Page 146 of Dark Night of the Soul

Kincade met his gaze, something ancient and immovable settling behind his eyes.

“Good,” he said. He moved to stand between the two of us.

I had the strange certainty that Kincade wasn’t happy Ulrich had declared his like for me so openly.

And that delighted me.

“Well,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice, “this has all been… enlightening. But I’m exhausted and going to bed. Ulrich, it was nice to meet you.”

And before either of them could respond, I turned and headed for the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.

I woke up alone. Which was fairly normal these days. Perhaps he’d stayed up the rest of the night catching up with Ulrich. Or he liked being awake all the time. I honestly didn’t know.

When I rolled over and looked at the clock, I sat up straight. It was mid-afternoon! I never slept that long.

I tumbled out of bed, flung open the bedroom door, and headed down the short hallway—

—and stopped dead.

Kincade. Ulrich. And a man I didn’t recognize.

I took in the scene in a single, mortifying glance and became acutely aware that I was standing there in sleep shorts and a tank top.

I froze.

They gaped.

The new guy smirked and said, “Well, hello, pretty.”

Oh, fuck. This wasn’t going to go well. I looked at Kincade, who only lifted a brow at the man’s flirty remark.

“I—uh,” I said, already backing away. “I should get dressed.”

I fled back to the bedroom and shut the door behind me.

What in the hell was going on out there? Was he seriously entertaining guests while I snoozed the day away?

I leaned my head against the door and counted to five to calm my nerves.

Sleep shorts. Tank. Two men I didn’t know.

Fantastic.

Talk about first impressions.

My face burned as I crossed the room and jerked open the duffel, rifling through my limited belongings. It wasn’t like I had a lot of choices here. I pulled on black cargos and a long-sleeved shirt over the tank, stuck my feet in boots and quickly tied them.

One glance in the mirror as I passed the dresser. Crap. I didn’t even own a brush. But I did have a hair tie. I ran my fingers through tangled hair and then pulled it up into a high ponytail. Signature Anna.

Then, taking a deep breath, I stood there and reminded myself where I was. This was no longer isolated Istanbul or the cabin in God-knows-where. This was Quiet Watch territory, and I was getting a baptism-by-fire introduction to it.

Fine. If this was how it worked—strange men appearing while I slept, meetings happening without me—then I needed to establish my place here. Make it clear I wasn’t Kincade’s plus-one.

I decided to walk back out there as casually as possible and pretend everything was fine.

Sure.

So, I did. And the moment I stepped into the hallway, the new guy eyed me.