Thin Air (Weather Warden #6) by Rachel Caine

ONE There were worse things than being naked, freezing, and alone in a forest. For instance, there was being naked, freezing, not alone, and not sure of who the hell you were. And having people depending on you. That was worse. Lewis-the man who'd found me, the tall, ragged-looking specimen with the cheekbones-had put my silence down to shock, which was probably not far from the truth. When I just clung to him, shivering in the frigid wind, he finally stripped off his down jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I watched him, shivering and numb, clutching the down coat hard around me. It smelled of dirt and feathers and sweat. "Say something," he commanded. I didn't. I couldn't. All I could do was shake. What was that in his eyes? Anguish? Fury? Love? Hate? I had no frame of reference for him, or for what he was feeling. "Jo, how'd you get here? Where have you been?" Jo. I waited for some kind of internal recognition, some circuit to activate. I waited for some confirmation that Jo was my name. Nothing. When I kept silent, he finally shook his head and glanced around, then gathered up the backpack he'd dropped
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