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“I heard you in the music room with Lucien,” he murmurs, and my cheeks flood with heat. Catching the look, his lips turn down. “My mother liked to hear my father play—she designed the intercom system so his music could play through each room of the house. Lucien must have accidentally forgot to turn it off.” He heard that? “You sounded . . . happy.” Jasper’s voice is feather soft.
Survival tip #3 Fight for yourself. No-one else will.
“We just realized we aren’t a good fit, that’s all,” I insist. I’m stretching the truth of “we” a bit far, but I think Jasper will forgive me for it. He was very gracious, even while telling me I’m not enough for him.
“I’m sorry if he hurt you,” Lucky whispers to me. “I know how he can be.” There’s something in that. Something that niggles at me, but my thoughts are starting to slip away under their hands. Their lips.
Dom’s clipped voice cuts through the snuggly, slick fog. “Is dinner ready?” No. I don’t want dinner. I want kisses for dinner. Lucky presses one more brief peck to my lips, then pulls back. I attempt to frown at him, but he just winks, twinkly eyed and flushed, and leaves for the kitchen. Beau makes a frustrated sound against my neck—and I swear he mutters, “Like clockwork.”
I clear my throat. “Yes, sir. Lucky’s just finishing with the potatoes.” My pulse quickens at the electric flash in Dom’s eyes. Oh. I called him “sir” again. It’s slipping out as naturally as breathing now. And he likes it.
Why is it that when women embrace their sexuality they’re demonized as sluts, but when they don’t, they’re condemned as prudes and called frigid? There’s no winning.”
“I’m not demonizing anyone. I don’t like hypocrites. If you enjoy something, say so. You feel something, feel it. People who put a stranglehold on their lives because they’re too afraid to actually do what they want are pathetic. And frustrating to be around.” “Now ain’t that the funniest thing, partner—I agree with you completely,” Beau says in a sugar-sweet tone, and Dom gives him a sharp glare.
Jaykob snorts. The sound startles me. The last two times we were all together, he hardly engaged with the others at all. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jayk rakes his eyes over Dom, the sneer in his voice clear. “Not everyone is lucky enough to just ‘do what they want.’ Only people with connected daddies get that luxury. Some of us actually have to make some tough choices and hold our tongues when rich assholes tell us to jump.” I close my mouth and duck my head to hide a smile. I forgot, for a moment, that the chip on his shoulder is at least as big as mine. Dom’s whole body
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servant’s quarters anyway.” He stops in front of me, looking down with a smirk. But even that seems off, discomfited. “You feel like crawling through the dirt again tonight, princess, I’ll fuck your ass so hard your crown comes right off.” “Jaykob,” Jasper snaps. Beau’s hand tightens around mine under the table. I ignore them both, searching Jaykob’s rough face for the man who stood against the world for me yesterday. “Oh, Jayk,” I breathe.
“Stop, Ranger. That’s an order.” But Dom’s not looking at Jayk, he’s looking down at a small, buzzing device. Beau curses. “Where?”
“I am Eden. A person, not a doll, not your pet. And I am. Pissed. Off.” My pulse races, thundering at my throat like a chariot charge. Beau’s lips quirk at that, just a fraction, and I see red. I lift a bowl, ready to throw it across the room. I don’t want to hit him, I’m sure of that. Pretty sure, anyway. But I’m just so mad. His eyes widen, and he makes a grab for my wrists, putting gentle pressure on the one holding the bowl until I drop it with a hiss. “Hey there now, easy. I’m not laughing at you, pe— Eden, I promise.”
And yet “pet” is your subconscious go to
In the large, center screen, four men, armed to their pits, creep through the forest. The camera tracks their movement steadily until they move out of range. They have the same rangy, tanned look of the men we tangled with the other day. That in itself wouldn’t be enough, but . . . “Play it again.” Jasper taps a few buttons, and the men creep forward again. “There.” The figures pause. “Right hand. Tattoo. The others had the same mark, like a coiled snake.”
now. I don’t know how they could make it around the woods near us without being caught by our sensors. Not unless they knew where they were.”
Of the four static cameras, only one screen shows an image. The cameras need a decent amount of maintenance—about half our trips are just to keep them functioning and free of wildlife—so it’s not that unusual for one to go down every now and then. But not three.
Jaykob grunts a curse and tension bunches Jasper’s shoulders. “They were up this morning. I only paused long enough for one game of chess. One. But I was still catching up on footage from the night before.”
It takes some fiddling, but we manage to pinpoint when the cameras cut out. First the northernmost, then the other two, each one progressively closer to Bristlebrook. There are no shots of any of the men, the cameras simply cut out, but in the footage from the second camera, just before it shuts off, there are four tall shadows cast against the small patch of grass. These men are coming from the north. Not the south. Four men, connected with the group that had chased Eden. Connected with the men Beau and I buried two days later. But how do they know about our cameras?
How did they know where the cameras were? They’re concealed. Not easy to stumble on. And how are they heading in a direct line for Bristlebrook?
“But who even knew about the cameras except us?” Beau questions. “Our old group knew we were installing them before they left, but they didn’t see where we put them. Only we knew their locations.”
“Heather and Thomas knew,” Jasper says, silk over steel. Her name is like an iron fire poker—one glowing amber, fresh from the coals. It sears through my gut. If I could, I’d wipe her name from their mouths, their minds. Fuck them for thinking of her. Fucking them for thinking that of her. Heather was a lot of things, but she wouldn’t have sold me out. My lip curls. “She. Wouldn’t. Do. This.”
But I can’t stop the words from swinging out of my mouth. “We don’t need to consider shit. None of you liked her, fine, but that doesn’t make her the enemy. She was a cop, for fuck’s sake. She saved my life. She’s not going to turn her back on all that because you bullied her on the goddamned playground.” “You and I have very different memories of how that went down,” Jasper snipes.
But my eyes are trained on my friend. Steady, dependable Beau. He’d really choose a night with some girl over watching my back? Didn’t he learn from my mistakes? Doesn’t he know the girl will only break his heart? Sometimes I’m not sure what was worse—losing Heather, or losing Beau’s trust.
“Did you leave the bookcase open?” I demand of Beau. His chin drops, face hardening. “Of course not.” She worked it out. The hidden latch that would open the hidden door in the bookcase. She crept down the short corridor, lightly enough that we couldn’t hear her, and is now standing outside the door, studying the keypad panel with a small frown. We watch as she appears to give up on that and presses her ear to the door. Jaykob, of all people, snorts in amusement. Anger spikes, but I hold it in check. Let it burrow deep into my bones, leak into my marrow. She’s trying to spy on us? We’ve given
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Bro fuck offffff she’s repeatedly asked to be included in what’s going on
Swallowing, she lowers herself gracefully, like she’s done it a thousand times. Like the movement is a memory, preserved in her flesh. As she does, Jasper releases a long sigh, the way people do when sipping spectacular wine or watching a breath-catching sunrise.
“What were you hoping to achieve by breaking into our private rooms and sneaking outside our door?” “Answers.” Then she lifts her chin and adds, “Obviously.”
I mean duh. She even told you veggie she did it she wanted answers
If Beau and I head off tomorrow, we’ll miss my night with her as well, I realize. Not that it matters. I have no intention of touching her—it’d only encourage Beau’s fantasy, and I’d rather spend the time fixing our shit than setting us both up for failure again.
“Look, we have bigger priorities than licking your pussy. But if you stay on your knees and beg, one of the others might oblige—makes no difference who does it, right?” As soon as the crude, stupid words leave my mouth, I want to reel them back in.
Wow. Ok ass hole
She did not like that. Not one bit. The tiniest twist of curiosity tugs at me. I wonder if I can make the little librarian snap at me properly. I wonder if she ever feels rage like mine under all that politeness. I rake my eyes over her, then shrug one shoulder dismissively. “Though it’s only Beau you’ll really be missing—I wouldn’t have touched you either way.” “Oh, fuck you,” she hisses. There it is.
I turn my attention on Lucky, whose shoulders cave. He clears his throat, looking so carefully anywhere but at Jasper that it’s painfully clear who he’s trying to avoid. “We kept it light,” he says evasively. Jasper is staring at him with unnerving intensity, then shakes his head and adds, “Eden and I didn’t engage in a scene.”
Her full lips flatten. “A word that I say to stop everything just so I can be asked to leave? Isn’t the point that I just shut up and do whatever you want?” My amusement dies a hard, abrupt death. Something sick and queasy churns my stomach.
Yall have over and over again implied that is the case. Why would she think it WASNT
“No, Eden,” I say finally, uneasily. “There is never, ever a consequence for using a safeword. Anything between you and anyone here . . . it’s an agreement. Between equal, consenting parties.” I shouldn’t have to explain this. How can she have this so completely wrong? How did I get this so damn wrong? It goes beyond like or dislike. She has the right to feel safe here, for as long as she wants to stay.
Because yo have done NOTHING to make that seem to be the case
“It’s not feeling safe here, or with any of you, that’s the problem,” she continues, looking at each of us. “I don’t like being lied to. Or coddled. I can help. I want to help. I can’t bear to be bundled up and put on a shelf like a dress-up doll when you’re done playing with me. I think . . . I think I would rather live alone than live like that.”
it’s been a long-ass time since I’ve felt put in my place. Still. This shit with the hunters is dangerous. Life and death. I might not love having her underfoot with Beau making cow eyes at her, but I don’t want her to run back off into the wilderness and find herself prey to those assholes either. The thought of her, bright and tiny and defiant, in their hands makes me want to kill something.
The others have stayed silent, waiting for me to take the lead on this. I don’t need to see the grip Beau has on the girl to know that if I fuck this up and upset her more, the two of us will have a serious problem.
Eden stands up from Beau’s lap, right in front of my hand. Would the damn woman just shake it? I don’t usually make concessions. Does she have to keep pushing her luck?
I shouldn’t be out here at all, really. I know I shouldn’t. But despite all the quite reasonable conversations I’ve had with myself this morning, I still find myself tracking Dom and Beau through the woods while they make their way to the broken cameras. Dom’s main argument against me coming today was that I couldn’t keep up. All I’m doing is proving them wrong. Right? It’s too late to turn back now, anyway. It’s been hours, after all. I may not be a gun-toting hard-ass with buns of steel, but I am a useful person. I’ll track them to the cameras, surprise them with my apparently shocking
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Bro are you fucking serious??? I am about to dnf this book just for this scene. He literally just gave you everything you asked for and the only thing he asked was that you do as you are told and stay safe. You are doing the exact opposite and I hope he finds out. You are so dumb and I hope karma gets your ass
I shouldn’t be out here at all, really. I know I shouldn’t. But despite all the quite reasonable conversations I’ve had with myself this morning, I still find myself tracking Dom and Beau through the woods while they make their way to the broken cameras. Dom’s main argument against me coming today was that I couldn’t keep up. All I’m doing is proving them wrong. Right? It’s too late to turn back now, anyway. It’s been hours, after all. I may not be a gun-toting hard-ass with buns of steel, but I am a useful person. I’ll track them to the cameras, surprise them with my apparently shocking
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For real what is the goal here?? To prove yourself? Cause all you are proving is that he was right and you can’t fucking listen to simple instructions
Maybe I shouldn’t be testing them so much. It’s only been two weeks, after all, and Dom did make some major concessions last night. I probably should have waited, followed the agreed pace.
Yes. Dumb bitch
He assesses me, taking in my small pack, my boots, my jacket, my small trusty knife. “The hunters that were chasing you are part of a larger group that seems to be heading to Bristlebrook. Our northern cameras went down, that wasn’t a lie, but we think they were taken out. We’re heading up to intercept them. We haven’t spotted any other hunters in proximity—the rest seem to be camped elsewhere, and we have them under surveillance—but it’s possible there are others we haven’t seen. Your little knife won’t do much against them.”
“And how will they know you’ve decided to do that? You planning on handing yourself over?” Dom asks dryly. I blink at him. Why is he not more upset? Isn’t he meant to overreact to everything?
Survival tip #138 If they think the worst of you, be worse than that.
The guys are on my ass about it too—every one of them grilled me about it this week. Funny how they all managed to ask about the washing machine and didn’t give me one single word of apology. Except for Jasper, but since he spent the whole time lecturing me about “not retaliating” and finding “appropriate ways to manage my anger,” I’m not counting it.
One day I’m beating up on big-eyed librarians, and the next I’m their fix-it guy again? They’re lucky I didn’t torch the stupid Playboy mansion from under them. It’s not like any of them offered to help, either. She did, though.
“Stupid son of a—” “Hey, I’m sure the machine’s mama was a nice lady.” My head drops back. I clench my teeth together and count to ten in my head. Don’t bash his head in. It ain’t worth the wrench. “You know, likes a tumble, always wet.” I up my counting to twenty. Shouldn’t have left my pistol in my room. “Plus, she could probably take a real big lo—”
“You think I don’t know I’m just some guy in the same regiment that just happened to be around when it all went to shit?” I scoff. “I don’t care. You’re all slumber buddies who like to braid each other’s hair or whatever, that’s fine. Whatever gets you hard. But leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.”
I’m towering over Lucky. Wide eyed, he stares at me. “For the record, I braid my own hair. Beau’s the only one with any skill at all, and he pretty much always refuses to help me.” My fists lift of their own accord and it’s fifty-fifty whether I’m going to strangle him or chuck him out on his ass. Lucky grins, lifting his own hands defensively. “No, Jayk! Dom already took my lunch money this week!”
They have her. She’s safe.” “Yeah. Right. Like they won’t choose each other over her if it comes to it.” Worry scrapes at my insides. Anything could happen to her out there. Shit happens all the time—my brother is proof of that. Maybe she should be our prisoner. As soon as we get her back, I’m putting a collar on her and tying her to the damn wall. Princesses shouldn’t be let out of their towers . . . that’s what monsters like us are for.
Lucky shoves me then in a rare burst of temper. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Jayk. Don’t say shit you don’t mean.” I round on him, but Jasper stands and yanks Lucky behind him, giving me a warning look. My stomach clenches bitterly. Yeah, like I would take the stupid kid’s head off for a shove.
Rolling up my compact sleeping bag, I sigh. Dom’s eyes settle on me again. He’s been watching me almost as often as the trees, expression unreadable, and it’s starting to make me nervous.
“Why aren’t you more mad at me anyway?” I ask, flustered. “I’m furious with you.” Even without looking at him, his irritation is palpable. “There’s just not much we can do about it now. I’ll hand you over to Jasper for punishment when we get back. Then we can call it even.”
