "Don't thank me yet."

He walks off. I quickly slip on the shift and rush after him. A few people stop to chat with him on the way to the house, but I hunch my shoulders, making sure my face isn't visible. Thank the goddess for the hood covering my face.

I recognize the familiar sound and smell of our quarters as we step inside.

"Hey, Gavin." I freeze in my tracks. "Have you seen my sister, Layla? I went to her room but it's locked. I just got back and I'd like to give her some of those sweet treats she loves so much."

I hide behind Gavin's bulky frame. I dare not look up, dare not breathe. If Alexander knows it's me hiding behind Gavin, he'll ask a lot of questions which will definitely open a can of worms.

Gavin grunts out something which seems to satisfy Alexander and he keeps moving. I pass Alexander with my head down, and he doesn't stop me. We make it down the hallway until we reach my bedroom. Gavin inserts the key in the lock and the door is opened. I walk inside quickly, turning round just in time to see Gavin's pitying look.

"I'm sorry, Layla, but I have to. . ."

I nod, because there's no need for words, and then I turn away, just in time to hear the door closing and the lock turning. The exhilaration which had gripped me earlier, fizzles away leaving me feeling empty and hollow. I remove the shift and my clothes before throwing them on the floor and heading to the bathroom.

After taking a long hot shower, I've made up my mind on what to do. Feeling like a coward, I slip under the sheets. Traipsing through the woods has taken it's toll on me as my eyelids become heavy. The last thing I see before drifting off are stormy grey eyes.