Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(2)

Chapter 2


Dominic


SURVIVAL TIP #220

Don’t risk your men.

No matter how pretty she is.

I watch the play of emotions on the woman’s face at Lucky’s teasing. Her large gray-blue eyes, made even larger by her black-rimmed glasses, widen. The flush drains from her pale, muddy cheeks. Those big eyes dart between the three of us and, before I can move, she spins to bolt away.

At least, she tries.

As she turns, her bandaged foot collapses beneath her and she lets out a muffled cry. Beau jumps into action, lowering himself as he strides forward as though that might make his size less intimidating.

Lucky moves to help, but I shake my head and nod at the river. When he hesitates, I bite back a curse. I know it’s bad if Lucky is testing my authority. But damn it, we’re here for a reason—we need to replenish our water supply and keep moving or we’ll never make it back before dark. The years since the Final War have been harsh and there are too few of us left; I’m not risking my men by spending another night in the open. Whatever this woman is about, we don’t have time for it.

Lucky pouts but, with a regretful glance at the girl, he does as he’s told.

I walk over to the woman. She scrambles until she’s sitting with her back against the tree, watching the now-crouching Beau as though he eats babies for breakfast.

“ . . . not gonna hurt you. Just want to take a look at that arm of yours, ’kay, darlin’? That’s a nasty scrape you’ve got there.”

I just barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. Bastard’s laying on the apple-pie accent thick. He always does it when he has a crush; it might have been a while, but I’d recognize the tone anywhere. God damn it. I just have to be out with the two bleeding hearts of our fucked-up little group. Why isn’t Jasper with me instead? Hell, even Jaykob? He would scare her off for the fun of it.

Beau edges forward. The woman flattens herself against the tree.

He stops and lifts his hands like she’s a frightened mare. “That foot needs some attention too, huh? My name’s Beau, sweetheart. I’m a doctor. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Dark suspicion fills her haughty features. Her chin lifts and her thin cheeks make her cheekbones seem higher than is natural. I’d bet she hasn’t had a decent meal in a while. Not many people have, lately. Though women aren’t often found these days either, and certainly not alone, and yet here she is.

Trouble in a shapeless sack of an outfit.

As I move closer, her attention fastens on me, evaluating the new threat. Those gray-blue eyes hit me like a punch to the gut.

Piercing, intelligent—in seconds that gaze has me stripped bare and measured from the toes up. Her eyes would be almost too light for her face, if not for the striking darker blue ring around her irises and the thick, sooty lashes that frame them. They’re so long they brush her glasses as she blinks.

I set my feet and quirk a brow, meeting her stare and giving her the same once-over, strangely unsettled. My skin feels hot and tight in the face of her frightened pride.

Her thick, dark hair is secured in a tight bun, though sweaty, curly strands fly about her jaw, pulled from their confines. She has a regal face, but full, sensuous lips belie her stern expression. Those lips are trembling now, though she’s trying to press them together.

And that’s a problem.

Her nervousness excites me—it pricks my instincts hard—and a raw, unexpected picture of those lips wrapped slickly around my cock slides into my mind.

Fuck. We don’t have time for this. Damn her for being nervous.

Damn me for wanting to taste her fear.

I drag my eyes to the man next to her. “Beau, forget it. Let’s go.”

My friend snorts, not even looking back at me. This time I can’t suppress a scowl. The others follow me pretty much without question—even Jasper, no matter what he pretends—but it’s hard to order someone around who’s pulled shrapnel out of your ass.

The girl’s attention goes back to Beau as he gently grasps her ankle. Her bulky pants have been torn and mended so many times the length is uneven around her calves.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

My jaw clenches. Her voice is deeper than I was expecting, rich and husky as hell. A voice made for sex.

Beau tenses as well.

No. We definitely do not have time for this.

“Beaumont,” I warn.

He glances back at me with a dry look.

“Dominic,” he mimics.

“It’s not happening.”

“Just gonna get her fixed up is all.” Beau doesn’t shift from his easy crouch, though his thumb starts stroking gentle circles on the girl’s tense calf.

I’m going to kick my friend’s Southern ass from here to home if he doesn’t move.

Slowly, Beau’s other hand moves to the heavy pack at his side and rummages about, and he pulls out a small brown bottle, then turns it so she can see the label. She tracks every move.

“Iodine, darlin’. Nothing to hurt you.” He pauses. “Well, she might sting like a bitch, but I’m guessing you’ve faced worse.”

His voice is low and soothing as he unwraps the filthy cloth around her foot. She flinches, but he doesn’t slow. “Come on, now.

Infection is worse than I’ll ever be, I promise you that.”