Page 143 of Entangled

Beau as anactualdoctor is much more embarrassing than Doctor Bennett.

We edge around discussing the others, though I think he gathers enough from what I don’t say to know none of it is going well. Those are a problem for tomorrow. Not for now. Not for here.

When we’re drowsy and not making sense anymore, Beau settles me against him, murmuring his I love yous that I whisper back to him in the sweetest, loveliest loop.

And that’s how I sleep—locked safe and untouchable in his arms.

* * *

When I open my eyes,it’s with sweating palms and my heart pounding in my throat. It’s dark. So dark. Everywhere and on all sides. There’s a tight, anxious crush around my chest that has nothing to do with the arm banded loosely around my belly.

Beau. Beau is here. I’m at Bristlebrook. I’m safe.

I repeat the mantra over and over, paralyzed in my bed. My bed that was meant to besafe. But this bed, Beau’s arms, they can’t lock out the night any better than Jaykob’s did.

You can’t run from shadows.

There are no thoughts to the familiar crash and tumble of feelings anymore. Just the dread, the fear. Theguilt.

Beau snores lightly, peacefully behind me, and I’m struck violently with fear for him. All the things that could happentohim.

Trembling, I finally manage to unlock my limbs. The door feels like a horrible vulnerability. And the room is too large—too many things could be hiding in it.

As quietly as I can, I move my heavy bedside table and shift it until it’s wedged against the closed door. It doesn’t make me feel better, not really, but at least we’ll hear if someone tries to come in.

I return to bed and stare at it, infected by the night.

Nowhere is safe.

Too many people like me survived.

Chapter34

Jasper

Survival tip #299

Don’t murder your roommate.

Bodies make such a terrible mess.

We stumble down the hall until we reach Dominic’s room—stumble because the brat won’t stoptouchingme. I press Lucien against the closed door, my mouth on his throat. His frantic heartbeat pulses against my tongue, and electrified pressure zaps my spine—to push, to punish, to please.

I move my mouth back to his again, luxuriating in the give of it, the heat, the way his tongue battles mine. Wrapping my hand around his throat, I press my fingers into the sides of his neck with enough warning pressure to make him groan helplessly, but not enough to cut off his airway.

I fight with my own restraint. I want Lucien on his knees. I want to choke him, suspend him, tie him into positions so tense he begs for release. I want to drip hot wax down his spine until he burns the way I burn. I want to test every whip and cane and flogger I own against that pretty skin. I want to cut him, freeze him, electrify him. I want to know every pressure point on his body so I can make him hurt with a single squeeze of my hand. I want to know what makes him cry, how far I can take him until he touches the clouds, and which pain is his favorite.

The possibilities are thrilling,drugging. The endless fantasies I’ve had have never been enough for the few times I’ve slipped, and now I can have them all.

And yet, I know... none will beat this one.

“Say it again,” I demand against his mouth.

He tries to kiss me again, the greedy brat, and I tighten my grip until he whimpers. He’s still wearing the sad, wilted yellow flower in his hair, and he won’t let me replace it with one better.

“I love you,” Lucien says, his eyes glued transparently to my lips. His dimple kisses his cheek. “Now you.”

My heart tears and tangles in my throat at the deprived neediness in his tone. My Lucien hurts. I push down my guilt and run my nose lightly down his, until he shivers. Until my lips brush over his again in a delicious tease for us both.

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