Slowly, I turn, and my breath catches. “You’re not dressed.”

His lips lift in that half smile of his. “You’ve never seen a guy without his shirt on?”

I’ve never seen him without his shirt on. And the sight makes my chest tight. He’s showered. His hair is wet and looks black as ink. He runs his fingers through it, sending the longer strands at the top of his head flying in every direction. I inhale the clean, soapy scent of him.

“No boyfriends? What about the rugby captain?” His gaze skims over me, and my face stings even hotter.

“Of course. I have—had a boyfriend.” I wonder at the slip and whether I’m talking about Zac or Sean. I’m not even sure.

“Ah, so you’re experienced then?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” I snap, not liking the implication that I’m a girl with a lot of mileage. That’s the last thing I want him to think. With that idea in his head, he might start to think I’m an easy conquest for him. That I’m just another girl ready to rush at him with kisses when he returns home from a mission. Yeah. Not happening. Save that for Tabatha.

“You said had. You don’t have a boyfriend now, Davy?”

I pause, not sure what Sean is to me. Things weren’t right between us when we parted, and with this time away from him I’m starting to see that whatever romantic future we had was lost when I pulled the trigger on a man to save his life. Right or wrong, things were never the same after that. They never can be. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about Sean. That he’s not special to me and my friend. That I don’t want to get back to him and Gil and Sabine.

And that doesn’t mean I’m somehow available or interested in a new guy. Decent or not. Romance is the last thing I need in my life. Merely existing is complicated enough. Hard enough.

“Davy?” he presses in that deep, lyrical voice of his that makes my skin contract . . . like his voice is something I can actually feel. A feather brushing my skin. “You do, don’t you?” he continues. “You have a boyfriend. There’s someone.” His brown eyes stare at me flatly, the bright amber there dormant, like he’s burying a part of himself away as he announces this.

“I didn’t say that.”

He moves to the door behind me, his bare arm brushing me as he passes. “You didn’t have to say it. That’s why you’re really in such a hurry to leave here. He’s who you want to get back to, right?” He closes the door with a soft click, sealing us in. My nostrils flare. Instantly, I feel caged, penned in.

I turn in a half circle, following him with my eyes.

“What’s his name, Davy?” He angles his head, looking at me intently, waiting like he has all the time in the world. The sound of my name on his lips wakes my skin with a shiver. It feels so intimate. Like we have some connection to each other.

I shake my head, pressing my lips into a hard line, refusing to go there with him . . . to get this personal, this close.

And there’s also the niggling little voice in me, warning that if I say Sean’s name out loud, then it’s an acknowledgment of what Caden is asking me. That Caden is then somehow right. That Sean is my boyfriend. He’s many things to me—all complicated, but he’s not that.

“It’s not a trick question.” He arches one eyebrow. “His name?” The question hangs in the space of his room. I glance around, scanning the surroundings. Bed. Desk. A single chest. A large map covers one wall. Very utilitarian. For some reason I have a flash of my girlified bedroom back home. That room that belongs to some other girl. That girl would never be here. This place looks like a soldier’s cell. And Caden the consummate warrior. Even if he does smile too much and come off as decent, his body hums with a tension, an energy, that puts me on edge. Like he could snap into motion at any time. I saw a glimpse of it when I woke in that cave with him. I’m sure if I stay here much longer, I will see evidence of it again.

Maybe being alone with him isn’t such a good idea. I curve my hand over my arm resting in the sling. Like hugging myself can somehow protect me.

He pulls back slightly, cocking his head again as he crosses his arms over his chest. I remember how solid that chest felt when he carried me. My eyes flick over him for a moment, skimming his lean torso, the golden-brown skin, before locking on his eyes again. Don’t go there.

He continues, “So which one is it? Sean or Gil?”

I compress my lips.

His eyes glint. Clearly he’s enjoying himself. “Not going to admit it then? What’s wrong? Have I gotten in your head? You can’t resist me and don’t want me to worry about this MIA boyfriend. . . .”

Outrage burns through me. I inhale sharply and for some crazy reason I feel the need to run. “No!”

He chuckles that damn laugh of his and I know he’s teasing me, but I’m not amused.

“You talk too much,” I accuse, pushing back down that swell of panic.

He laughs harder at that.

“And laugh too much,” I add.

His smile deepens, if that’s even possible. “Now, what’s wrong with laughing?”

“What’s wrong is that there isn’t anything to laugh about, is there? Certainly nothing to be happy about.”

“You don’t believe that. Now more than ever, it’s important to find reasons to smile and laugh. To have friends. To love.”

For some reason, heat swarms my face. I blink at him. Suddenly his gaze feels too much. Too probing. I struggle to sound normal and unaffected as I demand, “Are you kidding me? How do you manage to be so unflinchingly optimistic?” I wave my good arm wide. “We’re in an underground bunker in the middle of nowhere.” I start counting off, trying to pretend that I don’t notice him inching closer, wearing an expression of mockery. “The United States government has herded our kind into detention camps that we’ve barely escaped. They’ll shoot us on sight. Isn’t that the current protocol? And we’re fleeing into a country that doesn’t want us, either. They haven’t declared outright war on us yet like here, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they decide to put more effort into stopping us. Then what? How will these refuges”—I air-quote with my free hand—“hold up? There’s nowhere in the world for us to go.”