Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(65)

I grimace, shifting. “Where’s this coming from? You don’t need to worry about any of that, pet.”

Eden’s hands clench around her skirt, her lip trembling . . . but it still takes me a second to recognize it for what it is.

Anger.

She takes a deep breath, then smooths her dress back out deliberately.

“I’m not your pet, Beau,” she says. “I am your equal, despite what you all seem to think. I’m more than just your plaything. I can choose to leave at any time if this isn’t working for me.” Her chin lifts with quiet pride. “I’m here for myself—not for you.”

“I don’t want a mouse for a pet.”

Dom really should take five minutes to speak with her. Eden is no mouse.

She’s a force to behold.

And his stupid, patronizing plan is going to drive her away from us.

“Eden, if any of us have made you feel . . . if I’ve made you feel—”

A door slams loud enough to echo through the house, cutting me off and shattering the serious moment.

“LUCKY,” Dom roars.

All color drains from Eden’s face, leaving her white to her lips.

Ah, shoot, now that’s a shame. I give her a regretful look.

Maybe Lucky really will get her killed.





Chapter 20


Eden


SURVIVAL TIP #245

Find the biggest predator you can.

Then hide behind them.

“O h, shit,” I swear. All thoughts of their silly rules, and my place here, and being kept like a stray dog vanish in a crash of terror.

Lucky peeks his head from the kitchen just as Dom rounds the top corridor, livid. In seconds, he’s rushed down the stairs and is stalking for the kitchen.

I should be moving. I shouldn’t be here. But my head feels light. Floaty.

Am I going to faint?

I might faint.

The rest of Lucky pops through the door, with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

Dom grabs the front of his shirt, shoves the smaller man against the wall, and crowds him with every broad-shouldered inch he has. “Give it back now, Lucky, and I won’t take your head off. We had a deal.”

I lift half out of my seat, debating whether I should rush in and stop Dom again or just let Lucky get the ass kicking he probably deserves. My hands twist into a white-knuckled knot in front of me.

Beau looks over at the scene, leaning back in his chair to watch, seemingly entertained. Lucky is still grinning, that damnable dimple of his winking like a bad joke. I dart a look at Beau, like he might help, and he glances back, giving me a curious once-over. I can practically see him putting the pieces together.

Lucky clears his throat. “Technically the deal was that I couldn’t take it from your room.”

That catches my attention. A low, sick moan escapes me, and Beau’s brows shoot up in surprise. I need to go.

Now.

Dom freezes, then his head turns until he looks at me. Like something out of a horror movie, I wonder if it will keep spinning.

“You stole the bazooka from my room?”

I back up a step, releasing a gust of nervous air. “I— Well, I—”

Beau rubs a hand over his lips, not quite able to stop his stunned amusement from showing.

My eyes shoot back to Dom as his expression darkens. He releases Lucky and steps toward me, his face set in narrow-eyed disbelief. Dangerous intent lines his muscles.

“You went into my room.” Step. “Without permission.” Step. “Rifled through my closet.” Step. “And stole from me?”

Panic. PANIC. Damn it, why can’t I move? I’m frozen still; someone’s dipped me in ice.

“I— It was a bet. I had to. I lost, and I had to do a dare, and I didn’t have a choice, and I—”

Dom’s brows lower. It isn’t a pleasant expression. “Interesting that you’re more afraid of Lucky.” Step. “Than me.”

He’s close now, and I’m quivering. For the first time in years, I start praying under my breath. My legs need to start working. Yesterday.

God, he’s huge. Was he always this big?

Dom tenses, and I see the moment he decides to pounce.

Lucky must too, because he yells, “Run, Eden!”

Dom lunges and— finally— startled into movement, I twist away with a shriek. As I try to flee, though, I slam into Beau’s chest. With blatant enjoyment, he grasps my upper arms, and I give him a terrified, wide-eyed look.

When did he move? How did he get behind me?

“It’ll go easier if you submit to your punishment, darlin’,” he murmurs, his high school–sweetheart face filled with predatory delight.

I squeak in fear and, before I can think the stupid, stupid idea through, I kick Beau hard in the shin. Utter shock crosses his features, and his grip loosens.

Before he can recover, I spin out of his arms just as Dom pushes forward to grab me. Dom stumbles into Beau, who reaches out to steady him.

I don’t waste any more time, already darting out of the glass doors and across the front lawn to Lucky’s wild cries of, “Run like the wind, babe!”

I dare a look over my shoulder as I bolt outside. Dom has pushed off Beau and is moving quickly toward the glass doors after me. I can’t help but shriek again and glance back as I scatter.