“Gage, wait—”
But he was already at the door. “Gage,” she said, voice small, humiliated. “Gage, please—” He flung it open so hard it cracked against the stone wall. He didn't look back at the bed, where she sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest, wiping her face, dazed and unfinished. He bolted into the sunlight, his heart thundering in his chest like a trapped bird.
The door shut behind him with a heavy finality. He didn't get five paces before he slammed into a solid wall of wool and muscle. “Whoa! Gage, where's the fire—” Harry’s cheerful greeting died instantly as he gripped Gage’s shoulders to steady him. Gage pushed past him and stomped outside.
In the bedroom time stretched. In the few seconds before the men found her a million thoughts flooded her mind.Oh please, it felt so good—I felt like I was about to explode. Oh no, Oh no. What was that? Why did I enjoy that so much? Nobody has ever touched me there. But I liked it so much. What does that mean? What has Gage done to me? I wish he would come back and just touch me there one more time… I’m sure that’s all it would take. I just need it—more of it. Why did he just leave? I feel so dirty. If any of the men find me here like this I will be so embarrassed. I won’t be able to stay here anymore. I’ll have to go. I’m sure Gage will come back any minute. I’m sure he will. He loves me, doesn’t he? Oh, what am I doing here? What have I become? This is so wrong. Is it wrong? How can it be wrong if I like it so much?
The door opened again. “Snow—” Silas’s voice cut off abruptly. He stood there for a heartbeat, then retreated so fast the door banged against the frame. “Dax!” he shouted, voice high and panicked. “Dax! You— you need to come here.”
Footsteps thundered. The next time the door opened, it was with authority.
“Where is—” Dax’s words died as he saw her. He crossed the room in three strides, jaw clenched so hard the muscle in it jumped.
“Oh, Snow,” Harry breathed, moving to her first. He dropped to his knees, his hands hovering, afraid to touch her. “Did he—did you say no?”
She looked at them, her throat working as she tried to find her voice. “I…where did he go?” she whispered, her voicetrembling. “Did he leave me?” She looked down at her shaking hands. “We just…he just... he looked at me like I was a monster. And then he ran.”
Dax crossed the room in three strides, his face a mask of controlled fury. He didn't look at the bed; he looked at the discarded rope. He picked it up, the fibers rough in his hand.
“Are you hurt?” Bennett asked as he rushed in, voice worried but strong. “Were you scared?” He got her a blanket and wrapped her in his arms.
Dax’s eyes darkened. “Where is he?” he asked, the words like stones dropping into a well.
Drew, white-faced in the doorway, pointed vaguely toward the tree line. Dax straightened. “Stay with her,” he ordered Bennett. “Don’t leave her alone. Not for a second.”
Outside, the air was warm and sharp. The tree line loomed at the edge of the clearing; beyond it, the forest stretched. Dax found Gage not far from the cottage, standing with his back to the house, hands braced on a tree trunk as if he were holding it up. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths. “Gage,” Dax said.
Gage didn’t turn. “If you’re here to thank me for coming home early,” he said, voice flat, “save your breath.”
“I’m here,” Dax said evenly, “to tell you that if you ever leave her like that again, I will knock you out cold.”
Gage’s fingers dug into the bark. “She’s fine,” he said. “She knew what she was agreeing to. You all seem to have forgotten.”
“Fine?” Dax repeated, a dangerous calm in his tone. “There’s rope burn on her wrists. She’s confused. And you just left her alone like that.”
Gage turned then, slowly. His expression was a complicated tangle: anger, shame, defiance. “What did you think this was, Dax?” he demanded. “A courtship? You made the deal. Food,shelter, protection—for her body. I’m just taking what I’m owed.”
“We agreed,” Dax said, taking a step closer, “that it would be consensual. That she could say no. That we wouldn’t treat her like something to be left on a butcher’s hook.”
“She could have said no,” Gage shot back. “She didn’t. She begged me for more, begged me not to stop.”
Dax’s jaw clenched. “You left her like that. That’s not free-use, Gage. That’s cruelty.”
Gage’s eyes flashed. “Oh, and you’re innocent?” he sneered. “Creeping into her bed when you think the rest of us are asleep, eyes closed so you feel better about what you’re doing? We’ve all got our sins.”
“That’s different,” Dax snapped.
“How?” Gage barked a laugh, ugly and humorless. “Because you’re gentle? Because you turn your head when you shame yourself? At least I don’t lie to myself about why she’s here.”
Footsteps pounded behind them. Harry skidded to a stop, chest heaving, Silas on his heels. Drew hovered further back, wringing his hands.
“She’s not a toy you can wind up and walk away from,” Harry added, eyes blazing behind his usually mild expression.
Silas leaned lazily against a tree, but his gaze was sharp. “You broke the spell,” he said softly. “That wasn’t part of the game.”
Gage’s shoulders hunched, every line of him defensive. “You all act like saints,” he snarled. “You forget who brought her here, who laid out the terms! We’re not her princes in shining armor. We’re miners. Men. We take what we’re given!”
“You don’t get to hide behind that,” Silas shot back. “You wanted her. Fine! We all do. But you don’t get to… to hurt her because you’re angry at yourself or at the world!”
