He turned slightly, and her breath caught. He was rubbing the soapy cloth over his groin. She quickly raised her gaze to the symbols arcing across his chest. Though they were marred by a couple of bruises—his chest seemed to have fared better than the rest of him—she was almost sure they were battle marks.

Battle marks had a kind of a presence about them, as if they were alive. And these made her hands tremble with the urge to touch them. She did look away then, keeping her eyes closed so she wasn’t tempted to find the hole again.

“That’s better,” he said, nudging the blanket down. His clothes were still dirty, but his skin was clean, and the swelling in his face was going down. He healed quickly. “I’ll hold it for you, if you’d like?”

She balked at the thought of undressing so near a strange man, especially one this hot, but after moving stones in the chapel and fighting the guard, she needed to clean up. It would take more than water to erase the feel of the guard straddling her. Watching his blood drain from his body might help.

After the prisoner raised the blanket high enough to block his face, she stripped off her dirty gown and panties and laid them beside her bra. She could hear him breathing on the other side of the blanket. Using the second washcloth and the bar of soap, she washed her face first, the warm water making her long for a bathtub. She washed her body next, hurrying as the man’s breath grew ragged. Holding the blanket at face level must be a strain with his body still weak. Or perhaps he’d also found the hole.

She sped through her routine, pleased to find basic toiletries—toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and deodorant. What kind of place was this? Beat a man with a whip, then give him toothpaste and deodorant.

“I’m finished,” she said, and he dropped the blanket, his eyes glittering as he stared at her. He draped the blanket over his arm. “Do you want to sit?”

The stone bench was the only place to sit besides the floor, so they both sat on the bench, side by side. Anna shivered, and he handed her the blanket. “You take it. I’m not cold.”

He was lying. When his arm brushed hers, she could feel the chill of his skin. This place was like a freezer. How could it be so much colder here than it had been at Faelan and Bree’s? It felt more like January than early November. Was that part of his torture? Freeze him half to death?

“Thank you.” She wrapped it around her, leaving an edge free for him. “If we sit closer, we can share it.”

He nodded and scooted next to her. She could still smell the blood on his kilt and shirt, but his body smelled clean, male. It gave her the strangest sensation, sitting in near darkness with a man she didn’t know, who she suspected was a warrior, though he didn’t know it. Could he be Austin, the warrior from Canada who’d been attacked by vampires on the way to meet Angus? This place had vampires. Austin could have followed them here after the attack. But he didn’t sound Canadian. He sounded like a Scot. And while tattoos were popular, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a man in a kilt—less so in America—there were too many signs that he was a warrior. His appearance, his manner, the way he moved. And those marks. If they weren’t battle marks, why did she feel like they were whispering to her?

They sat side by side, wrapped in the blanket. His body was warm next to hers, making her sleepy. Unnaturally so. Had the guard put something in her food? She tried to imagine how it would have been for him, here alone, beaten, no memories, no answers, and no one to talk to except his tormentors. He must be strong, mentally as well as physically. “I don’t how you’ve survived being here.”

“I don’t have a choice. I can’t let them kill me. So I sit here night after night waiting to remember something, waiting for them to make a mistake so I can escape.”

“I’m sorry. I promise, we’ll find a way out of here.”

He gave her a puzzled glance. “You must have had a hard life,” he said.

His words surprised her. There was no way he could know about her past. She didn’t talk about it. “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve never seen a woman so…” He seemed to be searching for the word. “Strong,” he finally said, but Anna didn’t think that was his first choice.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure it was a compliment. All warriors were strong, but she didn’t tell him that. She couldn’t tell him who she was until she was sure who he was. Clan secrets had to be kept. “You’re strong too. You would have to be to survive the torture. The tattoos on your chest, you don’t recall getting them?”

He touched his chest. “No. It’s an odd thing what being alone does to you, having no idea who you are. Sometimes…” He paused and gave her a sheepish grin that made her body feel weightless. “Sometimes I feel like the marks are talking to me. Barmy, aye?”

If the marks were what she thought, it wasn’t barmy at all. Her battle marks had kept her sane many times. Another cry sounded from outside. The hybrid? “What is this place?” she said, shuddering.

“The guards don’t talk much, other than taunting me.”

“Lance is sneaky. I couldn’t see the man he was talking to just before I followed him, but he doesn’t want the fat guard to know about it.”

“Did you recognize the man he was talking to?”

“No. But he was huge.” Not many men were that size. Maybe he wasn’t a man. Could he have been the master? But why would Lance be sneaking around? Anna squirmed trying to get more comfortable. The bench was hard.

“Are you still cold?”

“I’m fine.” He must not have believed her, or he was still cold himself. He shifted, somehow making their bodies fit together even tighter. She did start to feel warmer.

“Does Lance know you followed him?” He stifled a yawn.

“He does. I told the fat guard, Bart. Lance wasn’t happy. He wanted him to kill me. I wonder what he’s hiding that’s so important.”

The prisoner turned and stared at her, which put them almost nose to nose. Or nose to shoulder. He was a lot taller than she was. “He must be trying to silence you. One of us will have to stay awake in case he comes back. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll keep watch.”

“You need rest more than I do. You’re injured.” But she was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. “I think we’ve been drugged.”

“I suspect you’re right. I feel unusually sleepy. The guards have been on edge. Their master is coming soon. You sleep first. I’ll rest in a bit.”

She tried to stay awake, but her eyelids were too heavy. She woke in the night, warm. His arm was around her shoulders, and she was slumped against him. He’d tucked the blanket around her and was holding it in place. She straightened, scanning the cell to see if they were alone. They were. His arm tightened around her, and he leaned his head against hers. There was something so comforting about the position that she ignored her numb butt.

“Are you all right?”

“Just stiff.”

He shifted. “Aye, I can’t feel my arse. Wish I couldn’t feel my back.”

Leaning against the wall couldn’t be doing his wounds any good.

“We could stretch out on the floor,” he said.

But that would be even more intimate. They were in a prison dungeon. Did it matter? They both rose slowly. “I wish there was a bed.”

In the darkness, she saw him glance at her breasts. “Aye. The floor’s not much for sleeping. I’d rather have the ground and soft leaves.”

It would be an improvement over stone. They chose a spot near the corner of the cell. He spread the blanket, and she lay down near the edge. Without words, he lay next to her on his side, close, but not touching. He pulled the remaining half of the blanket over them.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Your chattering teeth tell a different story.”

“Guess they don’t want to pay the heat bill.” She’d never been this bothered by cold. It must be the drug.

“I can move closer, if that’s all right.”

She would have let him lie on top of her to get rid of this chill. Or maybe it was the drug. She wouldn’t have minded letting him do more than just get rid of the chill. That wasn’t like her. “Thank you,” she said, and he shifted closer. She turned on her side, and he tucked the blanket tighter around them. She could feel him brush against her, but not pressing. “There must be someone wondering where you are.” Maybe a wife who might be upset that his body was tucked against hers. If she loved him, she’d be more upset at what they’d done to him than who he was sharing his body warmth with.

“I would hope.”

He sounded so lost, Anna’s heart broke a little for him. With no memory of who he was, he was completely alone. “It must be terrible not to remember your name or where you came from. Where your family is.” Not that she had a family now. Her only family was her friends. Did they even know she was missing? Were they in danger? Lance’s buddy could have already attacked them. If something happened to them, she would be as alone as the prisoner.

“Aye,” he said softly. “It is that.”

She wanted to help him. All she could do was share her body heat. “When we get out, I’ll help you find them.” And she was determined to get them out.

“That’s very kind of you.”

She lay there feeling his heart beat against her back and the movement of his chest as he breathed. And she was glad she wasn’t alone.

After a moment, his voice brushed her ear. “I’ve no memories of my own. Perhaps you could share something of yours with me? Tell me about when you were a child.”

She never talked about her childhood. But somehow here in the dungeon with this stranger who had no memories, it seemed safe. Whatever she had, good or bad, it was more than he had.