I shrug. “I’m reasonable.”
Lucky’s lower lip is trapped between his teeth, and he’s staring at Eden squirming in my grip. Poor librarian—even Lucky seems more intrigued than inclined to help her. Jaykob is the only one looking at me, more direct and assessing than usual. But, after a long moment, he settles back against the wall, his attention flicking back to her.
Giving in, Beau sighs. “Sorry, darlin’， the mob has spoken.”
At that, Eden starts squirming in earnest, and I’m grateful Beau takes her wrists so that I can hold the rest of her.
“Wait!” She throws her head back, and I get an arm behind her back, bending her over at the waist toward Beau. He takes a seat beside Jasper and, holding her wrists, yanks her into place over his lap.
“I don’t want to be punished!” she squeals.
That actually startles a real snort of laughter out of me. “People usually don’t.”
She’s barefoot and still wearing the little sundress—the short, flippy skirt annoyed me all through dinner. The sight of her bent over and waiting is like a promise. A prayer.
I stretch my neck, eagerness thrumming through my veins. “What’s your safeword, little librarian?”
“My— My what?” she stutters, squirming over Beau’s lap again to get away from me. Then she freezes, looking up at him.
“You’re hard right now?”
The outraged offense in her tone has me biting back another laugh.
Beau doesn’t bother to hide his, but when she twists again, he lets out a strangled groan. “Is this a punishment for her or me?”
I share a small smile with him, glad for the warmth back in his face. Then my brain catches up to what she said, and I snap around to look at Jayk, at Lucky, at Jasper.
“You didn’t cover safewords?”
Jaykob gives me a lazy smirk. “We got to non-verbals.”
Jasper hums in displeasure.
“What?” Jaykob’s smirk takes on an innocent curve that looks profoundly wrong on his rough features. “Her mouth was full.”
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.”
I kneel beside her head and despite the awkward angle, she looks up to glare at me. Reluctantly, I have to admire the courage that takes.
And the sheer stupidity.
“A safeword, little librarian, is a word you can say to make everything stop if we go too far or if something is pushing you past what you’re comfortable with, and not in a fun way. Any word you like, but it should be one that you can remember easily in the heat of the moment. Any preferences?”
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.
“You—” For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m lost for words.
Her head lowers again, her shoulders curving in protectively. Seeming to make a decision, Beau hauls her up, so she’s sitting on his lap and curled against his chest. He looks as stunned as I am.
“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.
At the word equal, she tucks her head into Beau’s chest but not before I see her mouth twist. I glance at Jasper, who arches a brow—a clear “fix this” demand if I ever saw one.
“Eden,” I try again, “you don’t have to do anything here that you’re not comfortable with. I’m . . . sorry . . . if that hasn’t been clear.”
She murmurs something that sounds like, “Brbrk.”
I frown. “What?”
Eden sighs, then lifts her head. She hesitates but, after a moment, she clears her throat. She lifts her eyes up to mine hesitantly. “I want Bristlebrook to be my safeword.”
“Bristlebrook,” I repeat.
Did she hear anything I just said? Damn woman.
She gives a slow nod and some of her long, dark hair falls forward. “It’s only fitting,” she says thoughtfully. “It’s the first place I’ve felt safe since I can remember.”
Beau releases a long breath.
“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.”
I stare at her, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. I’d be the first one to admit that I’m not the best with emotions.
That’s what I need Beau for. But 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.
Maybe we can bring her out later. On small trips. Out with Lucky to go hunting, or with one of us to fix the cameras. As long as we can see there’s minimal danger before we head out, she can’t do too much damage.
But not now.
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.
I look at Eden, still on one knee. I haven’t knelt for anyone in my life, and I wonder if she appreciates the view. But, for the moment, even I can tell I should lay off the domineering. At least a little.
“Three of our cameras are down,” I tell her, deciding on a half-truth. We can start fresh once this shit is dealt with and she’s not in danger of running. “That’s a lot, even for us. It leaves us with some major blind spots. We need to patch them up quickly.”
Stubbornness firms her jaw, and I raise a hand.
“It’s rough terrain, and we need to move fast; you’ll only slow us down. That’s not an insult, it’s just a fact. You don’t know the way, or the area, and three dead cameras is too dangerous to leave for long.” Not a lie, exactly, just not the whole truth.
“But next time . . . next time we’ll have you come along, even show you how to do it yourself so you can help us going forward.”
Her mouth clicks shut in surprise. I straighten, then hold out a hand. “Fair?”
Eden looks at my hand as though I might have answers written on my palm. “You’ll let me come out with you and be useful, just like the others?”