She’d been hungry for so long.

A flash of something in the corner of her mind, too fast for her to grasp. And then she was staring into those strangely compelling eyes. But he wasn’t just eyes. He was clean, almost harsh lines and golden brown skin. Exotic eyes. Exotic skin.

His mouth moved.

Her eyes lingered on his lips. The lower one was a little fuller than seemed right on that uncompromisingly masculine face. But not soft. Never soft. This man, he was all hardness and command.

Another touch, fingers on her cheek. She blinked, focused on his lips again. Tried to hear.

“. . . name?”

She pushed away the juice and swallowed, dropping her hands to the sheets. He wanted to know her name. It was a reasonable question. She wanted to know his name, too. People always exchanged names when they met. It was normal.

Her fingers clenched on the soft cotton sheets.

Beat-beat.

Beat-beat.

Beat-beat.

That fluttering bird was back, trapped in her chest. How cruel.

Not normal.

“What’s your name?” His eyes were piercing in their directness, refusing to let her look away.

And she had to answer. “I don’t know.”

Dev looked into that cloudy hazel gaze and saw only a confused kind of fear. “Glen?”

Dr. Glen Herriford frowned from the other side of the bed. “Could be a side effect of the drugs. She was pretty doped up when she came in. Give it a few more hours.”

Nodding, Dev put the juice on the table and returned his attention to the woman. Her lashes were already dropping. Not saying anything, he helped her down into a position flat on her back. She was asleep moments later.