Warmth.

  As Soraya drifted back into consciousness, all she could feel was warmth. Even the air she was breathing felt warm, relaxing her as it entered her lungs, infusing her blood with soothing, fragrant oxygenated scents.

  Or rather, scents.

  She inhaled deeply. A symphony of aromas graced her nose. She couldn’t describe what exactly she was smelling, but with each breath, divine scents lulled her into a state of pure calm. She burrowed her nose into the warmth and realized the warmth was soft.

  As her senses were slowly coaxed awake, she could feel the softness and the warmth wrapped all around her curled form. Like she was completely enveloped in a cloud of fleece, drifting through the air of an enchanted garden.

  Spices, sweet, earthly, and other natural scents she couldn’t put her finger on were all present in the garden.

  Garden?

  Soraya awoke with a start.

  Jerking upright, for the hundredth time it would seem, she looked around herself, heart jumping in her throat.

  Frog monsters, a winged demon—Jesmine.

  For a panicked moment, she swung her gaze around…her room.

  She was in her room. In bed. As if nothing had happened.

  A soft breeze rattled her blinds, sending the curtains fluttering at the edge of her bed. Buttery soft yellow light spilled through the slats, splashing across her lap and illuminating dust motes swirling in the air.

  Heart beating in her chest, she pinched her forearm, making sure she wasn’t dreaming. The pinch stung, confirming she was indeed awake.

  The nightmare she had…it felt too vivid, too real.

  Licking her lips and still feeling drowsy, her heart slowly eased into a steady thump in her chest as she realized everything was fine. She was safe. Ahvi was more than likely waking up to go to work, and Jesmine…she will be snuggled up in her bed.

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  She was back at the apartment, and she was safe.

  Snuggling back down into the coat, cloaks, and jackets cocooning around her, she closed her eyes once more and began to drift off—

  Her eyes shot wide open.

  Shooting back up, she looked around herself with more scrutiny. There was a mountain of clothing surrounding her. All of which didn’t belong to her and were twice, if not quadruple, her size.

  Easing out from under the clothes, she stood and stared at the sea of textile materials on her bed. Beneath them all lay a silver-gray cloak large enough to be a blanket.

  She leaned down to inspect the different colored garments; something fluttered over the tops of her knees like a whisper.

  Startled, she looked down at herself and became confused at the overly large shirt hanging loosely around her frame.

  Picking at the cream-colored fabric, she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. The shirt was soft, softer than anything she’d felt in her life. It had short sleeves that looked as though they should have been cut off at her upper arms, but instead sagged down around her elbows. Only a crisscrossed lace closure kept the neckline from gaping open—otherwise, her breast would be on full display. Though it did little to hide the outline of her breast or the pebbled peaks of her nipples from protruding out.

  She could also feel that she wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath it.

  What also piqued her curiosity was the fact that it most definitely did not belong to her. So…whose was it?

  Bending down, she gave the shirt a tentative sniff test. The main notes of amber and blossoms were by far the strongest scents on the fabric. As she straightened, a braid tumbled over her shoulder—then she noticed its twin resting behind her other shoulder. The intricate plaits were undeniably skilled work—too skilled for her own hands.

  Wary, Soraya looked around her room once more.

  Nothing was out of place. Her nature posters were still pinned to the walls; her closet gaped open, clothes cascading onto the floor. Her desk was still cluttered with her books and pens.

  But something was off.

  She stood still and listened.

  The apartment was quiet…too quiet. Not a single sound penetrated the stillness—no hum of passing cars, no birdsong from the tree outside her window. Just silence.

  Her eyes darted to the spot beside her door. There sat her backpack—the one she’d packed the night before.

  Stepping closer to it, she leaned down and picked it up to examine it more closely.

  She fingered a tear along the front. The frayed edges gaped open, revealing clothes stuffed inside. There was only one thing that could have made that tear.

  The bag thudded to the floor as she turned her attention to the door.

  With a shaking hand, she reached for the doorknob. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew she wasn’t alone in the apartment.

  Whether she was ready to face what waited for her on the other side of the door was irrelevant. With her memories swirling inside her mind, she was prepared to face anything at this point.

  Jesmine needed her. And that was all that mattered.