CHAPTER ONE: A BODY THAT WASN'T MINE

Gwen POV

"One night, and you give me the money."

I couldn't believe I was actually saying this. Why would I ever want to do this to my body?

Well, technically, it wasn't even my body.

Funny story. I died. Or I slept. Or whatever it was, I honestly didn't know. I had gone to bed as a slim, curly-haired brunette with cheeks that turned red whenever I was nervous, a flush that always gave me away. And I had woken up as a black-haired, sexy, slightly tall, curvy woman with thick thighs and a figure I didn't know how to carry.

I was now Gwen Gobbers.

A romance character from one of my favourite books. The moment I woke up in her body and looked into the mirror, I recognised her immediately, the way you recognise a face you have loved on a page a hundred times. Only this time, the face looked back at me, and it was breathing.

"You're really appealing," the lustful man said, stopping short to take in my sculpted figure. His eyes crawled over me slowly. "You look too decent, too sexy and sophisticated, to be looking for a one-night stand for quick money."

I stepped back. He was right. Gwen Gobbers was one of the prettiest and wealthiest women in Florence City. Women like her didn't sell nights. But I needed the money to get out, and I had no other way to get it.

So I toughened up.

"It's none of your business. We do it, and you pay me."

"How much do you want, sweetheart?"

"I'm not your sweetheart." I forced a grin at him, clutching my bag so tightly my fingers ached. "I'll take anything above two thousand dollars."

He smiled slowly. "That's all?"

Deep inside, my conscience started banging again, louder this time. *This isn't right, Becky. A one-night stand with a man you don't even know?*

*But Gwen isn't real. She's a book character.*

*A book character whose body you're in right now. Which means she's real enough, and you should respect her body.*

*She's not real.*

*She is.*

*She's not.*

*She is.*

"Enough!" I screamed out loud, and only then did I realise I had been arguing with my own mind.

The man stood there staring at me like I had lost it. Honestly, I felt like I had.

"You're a crazy lady," he laughed. I didn't laugh back.

"Two thousand dollars," I said, my voice shakier than I wanted. "Deal?"

A glint of mischief lit up his eyes. Before I could blink, he slammed the door shut and pinned me against the wooden wall. My breath left my chest in a rush. His eyes were thick with lust, and his hands were already on me, cupping my breast like he had every right to it.

"Or," he said against my ear, "you satisfy me, and I'll pay you every day for a month. Let's say, hmm, a hundred dollars a day."

I struggled against him, grunting, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. A month? I couldn't stay in this book for a month. I couldn't stay in it for another hour.

"No," I managed to push out. "I can't be your sex slave for a month for that little. It's a one-time payment."

His eyes flickered with that same mischief, and in that moment I knew I was doomed.

"Then I guess you're not leaving here."

He shoved me onto his bed and started unbuttoning his shirt. Panic climbed up my spine like cold water. I needed to get out, and I needed to think of another way to escape this place.

"Don't. I'm warning you."

I kept moving backwards, but he didn't stop. He only smiled wider, like my fear amused him.

When he leaned down over me, I did the only thing I knew. I kneed him hard between the legs.

It was the one tactic I knew for escaping abusive men, and I knew it only because I had seen it in so many movies. I never thought I would need it. I never thought it would actually work.

But it did. He folded over with a groan, and I scrambled off the bed, grabbed my bag, and ran.

I didn't stop until I was outside, leaning against a wall, panting like I had run a marathon. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

That was so close.

*I told you this was a bad idea,* my conscience said.

"Oh my God, shut up," I whispered. "Is Gwen's conscience always this annoying?"

I sank down onto a step at the side of the street, my mind broken and my chest heavy. Some men walked past and called out, *hey, pretty,* but I was too lost to even notice them.

How did this happen?

How did I end up inside a book I had read several times and loved so much? A book I used to read myself to sleep with, night after night, when the house was too quiet.

Did I die?

The thought made my throat tighten. Because I had a brother to get back to. A little brother who had no one else. Mom and Dad were gone, and he only had me. I was his only hope. I couldn't leave him out there alone, waiting for a sister who would never come home.

That was the only thing I needed, to get back home.

And to do that, I needed at least three thousand dollars. In the book, the wizard Frey was the wisest person in the land. If I could get the money and find him, he would definitely know how to send me back.

I couldn't sit here and cry. I had already done too much of that.

So I stood up.

My mind raced as I tried to remember everything I could from the story, everything I needed to avoid if I wanted to survive it. And there were two things that mattered above all else.

First, an apocalypse was coming. A drought would swallow the land.

Second, when that happened, Gwen's lover, Alexander Wolf, would sacrifice her to save himself. He would kill her to survive.

It was the betrayal of the century. I had cried so many times when Alexander betrayed Gwen, but I always told myself it was just a story. It was only ink and paper. It couldn't hurt me.

And now I was standing inside that story.

So it was clear. If I wanted to stay alive, I had to stay far away from Alexander Wolf, and I had to get out of here before the apocalypse, if I ever wanted to see my brother again.

I straightened my back and walked toward the bar.

In the book, Gwen's corny best friend, Staci, worked at a bar in town. As a reader, I could never stand her. She was loud and overly cheerful, and she always showed up at the wrong time. But for some reason she was Gwen's best friend, so I had to go with it.

Maybe she could help me. She was smart, in her own strange way.

I walked through the streets of Florence City and pushed into the bar, which smelled of sweaty men and gasoline. The noise rolled over me, laughter and clinking glasses and a song I didn't recognise. I made my way to the front, where she stood serving beer.

Tall, bright, and the typical hustler.

"Staci. Staci," I called.

She turned. "Gwen, girl. You look happy."

I sat down at the counter and rolled my eyes. "I'm anything but happy. I..."

I was tempted to tell her everything. I wasn't the real Gwen. I wanted to get back into my real body, into my real life. The words rose all the way to the tip of my tongue.

But I couldn't trust anyone. Not yet.

"Hey, Gwen." She snapped her fingers in front of my face, and I jerked back to the present. "I'm on a tight shift. What do you need?"

"Money." I rubbed my forehead. "I just came from a one-night stand that went horribly wrong."

She glanced at me with a corny smile, still mixing someone's drink. "A one-night stand. Ooooh, girl. You must be desperate."

"I am. You need to help me."

"I'm your bestie. Is there something you're not telling me?"

I sighed. "I promise, look. If you can tell me how I can get the money, and I get it, I'll tell you everything."

She studied me for a moment as she poured the beer. Then she shrugged.

"Fine."

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "I might have a better one-night stand. With a hotter guy. That pays three times better."

I couldn't hide my smirk. Three times better meant six thousand dollars. Double what I needed.

"You had me at three times better."

She didn't go into much detail. She only slid a card and an address across the counter to me, and before I left, she caught my wrist.

"Gwen." For once, her voice had no joke in it. "With this man, there's no going back."

I rolled my eyes. I thought she was being dramatic. "Whatever."

I took the card and ran.

The address led me to a dark, cold building. I wasn't told who the man was. I was only told to go to the room, and that he would meet me there.

I stepped into a polished hotel room that smelled expensive. Everything in it gleamed. My eyes swept across the beautiful chandelier, and I sat down on the fluffy bed, sinking into it.

For a while I just covered my face with my hands and cried. I couldn't believe I was doing this again. Everything inside me said no. But I couldn't stay out there. I had nowhere else to go.

After a few minutes, I wiped my cheeks and walked into the bathroom to pour water on my face. It always calmed me down, ever since I was a little girl.

The moment the cold water touched my skin, I heard the door open outside.

I froze.

He was here.

I spun around to the mirror and fixed my hair with trembling fingers. *You can do this,* I told myself. *Just one night. Just one night, and you can go home.*

I stayed there a little longer, trying to catch my breath before stepping out. Then I crept toward the door and peeked through the gap before I stepped out.

And when I did, I recognised the figure.

At least, Gwen did.

Tall. Dark hair. A presence that filled the whole room without saying a word.

That wasn't just anyone.

That was Alexander Wolf.

Gwen's ex-lover. The man who ended her life.

He was the one-night stand?