Page 123 of Entangled

She needs a hug at least as badly as I need to give her one.

This last month has been the hardest, most brutal month of my life. I might have recovered from my physical wounds, more or less, but sitting in this lodge, unable to do anything except torture myself with every way she could be hurt—knowing I could donothingfor her—was like being hit with the most insidious infection. Purely toxic. Borderline fatal.

What good is all this training if I can’t protect the people I love? What good am Iat allif she’s killed while I’m wrapped up in bed? They had her fordays—I don’t have the details, but Dom told me that much. A week, he said. She must have been so scared.

Just the thought of it makes my throat hot, and that helpless anger burns again.

She deserves so much more. All I want to do is erase every line of strain on her face, banish every shadow that haunts her eyes. They should never have been there in the first place.

I just... need her to smile again.

She’s had such a sorry life, and it’swrong, so fundamentally against nature, that someone so sweet and wickedly clever should be so sad. Every cell in my body demands a balance to it. I didn’t protect her. I was fuckinguselessto everyone.

So I have to make this right. Somehow, I have to fix it.

A quick check of her room tells me she’s not there, though there’s already a pile of Beau’s things on her bed. He’s not wasting any time—not that I can blame him. I’m big enough to admit that I’m impressed by how fast he called dibs. Not that it matters. Beau better get used to sharing with someone other than Dom, because I’m about to be Eden’s new favorite stalker.

I cross the inner balcony and hear low voices coming from the music room.

“Please, don’t apologize, Eden. You were right. My methods have led me nowhere—it’s past time for change.”

I pause outside the door. I’d recognize that silky voice anywhere. And right now, it’s soft. Much softer than I’m used to hearing.

Jasper and Eden.

Before everything went down, things were tense between them, and Eden’s pain and embarrassment was like an open wound. She’s proud, she hid it, but he might as well have left a brand in her flesh. He’s given me a brand just like it, and I know its shape, its feel. I know how he can hurt. I just don’t know if he hurt her ego or her heart.

But the way they’re talking now... have things changed?

I can’t help the images, the guilty fantasies that keep creeping up on me. Him laying her low, making her crawl across his library floor in nothing but her glasses. Her rubbing her cheek against his thigh as he necklaces her throat with his hand.

Her cheeks stained red and her eyes sparkling with tears as he ties her legs apart and paddles her pussy. Him making me lick that paddle clean. Him dragging me by the hair until I’m tonguing her ass, her pussy, everywhere she’s wet and soaking for us.

I adjust my hardening cock in my pants.

I... hope they’ve made up.

“So you’re going to tell him?” Eden asks politely.Toopolitely.

Him?Mehim? Tell me what? Why are they talking about me without me? I frown at the door. It’s probably arrogant to assume they’re talking about me.

I still think it’s me they’re talking about though.

“Yes, I will.” Jasper makes a small sound, like he’s clearing his throat. “If you’d prefer I waited, Eden, I can. We don’t need to rush this. If it would be easier for you?—”

“No.” Her voice is too high. Too high and still so polite. “No, you’ve both waited long enough. Please don’t wait. I can’t... I’d rather get this over with.”

“Eden.” He soundspained. “It doesn’t have to be this way—so black and white. You deserve your happiness too. I wouldn’t ask you to choose.”

“He already has.”

Nope. No. This isn’t sexy. This isn’t a how-do-we-orchestrate-a-sweaty-threesome conversation. Or a how-exactly-do-we-tell-Lucky-we-both-adore-him conversation. This sounds bad.

I push into the room. I don’t know what I expect to find, but the sight of them hurts. They’re standing three feet apart—an extremelypolitedistance—and they both look wrong. Jasper’s shoulders are stiff, and he’s holding himself with none of his usual detached sophistication. He’s looking at her like he’s been flayed, and she’s salting his wounds.

Eden’s even worse. Her tired, beautiful face is rigid... and her head is ducked in a submissiveness that seems closer to defeat.

Ihateit.

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