Page 87 of Bound

Once more, he was glad to see the same sentiment stamped across the faces of the men around him. He was also damn glad that his two buddies were a part of that small crowd, especially as Ethan embraced his straight-to-the-chase DNA.

“Much as I’d love to make sure this sweet thing never pisses right again”—he quirked a grin when the imposter paled by four shades—“he clearly doesn’t know Carris’s whereabouts. So that means we’ve got to think faster and smarter.”

Shiraz straightened his spine. “That is correct. We are wasting valuable time. We have to find Jayd before they do.”

“They…meaning anyone in the damn kingdom.” Brick dove off the psychological high board and said it. Why not?

Best case, it engendered a few shreds of the royals’ trust. Worst, they took advantage of the moment to really toss him in the brig, likely located below their very feet. Also not a shitty thing, if Jayd had lingered anywhere near the spot at which he’d last laid eyes on her. But to share that key information, he also had to get bossy. What was there to lose? He didn’t care about getting the gold medal anymore. Or being the plucky little engine or even the world’s goddamned savior. All that mattered was getting to her before Carris. No matter what the cost.

“I might be able to help. But we’ve got to take this conversation elsewhere.”

Clearly, the princes still weren’t keen about heeding his play calls. Thank God, yet again, for Ethan and Z, reinserting themselves with determined intent.

“Brickmeister’s a hundred percent right,” Z asserted. “You might as well assume there are unwanted eyes and ears in here—besides the choad-wad obvious.”

“No offense intended, ladies and gentlemen.” Ethan spun around in a move that would turn Bruno Mars into a jealous biddy. A small clump of Arcadian females broke into instant giggles, clarifying that they’d forgotten offense was a real word. “Precautions,” the guy added, garnering himself another round of girlish titters.

Z hardly noticed. “You guys have anywhere that’s been tidied out, tech-wise?” he asked the princes.

Shiraz snorted. “We are in the middle of the Mediterranean, not Tatooine.”

“Any other time, I’d be buying you a beer for that line.” Z cuffed Shiraz on the shoulder. “Or whatever gets your rocks off around here. But right now, lead the way. Archer and I are helping you out.” He rolled his head, loudly cracking his neck. “By whatever wild reasoning of the cosmos, we have a special knack for lost women.”

Samsyn tilted his own neck. Jogged a look that vaguely resembled a curious German Shepherd. “And how do we know you are not the eyes and ears we should be wary of?”

Brick stiffened his stance. “Both these men are legit. I’ll stake my gonads on it.”

What the hell. His balls would be worthless if they didn’t find Jayd, anyhow.

Who the crap was he kidding?

If they didn’t get her back, his balls would be a pointless subject. His heart and soul would be the more questionable survivors.

Or, quite possibly, the fatal casualties.

Chapter Fourteen

When the hell will you learn?

Jayd lost track of how many times the castigation torched its way from her heart to her lips. But she let the anger come again and again, thankful for its arid fire in place of the wet stings that kept threatening behind her eyes.

When. Will. You. Learn?

Before long, it became the marching drum for her steps, as well. The interrogation her mind could no longer ignore.

But also for which she had not a single response.

It had not always been this way. Not so long ago, she had all the answers, so easily given. All of her limits were so clearly defined. Never, she vowed, would she tolerate a man who led her on. Or treated her heart—and body—as disposable. Or used his body to take over so many of her senses…and all of her control. Certainly not one who spanked her…

And made her like it. Savor it. Need it.

To such terrifying depths of her being.

Not. Ever. Again.

There. A much better chant. It was a perfect fit for her faster steps. If only she could escape the runaway train of her thoughts with matching speed. Do away with the images that took over more and more of her mind’s eye, even as she fled faster.

The first hurricane wallop of Brickham’s cobalt stare. The matching force of his hands on her flesh and her blissful inner tremors because of it. The taut glory that overtook his body when she touched him in return. How he coiled for her. Hardened for her. Swelled in such magnificent places for her.