Page 2 of Bear
I blink, staring at him, my chest rising and falling so fast, I can’t catch my breath.
“The fuck.” Bear appears in my peripheral vision on my other side, and I glance at him for a fraction of a second as his big hand comes down on my other arm. “Enough, you fucking maniac. That’s e-fucking-nough.”
Duke hesitates for a moment before gripping the back of my neck and forcefully turning my head, but I refuse to meet his eyes. His other hand clenches my arm with fierce intent as he insistently whispers,“Mase.”
The intensity of his tone has my gaze swinging wildly toward his. I blink rapidly, then focus on the girl in front of me, really trying to see her. She’s in a worked-up state, her face flushed and agitated. Upset. With me.
This wasn’t my intention. I didn’t mean to do this, but the idea that someone in her past has put their hands on her, it sends me right out of my goddamn mind.Fuck. I’m such a walking contradiction.On a choked exhale, I release Lennon’s arms and stumble backward. Duke catches me, then grabs hold of me when I lunge in her direction again, yanking me against his chest and locking his arms around me. I clamp my eyes shut, the storm raging inside me isn’t dissipating at all. I need to find out what she meant. Lights flicker behind my eyes and sound crashes in my head.
Bear’s deep voice growls from very far away. “Do you have him?”
Duke’s breath hits my cheek. His arms tighten around my abdomen. “Yeah.” I pry my eyes open again and look on in agony as Lennon huddles against Bear’s chest. “Come on. Let’s go,” he murmurs in my ear.
I don’t want to leave her, and my feet remain rooted to the floor, but Duke is strong enough to drag me backward until I have no choice but to move with him.
Faint whispers in the hallway tell me we aren’t alone.Fuck.We’ve roused half the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I count at least three people standing there watching Duke pull my naked ass out of Lennon’s room.Fuck.Fuck, fuck, fuck.The rumors that are going to fucking swirl around this place… I don’t even want to contemplate.
Without looking in the direction of the open doors down the hall, Duke grinds out, “Get the fuck back into your rooms.” He throws his door open and hauls me with him into his bedroom. I’m too fucking stunned to argue or stop him, and far too upset over what I’ve done and what she implied to make any decisions for myself, anyway.
Duke kicks the door shut behind us. For a long moment, which extends into several more, we pause in the middle of his room. My eyes flick around, taking in the space. It’s much the way I remember from that disastrous first week at Bainbridge Hall, mostly neat and void of anything too personal, with two glaring exceptions. There are framed photographs on top of his dresser. The first is one of Bear and me with him on high school graduation day, all of us in caps and gowns. Tristan took it, if memory serves correctly. It’d been a rough year, but we’d made it.
The second was obviously taken at a dance—him and Juliette. Junior prom, maybe? They’re in the middle of the dance floor, eyes locked on each other, smiles beaming. That would have been only months before she died.Fuck.With everything else, I completely dropped the ball and didn’t ask Lennon about the mumbled questions that had left her mouth earlier. My mind rolls back to when I first encountered Lennon in the throes of her nightmare.
“Why are you so scared? Who is he? Wait. Who is he, Juliette? Wait!”
TWO
DUKE
“If I let you go,are you going to wig out?” I murmur next to Mason’s ear, unwilling to release my hold on him until I know for sure heisn’tgoing to freak the fuck out and race right back to Lennon’s room.
The wild, distraught look in his eyes had been both terrifying and gut-wrenching. And Lennon, fuck. She’s actually a little bit harder for me to read, but she’d been more in a state of panic than anything else. Not that I blame her, because fuck, he had not wanted to let her go. The first thing I’d heard when I ran into the room was his dire, desperate request for her totell himsomething. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have no idea, she hadn’t ever answered him. And he’d not let on why he’d lost it and wouldn’t—no couldn’t—let her out of his sight.
My arms flex as they band around his middle, my front molded to his back. I’ve fisted one of my hands at his abs, the other is firmly grasping the wrist and locking Mason against me.
I breathe steadily, trying to ignore the erratic jumping of my heart and the tormented thoughts that whirl through my head as I hold him. The last time he was in my room, he’d been just as naked. Trying to shake myself free of the anguish in my head, I patiently wait, knowing he needs me right now.
Several moments later, he slowly nods, though when he speaks, his voice cracks. “I-I’m good.” He takes several deep breaths, and I automatically inhale and exhale with him, almost as if my body needs to remain as close to his as possible; I need the connection, even though I shouldn’t want it. I drop my forehead to his shoulder. I hate my hesitation in releasing him, hate that he can feel it, too. Because I know the potential for him to lash out at me, insert the knife and twist—it’s high in these circumstances.
As I unlatch my hold on him, I watch him warily, the muscle at the back of my jaw twitching. “What the fuck was that?”
His gaze connects with mine, and for a moment he says nothing. My chest clenches, my lungs forgetting how to function. His dark eyes pin mine, chaotic and dangerous. Despite the fact I know Mason well, sometimes I don’t have a fucking clue what goes on in his head. He thrusts his hands into his hair, then tips his head to look at the ceiling rather than let me in and share his thoughts.
“I’m no fucking good for her. I needed to push her away.”
“I hope you mean emotionally, because physically, you were doing the opposite two seconds ago.” I step into Mason’s space, firmly grasping his jaw. He stutters out a choked gasp at my touch. I bring his head forward so I can look him pointedly in the eye. “She said to stop. To let her go. What the fuck, man?”
He wrenches himself from me and backs up a step. His gaze slips down to my mouth, where it stays for several seconds before he finally takes a deep breath. “You’re judging what happened in there based on the thirty seconds you saw.” He shakes his head, his eyes finding mine, searching. “Have you ever picked out a movie based on a snippet of a trailer, and you think it’s going to be about one thing, but then you watch the entire thing, and you’re floored because the actual movie is nothing like what you fucking thought you were going to be watching. Like, ‘Oh, fuck. This is a thriller. I thought I was getting something different because all I saw was the one sexy-ass scene in the teaser.’ That’s how you’re approaching this situation. Because what you saw in her room versus the whole of what went on between Lennon and me tonight are distinctly different.” His jaw clamps shut, teeth grinding. After another moment, he mumbles, “Still kinda messed up. But different. I told her things I shouldn’t have.”
I stare at him in astonishment, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.
“She knows way too fucking much about me. And I’m not responsible for telling you what you don’t know about your messed-up stepsister, but there’s something seriously fucked-up going on with those nightmares of hers. Maybe you should try getting to know her, try to figure out what the fuck is setting her off, if you’re as concerned for her well-being as you say you are.”
Way to put my brain in a blender and hit puree. And I’m so distracted trying to figure out the meaning buried in his words that my eyes roam. They follow every dip and groove of my former best friend’s body, causing my breathing to go shallow.
I blink and focus on Mason in time for him to grab the back of his neck with both hands and cautiously change his stance, cock swinging proudly between his legs. Because, yeah. Mason’s still standing buck naked in the middle of my room, completely comfortable in front of me. I can’t say I feel the same, but some sort of curious unease slicks down my spine. He watches me from under hooded eyes but doesn’t say a damn word. But that knowing look he gives me has me shuddering.
I allow myself one more moment of insanity, then I tear my gaze away, spinning on my heel before crossing the room to my dresser. Standing in front of the drawer I’ve opened, I spend several extra seconds poking around at the clothing inside before finally picking out a pair of joggers. I ball them up, spin around, and chuck them at Mason. They hit him square in the chest, and he brings up his arms to catch them before they can fall to the floor.
