Ipick my clothes off the floor, then dubiously discard the torn panties.I’mabout to put on the dress whenInotice the top half of it is ripped down one side as well.Witha sigh,Idrop it.Unwillingto go back to the main house in my bare butt—there’s been enough ofthaton show, thank you very much—Igo to the bedside table and look for a shirt.
Afaded picture sits on top of remarkably neatly folded clothes.Ipick it up, unable to curb my curiosity.Twoyoung brown-haired boys sit on the fold-out steps of an old trailer, a woman in a long dress standing behind them.Theboys have their arms around each other, and the smaller one on the left is missing a tooth as he grins at the camera.Thelarger boy wears a familiar smirk, though it holds none of the bitterness age would bring.Theylook happy.
Thetrailer is worn but well kept, the way my grandmother always kept hers.There’sa quiet pride in having nothing, sometimes.Everythingyou have becomes precious.Somethingto be protected.
JaykandIare more alike than he knows.
Ibrush a finger over the photo.Theymust be his family.Didthey pass away onDayDeath?Orafter, during the second wave?Mychest cramps.Bythe time everything went south,Ididn’t really have anyone left to mourn.
Ibite my lip.Heshouldn’t keep something this precious wrapped up in his clothes—it’s a good way to lose things.Ispot a large metal toolbox on his dresser and slip the photo inside one of the empty compartments, resolving to let him know whereI’veput it later.
Ipull out a blueT-shirt and it falls nearly to my knees.Quickly,Ilet myself out of the room and head back to the house, carrying my shoes.I’venever done a walk of shame before and want more than anything not to have to face anyone beforeI’veshowered and pulled myself together.
Ofcourse,I’mnot that lucky.
DomandJasperstand by the large stone fireplace in the towering sitting room, arguing in low voices.ThoughIcan’t make out his face from my place by the sliding door,Domspeaks with his hands—crisp, clipped motions—and his powerful shoulders are pushed back.Istart to assume that he’s getting the best ofJasper, but a second glance makes me hesitate, then shiver.
Jasper’smotions are precise, careful, and only occasional.There’sa sharp expectation, a sense of stillness in his stance that reminds me of the mesmerizing threat of a coiled whip.Hisbeauty is cold, carved with a delicate savagery.
Suddenly,I’mnot quite certain which of the two men is the more dangerous.
Inspite of my curiosity, my self-preservation is stronger.Ican find out what they’re arguing about later—if anyone is feeling more willing to share today, that is.
Thatthought ignites that odd spark of anger all over again, butIshake my head at myself before the feeling grows.Ineed to get over it.Iknow whatIsigned up for.Ican take being belittled and condescended to.Forcomfort and company?Iwilltake a good many things.
Lastnight flashes into my mind, and my hot temper shifts into a different kind of burn.Yes, okay.PerhapsIalreadytook a good many things.
There’sa lot to be said for this deal, really.
Asgently asIcan,Iease open the door—thoughImight as well have flung it open for all my deviousness wins me.Bothmen fall silent, instantly shifting so they stand shoulder to shoulder.Theymay have been arguing mere seconds before, but now they look like a team.Ateam that is one hundred percent focused on me.
Iattempt a bland smile and step toward the stairs farthest from the two men.
“Stop, pet,”Domorders, eyes narrowing on me. “Whythe rush?”
Mylips purse, andIgive him a disapproving look, trying not to quail. “Youknow, it’s quite impolite to call me that.”
Domjust stares at me, molten-eyed and expectant.Jasperstudies me too closely for my liking.Iknow whatImust look like.Myhair is a wild mess around me—my hair tie was lost toJaykob’sfloor—andI’min his overlarge shirt, and ifIsmell even a fifth as strong as the roomIwoke up in, thenIreek of sex.Notto mention,I’maching everywhere, and covered in sweat—not all of it my own—and other fluids thatIdo not particularly want to think about in the judgy light of day.
It’sno secret what we were up to, butIstill find myself wincing at their knowing looks.
“I, ah, need a shower,”Imutter, backing up before they can stop me again.
Iturn right intoBeau’schest.
Whyare all these men so tall and constantly in the way?
“Mornin’, darlin’.Wantsome breakfast?”Heholds a mug of coffee with one hand and, with the other, he catches me round the waist and pulls me close to his body in a quick hug.
Ican’t stop my slight gasp of discomfort.
Beausteps back sharply, his smile fading as he studies my face.BeforeIcan flee with whatever dignityIhave left,Domis behind me, lifting one sleeve of theT-shirt.Hisface stills.Stiffens.
“It’snot a big deal,”Istart, wishing, not for the first time, thatIwas hidden deep in my old cave.
“Howbad is it?”Beausnaps, andIjump at the harshness of his tone.
It’sonly a few bruises.I’vealways bruised easily.