Page 159 of Entangled

My fingers tremble as they run over his words. Then I flick through pages riddled with Jasper’s notes. His secret language to me.

Jasper.

Rather than forcing me open like a clamshell and plundering my insides, he’s put the control back in my hands. With a book and his notes, he’s helping me in a way I can’t refuse.

You’re not alone.

I know I’m not.

I think of Jayk, so quick to help me with my anger. Dom, recognizing my guilt. Beau saw my need for safety, and Lucky my stress and sleeplessness. And now Jasper, delicately handling my confusion and fear.

My mind has been a bog I’m struggling to break free of—but I’m not caught in a camp of threats anymore. My brutes aren’t dead. They’re here with me, alive and waiting.

And all of them have been telling me the same thing.

It’s time I started listening.

I settle back into bed, and flick on Beau’s terribly ugly lamp—and I turn the first page.

* * *

Jasper

I turn a page of my book, soaking in the quiet peace of the library. Most of the civilians have settled into their beds for the night, and I have the room to myself.

Almost to myself.

“You’re fidgeting,” I murmur. I don’t say it, but I know we both hear the silent, “Again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucien bite back a grimace and settle back into the Nadu position. He’s on his knees, legs spread, his hands resting on his thighs, and his bare chest teases me.

It should be relaxing for us both—a deep balm after a long day. But despite the cushion I’ve allowed him to kneel upon, he looks like I’ve stuck him atop pine cones.

Lucien’s gaze drifts up to me, and I raise a cool eyebrow at the impertinence.

He looks down quickly.

I close my book with a sigh. “Speak freely, Lucien.”

His shoulders slump in relief and those blue eyes fly up to mine. “On a scale of one to ten, how much does this get you off?”

Get me...

I regard him dourly. “Right now, that would be aone.”

The brat doesn’t even have the grace to look bashful. “I’m bored. Wouldn’t you rather go for a walk? Or I can show you how to do a cartwheel. That could be funny.”

Lucien dimples, and I resist the urge to lick into the teasing divot. It’s been four days since I returned to Bristlebrook and being with him—without sex—has been an education.

Infuriating. Delightful. Agonizing. Heart-aching.

But definitely infuriating.

“It’s been five minutes.” I regard him under my lashes. Even now, he fidgets. “You can’t manage high protocol forfive minutes?”

Lucien’s head tilts. His dark blond hair spills over his shoulders in a way that calls for my fist.

“You could punish me for it?” His dimple deepens, and he pulls himself up toward me so slowly that it can be nothing but deliberate. “That could make this game more fun.”

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