Lost in His Woods: Book Five

By Penelope L'Amoreaux

How far would you go to get your memory back?

This is the final installment in this series. Read the action-packed finale to Clare and Tolik's story!

Waking up in Siberia, only inches from death, Clare remembered nothing of her past. Nothing, that is, except the handsome, guarded stranger who saved her. He welcomed her into his home. When their relationship changed into something much steamier and more addictive, Clare found her heart thawing for the grizzled Tolik. That is, until he left her, too afraid of what was blooming between them.

Now Clare must dig deep to find the strength to win Tolik back. When her past returns to haunt her, it will take all of her cunning and a dash of luck to find her way back to the man she loves--or risk being lost forever.

This is part five in a series of five. It is for mature audiences, 18+, who enjoy a little mystery in their men, a lot of curiosity in their heroines, and a dash of pain and kink mixed with their pleasure!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penelope L'Amoreaux
• Release date: Apr 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310993909

Penelope L'Amoreaux

Penelope L'Amoreaux helps build rocket ships during the day and dreams of naughty adventures at night. When not turning those adventures into stories, she enjoys a tall glass of wine, reading, and the perfectly cooked steak.

Book preview

Lost in His Woods: Book 5

Penelope L’Amoreaux

Penelope L’Amoreaux

Published by Penelope L’Amoreaux

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Penelope L’Amoreaux

Cover art by Angie Zambrano of pro_ebookcovers

Chapter One

The steady hum of chatter surrounded me. It bounced off the brick walls of the hallway I walked down. When I looked around I could see that I was in a university, doorways to classrooms passing by as I continued down the hall. A figure appeared next to me. It was the Golden Boy, the one from the library. He grinned at me and linked our hands, his fingers laced between mine. We strolled together and I felt butterflies in my stomach at the contact.

The Golden boy pulled me into a janitor’s closet. There were boxes and containers of cleaning solution but I didn’t have time to take it all in. Golden boy pushed me back against the closed door, pinning me with his body.

"Anya, no more teasing. I want you." His voice was hot in my ear and my tummy fluttered. I felt flattered but unsure of my own feelings.

"I’m not trying to tease you. You’ve been great. Helping me since I arrived and I appreciate that."

"But?" There was a glint in his eyes, something that made me worry. This was my only friendship, my only connection, and I didn’t want to ruin it.

"But this feels like we’re moving too fast."

Laughter, bitter and angry, filled the closet, booming in my ears. My heart beat quicker at the change in his demeanor and the fact that he hadn’t moved away.

"Too fast? We’ve been friends for months. I’ve helped you with your language skills. You’re almost fluent now! I’ve shown you the city, taken you to the nicest restaurants, everything. How can you say I’m moving too fast?"

My hands went to his chest, bracing there, prepared to push him away, but I hesitated. I know. I know! I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way. I wish I did.

"How can you know that? You’ve never even kissed me."

With that he leaned in, forcing himself closer despite my hands. In the end, I stopped resisting, letting him close the distance. His lips pressed onto mine, hard and insistent. I wasn’t sure I wanted the kiss, but I felt too guilty to stop it. His body came close, pressed hard into mine. The boy’s hands grabbed my waist, gripping hard enough to hurt a little. I cried out, his kisses swallowing it. He must have taken my cry of pain as encouragement, because a hand shoved roughly up my shirt and palmed my breast, squeezing and twisting it.

The pain made me gasp and shove him away, my hands crossing over my abused chest, protecting the flesh that ached there.

His face twisted, rage and rejection making his handsome features ugly. I don’t understand you. His eyes darted to my crossed arms and, after a deep inhale; he forced his face and body to relax.

"Fine. We’ll take it even slower. But you know this is going to happen, Anya. You will be mine."

"I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to hurt your feelings." Guilt over rejecting him wracked me. This was my only friend and I had hurt him.

"No, it’s fine. I just need some space." The change in him had been so fast. One second he had frightened me, hostility fuming around him. Now, though, he appeared to be the boy who had just wanted to hold hands. My feelings were torn, confused, as he pushed past me and out the door.

For a moment I was alone in the closet and that terrified me. Even if I wasn’t ready, I wanted to please the boy, to keep him near. Yanking open the door I was ready to chase him…

It was winter outside of the janitor’s closet, a lonely woods covered in heavy drifts of snow. I saw a familiar outline walking away from me.

Tolik.

My heart screamed in my chest, almost yanking itself out in a raging desire to chase after him.

"Tolik, wait for me!" I cried out, the wind almost stealing the sound from my throat. He must have heard, though, because he glanced back at me. His face was pained, hollow.

I tore out of the closet. I tried to run to him, but he was so far away. He turned and kept walking.

I was left alone in the snow.

* * * * *

Months before, a dream like that would have jerked me awake, trembling in a bed of sweat-soaked sheets. Now, though... well, I was used to it. Ever since Tolik left me, my dreams had been troubling, more hints of a past I still couldn’t remember. An itch that I could never fully scratch. At least now I didn’t panic every time I almost remembered something new, or a dream turned quickly into a nightmare. Instead I stretched in bed, the rough-spun sheets coarse against my skin, trying to remember any important detail from the dream.

None came to mind. It was one I had had before. Still, I reached for the small notebook on my bedside table, lying next to a small vase with fake sunflowers, my only decoration. I opened it to a new page, pulling out the pencil from the spiral binder to jot down the dream. It was the same