He did tighten his grip on the machete. The odds were fifty-fifty the woman had a weapon, and even higher that she'd actually use it.

Are you listening to me? I said, watch our for the quicksand!

The husky, heavily accented female voice slammed into his mind once again, so richly sensual and commanding he acquired an instant, unwanted, and surprising hard-on—before he promptly began sinking into a large pool of quicksand.

"What the hell?" Instinctively he attempted to raise his legs, which only caused him to sink farther and faster. He stilled and glared at the ground, watching it slowly rise, covering his feet... his ankles.

Now you've done it. Exasperation clung to the edges of her words. She might even have added, Dumb ass, but he wasn't sure. I tried to warn you.

"Where are you?" he asked, using his gentlest, most reassuring tone as he eyed the lush green bushes circling him. The leaves here were thicker than any he'd ever encountered, barely moving in the gentle wind.

He didn't want to frighten the woman away. She'd tried to save him from the quicksand, so she obviously meant him no harm. God knew he needed all the help he could get right now.

There was no hint of person or clothing peeking from the shrubbery, still no rustle or snap to indicate movement.

"You can come out," he said. "I won't hurt you. You have my word."

Think for a moment, Gray. You don't hear me with your ears, but with your mind.

"How do you know my name?" he asked sharply. Then he blinked, shook his head, blinked again. The voice remained, echoing from each corridor of his brain. She was right. Her words were actually inside his mind.

How was that possible?

How the hell was that possible?

"I'm schizo." The statement burst from his mouth, too shocking and surreal to keep inside. "I've finally jumped over the ledge of sanity with thousand-pound weights tied to my ankles." He'd seen some weird shit in his lifetime, and it had finally caught up with him.