Page 117 of Ensnared

Groaning,Ibury my face in my hands. “You’renot helping.”Ipeek back up at him. “Therehas to be something else.Hecan’t have been in relationships before and not be able to have a mature conversation when he’s upset.”

Domturns back to the trees, the tilt to his mouth vanishing.

Myeyes narrow. “Well?Whatdid he do with the others?”

Hislips press together in a grimace, andItry and fail not to notice how full and pretty they are.Notthat much aboutDomcan really be calledpretty.

“Youknow we shared,” he says.Nota question. “Ifhe was mad at our subbie, he’d come to me and we’d work out a suitable punishment.I’dfacilitate the scene, set it up, and he’d use it to work out what he needed to get off his chest.Buthe’s not good at initiating that kind of thing on his own.Tooconflicted.AllthatChristianguilt.”

Istare at him.

“Oh.”Asthat sinks in, my shoulders slump, andIrepeat more quietly, “Oh.”

Domhas made his position clear.Hewouldn’t touch me ifIwere the last woman on earth—and at this point,Imight as well be.

So, no cathartic forgiveness scene for me.Unless...

“Hewouldn’t—Wouldhe do that withJaykob?”Iask tentatively.

“No.”TensionbunchesDom’sshoulders. “Hewouldn’t.Hewon’t.Youmight have noticed, butJaykdoesn’t play well with others.”

“Butmaybe, it could be like that first night withJasper, when he—”

Dom’sbrows slant down so hard,Icut myself off.

“Thatwas a one-off,” he says curtly.

Mybreath leaves me in a long, slow sigh.Fine.Noworking things out that way then.

Dom’seyes are on me, butIdon’t want him doing that read-my-face-with-his-golden-laser-eyes thing, soIdrop my chin to my knees and keep watchingBeau.

“I’mgoing to scout a bit.Backin ten,” he says abruptly, pushing to his feet.

Ashe leaves,Beaulooks over at him, then at me for just a moment before his gaze skips away.I’mdebating whether or not to try the confronting-him method whenIsee what’s in his hands.

“No, stop!”Iyell, jumping to my feet.Beaulooks at me sharply, butI’mon him in moments. “Dropit.Dropit right now.”

“Eden, what—”

Hedoesn’t drop the herb, soIslap his hand, hard.Beaureleases it with a curse, butI’vealready pulled out my canteen.

“Youdon’t have any cuts on your hand, do you?Youdidn’t eat any of it, right?”Isplash water over his fingers, grasping his wrist when he goes to move away.

“Stop.Stop, woman.It’sQueenAnne’slace—wild carrot—it’s harmless,”Beausnipes, yanking his hand out of my grip.

Mypulse pounds in my throat, andIscan his face.Hedoesn’t seem ill.Hispupils aren’t dilated, no trembling.

Myvoice comes out much harsher thanImean it to. “It’snotQueenAnne’slace.”Ibend down and pick up the stalks of the plant, avoiding touching the leaves.Ina month or so, it will bud with tiny white flowers, but this one is bare. “Thisis water hemlock.Seethe purple splotching along the stem?QueenAnne’slace is entirely green and has tiny white hairs sprouting along the stem.Thisis hairless.”

Beauhesitates, then reaches for the plant.Ishove it deep in the pocket of my pants.

“No!”Iexclaim. “Leaveit be!Doyou have any idea how poisonous water hemlock is?Youreally didn’t eat any, did you?”

“No,Ididn’t eat—”

“Youwould have been dead within an hour!”Myhands are shaking. “Youshouldn’t just grab any plant if you don’t know what it is!Youshould know better than that.”

Beau’sjaw clenches and, for a second,Ithink he’s going to yell back at me.Butafter a moment, he steps back and picks up the pan.Hedumps the contents in the bushes.Stillnot looking at me, he stalks to the small brook and starts washing the pan.Hisback is like a wall.

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