Dylan. He was constantly watching me here... like he couldn't decide if I was just a lovesick, obsessed stalker or a corporate spy. Either way, he could keep me safe tonight. I just needed to convince him to let me stay in his room.
"Hey, you okay?" Ben grabbed a plate from beside me as I stood there, staring blankly at the buffet. "You seem super preoccupied, Brooklyn. Or is this your usual state of distractedness?"
I straightened, trying to get my shit together. "Oh, it’s fine, just some bad news from home, and I'm not sure how to find out more when I'm without any real way to communicate."
Ben paused in the middle of dishing some salad onto his plate. The buffet was pretty much only filled with healthy, energy-restoring foods, and the sight of it was making me feel sick. Maybe I needed a piece of cake. Or maybe I was just too stressed to eat because everything looked unappealing.
"I have an emergency phone you're allowed to use, if you need," he said, and his usual smirk was nowhere to be seen.
I shook my head. "I wouldn't even know where to start. My brother is who I usually turn to for help, and he's... out of contact."
"Well, the offer is there," he said, still looking uncharacteristically serious. "I've also been told I'm pretty good at listening."
I chuckled, feeling better for some reason. "I'll keep that in mind."
As we continued along the buffet, Dylan appeared behind Ben, and even though I could have sworn he'd already filled a plate, he had another in his hand. It wasn't until we reached the end of the spread, where I had two pieces of bread and some pasta salad on my plate, that Dylan nudged Ben out of the way and got in my face.
"My table. Now," he said, voice soft but filled with undercurrents I couldn't quite decipher. "So I can make sure you eat."
I wanted to protest because I was not his bitch to order around, but I didn't, because this was the perfect opportunity to drop all the hints I needed to get into his cabin tonight. Or anyone's cabin that wasn't mine.
Dylan always sat with the other guides, but he herded me toward the end of the bench. The plate he'd held, which was almost overflowing with food, was dropped in front of me.
"Uh, what is this?"
"Eat," he said sternly. "You're growing more fragile every fucking day I see you, and I won't have anyone die on my watch."
His voice was super low, and I jerked my head up to try and read his expression. “You don't want me to die?"
I mean, only a psycho would want me to die, of course, but to actively try and keep me functioning and healthy spoke of something more.
As he leaned back on the bench seat, broad shoulders spilling over the sides, he let out a dark laugh. "Think of the liability if our only female participant left here in a body bag."
Right, sure. That made sense.
"Point taken," I said, but I still didn't eat.
Dylan shifted his position, reaching out to drag me closer until I was basically sitting between his spread legs. His mouth drifted closer to my ear, and I forced myself not to react. It was harder than I’d thought it would be. "Don't make me force feed you, Brooke."
Brooke.
I'd never been called that before.
Brookie had been my parent's nickname for me, a name that had been corrupted by Blake, so I always insisted on Brooklyn from everyone. But when my name, this new version of it anyway, slid from Dylan's mouth, it fucked me up inside.
I was that sad and pathetic.
I reached for a small quiche, and even though I took a decent bite, Dylan didn't move away, keeping me locked in. His strength and natural magnetism held me hostage. "Why did you really lie to me?" he asked, the question murmured so softly that no one but me would have heard.
I swallowed my mouthful of quiche, and it swirled uneasily in my gut. Turning to the left so that our eyes could meet, I lifted my chin as defiantly as I could manage. "I'm a broken bird, Dylan. And you're a pterodactyl. We don't belong together, considering that one of us could destroy the other with a simple twist of their claws." And thatonewasn’t me. I let out a sad burst of laughter, bordering on hysterical. "It's ironic because the pterodactyl is my favorite dinosaur. It's the fiercest hunter and so majestic in full flight." My voice grew hoarse as I fought back tears. "Maybe that's why I craved to have you, even just for a short time."
His lips twitched, some of the ferocity fading from his gaze as he shook his head. "You are the oddest person I've ever met," he said. I'd never seen his eyes such a bright green before, and as always, I was trapped in their piercing gaze. "But before you get to call it your favorite, you should know that a pterodactyl isn't actually a dinosaur. It's a pterosaur; a flying reptile."
I blinked at him as a smile forced its way across my face. "How do you know that? Was that part of billionaire boardroom lessons?"
He finally leaned back from me, and I could breathe again. "Pterodactyls are my favorite as well, and let's just say that when I like something, I make a point of learning everything I can about it."
I wasn’t even remotely surprised by that; there was an intensity about Dylan that I’d rarely seen in any other person.
