Page 121 of Ensnared

Breakwhen you need to.

Preferablyin the arms of a gorgeous man.

Iscream.Itry to bite the hand, twisting as hard asIcan and kicking back to try and free myself.IfIcan stab him, ifIcan just get the knife around, thenIcan stop him.I’vedone it once now—what’s one more life on my hands?Ifight wildly, violently, but the grip doesn’t loosen, doesn’t do more than dislodge tears from my panicked eyes.

“Enough, fuck, darlin’, stop fighting me.Easynow.”

Ifall still, heart hammering in my chest.

“That’sit, you can drop the knife now.There’sa good girl.”

Ashudder goes right through my body, down to my toes.Theweapon drops from my numb fingers.

“That’sgood.IfIlet go of your mouth, can you promise me you won’t scream?Staynice and quiet for me.”

Beau’sslow, soothing words by my ear start to settle my rampaging heart.Hisbreath is warm and light against my chilled face.Inod, and his grip over my mouth eases until he’s cupping my chin, his thumb making tender tracks along my cheek.

“Ifound these.They’rebanged up, but they should still do the trick.”Gently, so gently, he slides my glasses back on my face.

Needingto make sure he’s okay,Iturn to look at him.Hismouth is a breath away and the air between us tangles.Thewarm brown in his green eyes seems to glow, and to my horror,Ifeel tears well up again.

“Beau,I—”Ipress my hands against his chest.Bloodis sticky between my fingers.

“Iknow, sweetheart.”

Apair of brown eyes in a too-young face flashes into my mind, pleading.Ishy away from the memory, and the flashes that follow, each one more tactile, more visceral than the last.Thefeel of my knife puncturing through thick skin, the spray of hot, salty blood against my face, the foul stench on his limp body.

“Stayhere with me,Eden,”Beauorders.Thenhe makes a sound of frustration deep in his throat. “Ineed to signalDom, okay?It’llbe loud.”

Buryingmy fingers in his shirt,Inod again.Breathingthrough my nose,Ifocus onBeau, scanning his body for injuries.There’sa cut on his left arm that’s bled a bit but seems to have stopped.Abruise is coming up on his right cheekbone.Bloodand mud splatter his clothes, but the blood doesn’t seem to be coming from him.He’sless injured thanIam.

Beaulets out a piercing whistle, followed by two shorter hoots, lower than the last.Idon’t flinch.

“Arethey all dead?”Iwhisper as we wait.

“Theybetter be, orIjust called them all over to say hello,”Beausays.Studyingmy face, he winces. “Sorry.They’reall gone, darlin’.Dom’sjust done the final sweep, butI’msure we got them all.”

We.Thatincludes me,Irealize, that acidic, gnawing nausea building in my stomach.Igot one too.

“Easythere,”Beaumurmurs, pulling me closer.

Awhistle sounds to our right, andBeaucalls out, “Here.”

Domappears through the brush, dark and fierce and bristling with a palpable energy.It’shard to tell with my vision out of focus, butI’msure color runs high along his cheekbones.Helooks both of us over, brows raising slightly at my bloodied hands.Ibury them deeper intoBeau’sshirt, not wanting him to see how badlyIfucked up this time.

AndIdid.It’snot a mess,Ididn’t bungle it.Ifucked up.

“We’reclear.There’sthe brook back the way we came where we can clean up.”

Clean.Alaugh sticks in my throat.AMacbethianurge to scrub at my stained skin rises, but look how it turned out for her.Somethings can’t be wiped away.

“Sheokay?”

“She’salive,” is allBeausays.

Hishand wraps around the back of my neck, and he urges me forward.Somethingrelaxes in me as he takes charge.Suddenly,Iwant to turn it all over to him.Hecan take responsibility for all of it, for all of me.DomandBeau, the other men, they know what to do in these situations.Withthese kinds of feelings.Iwas so, so wrong to thinkIcould do it myself.

“Youdropped your knife.”

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