Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(44)

Mortification rockets through me. My heart pounds as my wide eyes stare into Jaykob’s smug ones. Then he grasps my wrist, thumb lingering over my racing pulse as he tugs my hands from his mouth.

Before he can taunt me any further, I glare at him. “Why did you come barging in here without a shirt on anyway? This all could have been avoided.”

And now that Jayk isn’t in danger of having them sliced open with Dom’s hunting knife, my traitorous eyes can’t help but slide over the delicious muscles that I was oh-so-intimately acquainted with last night. A shiver chases up my spine.

Bad librarian. He is not a piece of meat. His eyes are up—

He looks down at my chest. “You stole my last clean shirt.”

Oh.

“Well,” I mutter, “you ripped my underwear. And my dress.”

“Damn. I liked the blue one,” Lucky complains. Drama over, he turns back to the kitchen, calling, “Breakfast is here when you’re showered, beautiful.”

With his exit, the last violent edge of tension eases from the room.

There’s a heavy sigh from Beau. “Ah, shit. Sorry, Jayk, I—”

“Save it,” he sneers. “Least she’s honest, or I guess I’d be over the walls.”

Dom curses. “Jayk, I’m sorry. But what the fuck were we meant to think? She doesn’t exactly scream claw-your-back sex.”

I flinch and look at my feet, his words like tiny cuts of shattered glass.

“Trust me, she screams plenty,” Jaykob taunts.

Jasper lets out a low laugh behind me. “Interesting. She may enjoy me yet.”

“Ooohhhkay. I think Eden’s had enough,” Beau interrupts, coming to my rescue as I try my best to become liquid and melt through the floor. A wide hand brushes against the middle of my back, and when I glance up, apologetic woodland eyes peer down at me.

“Whatever. Gimme my shirt back when you’re done.”

Dom sighs and his voice softens. “Jayk, I’m—”

Jaykob storms out, clearly still pissed.

Honestly, I can’t really blame him. They’re meant to be his friends. Or co-inhabitants, anyway. War-man partners? While I can’t fault their protective instincts, how could they think he’s capable of that? He’s an ass, sure. Humiliating and rough and rude as heck. But he never made me worry about my safety at any point—and he might not have been polite about it, but he made sure I wanted him before he touched me.

I somehow don’t think he’ll be open to a sympathetic hug, though.

After one searching last assessment from those molten eyes of his, Dom leaves for the kitchen, muttering under his breath —I only catch the words “trouble” and “pain in the ass.”

After a moment, I nod at Beau to let him lead me upstairs, and his tension finally eases as I allow him to take charge.

“Eden,” Jasper says, and I turn, wishing he’d just let me hide in peace. He continues carefully, “If you want to talk—about anything—you can talk to me. It’s not entirely possible, clearly, but I will try to remain impartial.”

I remember that he’s a psychologist. He surely means well, but the veiled hints and threats about the nature of his preferences unnerve me. And then there’s this coiled, threatening stillness in him. I glimpsed it my first day here, but seeing him now, so malevolent and impenetrable, I can’t believe I managed to fool myself into thinking he was a kind, bookish safe haven.

“What were you and Dom arguing about when I came in?” I ask.

Jasper gives me a long, measured look. Finally, and oh-so-politely, he replies, “With respect, it’s not your concern.”

A chill runs up my spine, and I’m conscious of the line he’s drawing.

No, not drawing—a line he’s reinforcing. Dom and Beau were the first to dismiss me last night at dinner. I suck in a painful breath. It hurts coming from Jasper, who just a week ago was so sweetly reassuring, talking about family and our pieces fitting together. But they aren’t keeping me here to start a relationship. If I fit at all, it will be between their sheets, or under their feet.

If I’m to keep any pride at all, I need to keep my emotions contained.

You’re here for yourself , Eden, not for them, I remind myself. For as long as it works for you .

“Then no, I believe I’ll decline your offer,” I reply, forcing my tone to remain even. I glance at Beau. “I can see myself to my room, thank you.”

The concerned warmth on his face dims, but I brush past him, up the stairs, and into my room before he can speak.





Chapter 14


Lucky


SURVIVAL TIP #98

Sadists will only hurt you.

I flip the pancake into the air, trying to get it to do three spins before it hits the pan again.

“Can you just cook the damn things instead of playing with them?” Dom barks, pacing the kitchen behind me with the charged energy of a panther lashing its tail.

“Art. This is art, boss man. Don’t mess with it. And don’t get pissy with me just ’cause you didn’t think before you swung this time.” Before oh-leader-supreme can bite my head off, I slide the pancake off the pan and onto a plate, and then plant it on the edge of the counter for him. “Just swallow it and apologize. Plenty of sugar in these babies to help it go down right. Jayk’ll bitch, but he’ll get over it. We’ll need him on side soon enough.”