Page 51 of Entangled

When I’ve regained a margin of control, I look back at him. Now’s not our time—not when we’re surrounded by strangers and coated in death. Not when I need answers, and to stare at him, at them both for hours—maybe for days—just to convince myself they’re actually here and this isn’t a fever dream.

I run my fingertips over his face, down his neck, drowning out everyone else until his hot, hungry gaze calms, then grows uncertain.

I linger on the angry red line that could have ended his life.

My demon howls, and hatred curls low in my gut again. Tearing my eyes from Jayk, I glare at the two women now standing near Madison. Heather.

Heather.

Maybe I was too quick to abandon Mateo’s gun.

There’s more going on here than I can make sense of.

“What’s going on?” I ask. But rather than the sharp, demanding tone I wish it had, my voice is... unfortunate. Transparently lust-drunk.

Jayk grunts, then taps my ass in a “get up” motion. I edge back, and a large, warm hand takes mine, pulling me up. When I stand, I’m very close to Dom’s hard body. And, God, he smells as good as Jayk. Those eyes are still poring over me, carefully guarded now, but it’s only stirring the thrashing storm in me to new heights.

Butsheis here. Heather.

HisHeather.

There’s a crowd of people all around us. Mostly women, from young to heavily wrinkle-lined, but the crowd is dotted with men. The group is checking on one another, some tending to each other’s minor wounds. Most seem to be watching us warily without trying to make it obvious that’s what they’re doing. I notice several still have bows and crossbows clutched in their hands.

And Mateo is still held in the giant’s grip, silent and grim, his eyes red with tears.

Trying to get myself under control, I stick out a hand to Jayk to help him up.

He stares at it, then up at me, bemused. Then he bats it out of the way with a snort and gets to his feet. Jayk stares at me—at the way Dom hovers just over me—and his jaw clenches.

But before he can pull back, I catch Jayk’s hand and twine our fingers together, even as I turn firmly back to Heather.

He goes entirely still.

“...Heather?” I ask uncertainly.

I look over at her, and she grimaces. “Madison is fine.”

At my blank look, she shrugs. “It’s Heather Madison, technically.” She avoids my eyes. “Guess that should have been covered in our introductions, huh?”

She smiles, glancing up at me, but I don’t smile back. All the things I told Madison, all the secrets I whispered... she knew them all along.

Little details come into sharp focus for me. Things I feel silly—no, downright stupid—for ignoring.

Madison isHeather. Heather was at Bristlebrook. Heather knew my men. Why wouldn’t she have told me that? Why keep it a secret?

I hear her whisper from days ago.“You’re a naive idiot.”

I start to shake. “I’m asking now,” I whisper.

No. No, no, no. She couldn’t have. Not after what happened to Tommy. She wouldn’t have done that to them.

Tome.

Her brow kicks up. “Asking...?”

“What information did you give them, Heather?”

The wry, chagrined smile dies, and she swallows. It takes a long moment, but she meets my eyes. She’s serious now, and I see the regret. I see the moment she knows I understand the weight of it.

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