Page 59 of Ensnared

WhenI’mcertainIhave myself under control,Ishow him the miscategorizedDahlclassic with a small smile, and manage—in a much more civilized tone—to tease, “Makinga statement on the dichotomy of good and evil in children’s books?”

Jasperchuckles, rich and smooth as my morning’s melted chocolate chips, and swipes a hand over his angled chin. “Ido, actually—have an interest in philosophy,Imean.Ifind it quite relevant to my work.ThoughImust admit,Ihaven’t made use of children’s books just yet.”

“Notsuch a hit with soldiers,Iguess.”Ismile and pluck free two heavy—and beautifully illustrated—atlases. “ThoughIcan’t imagineLuckyobjecting, for some reason.”

“Lucien—”Jasperstops, andIlook up to see he’s watching me carefully.Afterconsidering me a moment, he sighs. “Lucienis an exception.Inmany respects.”

Iwait a beat, but he doesn’t elaborate.FeelinglikeI’mmissing something,Iturn my attention back to the shelves.Iwonder if this is yet another one of those things he’s decidedI’mnot to know, and the thought sinks my stomach.Hedoesn’t need to share anything with me, not under the rules of thisdeal.

Thisdeal that is starting to grate in unexpected ways.PerhapsI’vebeen too focused on the perks they included on their end of the deal... and not enough on the things they didn’t.

“Well,Idon’t mind the theories,”Icontinue, rearranging the books in my arms and ignoring my thundering pulse, “but so many philosophers just waffle on in self-importance.It’sa common fault in clever men—they so like the sound of their own voice.Oh!GetthatFrankHerbertnovel?Thatshouldn’t be here either.”

WhenIdon’t get a response,Iturn.Heleans against the bookshelf.Hiscrisp white shirt is open at the throat, revealing a glimpse of corded muscle.Thesleeves are rolled to just above his elbow.He’sa study in elegant disdain, regarding me with a neat, arched brow.

Icolor asIrealizeIwas ordering him about in his own library and am about to stammer an apology when he slowly plucks the book off the shelf, his gaze never leaving mine.

I’mnot too dense to miss the gentle mockery in it.

Orthe warning.

Movingcloser—closer than he needs to—he places it on the pile in my arms.Withone finger, he tilts my chin up toward him. “Ihave found many things are best demonstrated without words.”

Mythoughts liquify, andIcan’t remember exactly what we’re talking about.

Ashis finger strokes along my jaw, my mouth grows dry, andIwatch as his darkening gaze fixes on my mouth.

“Hey, hands off.It’smy turn!”

Thesudden sound ofLucky’svoice makes me flinch back, and there’s an undertone to it thatIcan’t quite decipher.Jasperdoesn’t drop his hand, though, nor does he acknowledgeLucky’spresence.

Luckycomes up behind me. “Comeon, beautiful,Ihave the whole afternoon planned.”

Iwant to greet him, but as though he senses it,Jasper’sgrip tightens briefly on my chin, holding me captive.Hislips thin, andIshift uncomfortably as thatofffeeling returns. “Youare more than welcome in my library,Eden.Andyou may reorganize it if you wish.”

Ah.Ishould have asked beforeIstarted doing that, too.

“Doyou enjoy chess?” he asks.Hisdark gaze finally flicks from my mouth to my eyes, and something distant and calamitous lurks in its shadows.

“I—”Ipause, hearing how husky my voice has become.Hispresence isn’tDom’sthundercloud, orLucky’swarm sunshine; it makes me shiver, like ice sliding down hot skin. “I’venever played.”

“Ithink you might be good.Joinme tomorrow for a game.”

Myarms are beginning to ache under the heavy books, butIhold his gaze.Astreak of daring darts through me.

“Ifyou say please,Imight be persuaded,”Itell him, though my voice comes out far more shaky and less tart thanIintended.

Thelighting catches the hollows of his cheekbones as he straightens, turning him villainous.

“Asimple, ‘Yes,Jasper’ will suffice,Eden.”Hisvoice is cultured, casual.Ripplingwith the warning of a great white beneath the waves. “Youmight do well to teach her a few lessons before she comes to me,Lucien, since you’re fond of her.”

Indignationpricks me.Nowthatwasa threat.

Thewarm, easy intimacy of moments ago is nowhere to be found, and his chilly censure seems oddly pointed.Ishe mad?Mygut starts a slow, queasy roll asIrun over our conversation in my head, trying to pinpoint whereImight have gone wrong.

AsIstudy his punishing face from beneath my lashes, my brief burst of nerve curls up and dies.Ican’t seem to summon any of the courageI’dfound yesterday withJaykob.SomethingaboutJayk’schallenging stare had encouraged me to meet his fury with my own—Iunderstand the chip on his shoulder, even while it infuriates me—but under the faint disappointment inJasper’sexpression,Iwant to cringe into nothingness.

“Ah... you know,I’mnot really the lesson-giving type.”Theuneasiness inLucky’svoice catches me, andIdart a glance between them.Luckyavoids my eyes and color is high in his cheeks.

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