Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(14)
I frown, letting the new puzzle take the place of my discomfort. “What about heat signatures?”
He shakes his head once. “We’re too deep into the rock. Even if we weren’t, we’ve seen no evidence of drones since the first year after the initial attack. Whoever was sending them is either now unable to or has given up their efforts.”
“You don’t know who sent them?” I ask. “I thought, perhaps, since you were Army . . .”
“The men were on leave when it happened; I had recently retired. They were summoned back to base when the first strikes hit, but by the time we arrived, it was too late. Our base was gone, as well as a dozen others.” He lifts one shoulder, his soft lips forming a hard, grim line. “Our team eventually tracked down one of their satellite phones, but by the time we were able to contact our international embassies, no one answered. As there has been no land invasion here that we know of, nor any aid delivered from our allies, we can only speculate regarding the state of other nations. Mass devastation, surely. Whether they were entrenched in the Final War, or wiped out as surely as we were, the silence speaks for itself. I don’t expect they’re any better off than we are.”
My stomach drops at the confirmation. It was everything I assumed, everything I feared. It doesn’t change anything, not really, but it still hurts to hear how irrevocably our world has been torn apart. I suck in a deep breath.
He pauses. Taking my arm in a gentle grip, he draws me to a halt. “I apologize, Eden. That is not news I should have delivered so casually.”
I can’t help but sink into him. Just a little. He lets me, but the decadent silk on silk press of my body against his isn’t as relaxing as I thought it would be. He’s too warm. Too firm. He smells too much like the books that kept my imagination vivid and awake through these last four lonely years.
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” I say, my voice on the wrong side of breathy. “It’s, well, it’s surprisingly hard to hear, but it’s not like I expected help to arrive after all this time. I’m not quite that naive.” I shake my head. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
“Hm.” He cups my chin in those long, elegant fingers, but I can’t be snared in those eyes again. I try to turn my face but end up rubbing my cheek into his palm instead.
He releases a long breath, then murmurs, “Did help not arrive, though?”
He brushes his thumb over the seam of my mouth. My eyes flutter closed as a shiver traces its way over my scalp and down my spine, and I need to force them back open. I blush at how intensely he regards me. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with such single-minded focus. Like the whole world has just faded away and we stand together, alone in some kind of hazy, dreamy abyss.
“I—” I clear my throat as his thumb dips briefly into the warm, slick heat of my mouth before he withdraws. I only just stop myself from panting. “I suppose it did.”
Those pretty lips take a sweet, lunate curve, and then he draws me back into motion down the hall. I’m reminded that there is, in fact, a world around us. And there are four other men awaiting me. Four men who are expecting to form a ridiculous sex pact that is slowly sounding less and less ridiculous with every moment I spend in Jasper’s company.
He leads me around a corner, deeper into the lodge. Rosy lights brighten the spacious hall. Jasper matches my slow steps patiently, in silence, until the air between us swells, growing heavy and electric.
I have to fight to stop my hands from fidgeting, my body tingling and pulsing with . . . nerves? Surely it’s nerves.
“You have a lovely home,” I blurt.
The curve to his lips deepens, but he says nothing.
I’m not usually a person who needs to fill silence, but my pulse is jittery. Carbonated. It’s making things bubble out of me.
“So have you lived here long?” Just stop talking, Eden. Please, for the love of God.
Jasper quirks a brow and lets me stew in my embarrassment for a moment, damn him.
“Yes, I have,” he finally says, then adds, “This was my family home, and later my personal retreat, before the world disappeared. My mother was from Gangnam-gu, in Seoul. She fell in love with an American businessman, my father, though she insisted that she fell in love with the scenery first. They built Bristlebrook, and it was their sanctuary for many years before they retired in Seoul.”
We pause in front of a heavy door. “They left this home to me, and I was in the process of moving here after my retirement when everything fell apart. I suggested the Rangers join me when it became clear we could do no good where we were.”
I press my lips together. There’s a bitter undercurrent in his tone. I want to touch him, to offer him some small comfort, but I’m scared that if I do, I’ll end up floating away again.
I need to stay grounded right now.
“You’re too young to be retired,” I say instead of pressing.
“It was foolish of me, but there was something I thought I could outrun. In the end, it only ended up chasing me here.” The smile on his lips turns cold, self-deprecating, but he grimaces. “Enough of that.”
The crease deepens between my brows, and I open my mouth, confused, but he cuts me off and pushes open the door.
“Welcome to Bristlebrook, Eden.”
The low murmuring in the room tapers off as the door swings open and it takes a moment for me to gather my courage and step inside. Dark floorboards span the room, covered in the center by a plush rug. The natural gray rock of the cliff forms the walls and ceiling of the large, cave-like room, reminding me of my last home.