Page 16 of Bound

“So what’s the problem?”

She shifted her weight before nervously tapping a foot. What is the problem? Besides how he had pulled her so close, making her beg for more of his addicting touch, before shutting her down with his cryptic crisis of conscience—or whatever this was? Besides how he tried to cover for it with his overprotective puffery instead of his heartfelt truth? Truth he had already given to her, in so many beautiful ways, during their hours in Paris?

But not in every way.

She knew that already. Three nights ago, she had even accepted it. Had signed off on that clear but silent condition, just as Brickham had signed off on hers.

That while they were together, in every way fate had gifted them, they could step free of themselves. Live free of their boxes. Feel everything they craved. Be anyone they wished. She had not just given him her virginity. She had surrendered all her inhibitions and limitations. All the boundaries in which she had been stuffed her whole life by her parents, her brothers, her people.

The box he was now jamming her back into. As fast as he possibly could. She could nearly see his mental packing tape too, at the ready to box her in. On the top of the thing, he might even scrawl a hasty mental note.

Paris Princess Rescue. Clingy. Crazy. This End Up. Keep Sealed!

Well, she would save him the effort. By doing it for herself.

By taking all her hope and anticipation and turning it into packing shreds.

By ripping out her heart and nestling it in the center.

By quickly closing the box around it and sealing it with long lengths of mortification.

Emotion that she somehow managed to strain from her breeze of an answer to the bonsun.

“There is no problem, Brickham. Everything is fine. Just…fine.”

“Fine?” But he was at a full spit, causing her a mental double-take. “Jayd, damn it.”

But not enough of one to go back to square one with him. To listen to more of the puffery and shallow excuses. She was back in the box now. Could he not see that? And why was it not making him happy? It was what he wanted, right? It was what everyone wanted.

She just had to convince her soul of that now.

“Mayhap you should get some rest, Brickham.” She congratulated herself at that strong keel, as well. “The afternoon grows long, and the evening will be chilly. I should get out of this dress.”

And after that, she would burn it.

Chapter Four

“Fuck.”

It had earned the repetition on Brick’s lips. Probably a hundred more too, but he reined it in to the single spew.

“Real slick, asshole,” he grumbled to himself.

That had all gone as well as a night mission with broken goggles. Replaying it all in his head was no salve for the feeling. If anything, it made things worse.

Everything is fine, Brickham.

Oh yeah, she’d really gone there. But goddammit, he’d been the one to lead her to that path first. He could sit here and fume about that, deflecting blame to his painkillers as well as the three-day nap from which he’d just roused, but he wasn’t that brand of dickhead.

But how he had handled it was just as shitty.

Jayd hadn’t missed a whiff of the stench, either.

“Fuck.”

All right, only ninety-nine repetitions now. His frustration was worth the ration. And who was he kidding about that? He was conscious now, which meant the panic was just getting itself dolled up for this tasty feast. Every ingredient was here. A strange new setting. A room he couldn’t easily leave. A situation he didn’t have a shred of control over. A lot of miles between here and his meds. A lot of miles.

Oh, yeah. Any…second…now…