His whole body had locked up like I’d clawed my nails down something raw inside him. I wonder what he’d do if I said it again.
During the next few hours, I keep my face smooth and obedient, my mouth soft with murmured praise for the horses, the goats, even the chickens out back. But my mind? It’s already clawing for ways out, ways through, ways to survive.
Finally, Vincent leads me out of the barn.
Let them think I’m settling in. Let them think I’m softening.
When they least expect it, I’ll run…and never look back.
“I win again!”I squeal, thrusting my arms up in the air, only to cringe at the pain. The sofa is comfortable with plenty of cushy pillows, but the healing process will take time.
From the chair on my left, Jude looks up from his book, monitoring me with a cautious eye, but I lower my arms, nodding that I’m okay. Then, I adjust the newsboy cap so it doesn’t fall. I’m still wearing the sundress. With the crackling fireplace, I didn’t need Vincent’s hoodie anymore.
Seth grumbles across from me and chucks his cards onto the coffee table. They scatter across the game board. “It’s statistically impossible. It literally makes no sense,” he says, because I evaded his Boardwalk/Park Place hotel holdings—and somehow managed to get Free Parkingtentimes.
“Just like she blazed right past all your bombs and won Stratego on her very first time?” Vincent mentions from the other side of the sectional sofa, where he’s remained for the past hour with a bundle of cream-colored yarn in his lap. Despite how he neatly takes up one whole side, his fingers move deftly, looping the soft thread into what looks like a scarf.
Seth snorts. “Yeah, says the guy aggressively crocheting his feelings like it’s a competitive sport.”
“It’s not crochet,” Vincent mutters, not looking up. “It’sCashmere.Be grateful. Goat luxury. Keeps us all warm during the winter.”
“I like to knit,” I say, observing his neatness, appreciating it.
And then, I get another diabolical idea.
I swear Raphael zeroes in on me whenever it happens…like the crazy psycho can read my mind. It’s already scary enough that he spends most of his time sitting or standing nearby, doing absolutely nothing but watching the rest of us. His predatory eyes focus most on me from his position at the fireplace, forearm resting on the mantle.
A muffled groan of pain echoes from down the hall, and I spurt out more laughter from my prank still working its beauty on Rory hours later. I wonder if Raphael knows I sneaked another dose into his backup “comfort” whiskey, as he called it. Not my fault if Rory didn’t hide it well. And left it unattended.
The best part may have been when he came out of the bathroom while we were setting up games.
“Want to play Monopoly, Red?” I’d offered. “Oh, that’s right, you’re still stuck inbathroomjail.”
He’d charged for me with savagery in his eyes. But all it took was one epic throwdown from Vincent to send the socio running back to the bathroom.
“Shit fucking dick!” Seth exclaims. “Is he gonna be in there all night?”
“I’d bet on it.”
Jude looks up from his book, and Vincent from his knitting. Seth lifts a brow. “What are you hiding, Briella Darling?”
I simply smile.
“Bedtime,” Raphael interjects firmly while drumming his fingers on the mantle, eyeing me from the side.
Seth wastes no time in standing. As does Jude, setting aside his book. Vincent gathers up his knitting supplies.
I dart my eyes between them. “You boys have a curfew?”
The psycho rises, approaching me with steady eyes. “We turn in early. This is our home. Self-sustainability requires regular maintenance. Everyone does their part. Everyone has a role.”
“What’s my role?” I don’t take my eyes off his.
He narrows his eyes on me. “To heal. Then, we will see. Jude already mentioned your gardening skills.”
“You’re not letting me go?” I shouldn’t hold my breath.
“No.” His answer was so quick. Unwavering. No hesitation. His eyes sharpen on mine—two resolute dark emeralds. “You are Kin now. You are blood. And you will abide by our laws. But you also reap the rewards.”
