Spikes had come out from somewhere, partially blocking it. None of them were pointed in. They were all pointed out. Nothing here was intended to hurt her. Soft, carefully designed, perfectly crafted to capture but not harm.
It was a trap she released as she hit her back in the center of the nest again. A meticulously designed trap meant to capture the curious and unwary.
Haven blew out a long breath, her arms flopping out to her sides.
“Crud,” she mumbled to herself.
Now what?
The ball was solid metal. There was no escape to any side. The only entrance or exit was the hole that was now too small to fit through and too high to reach.
She supposed now was the point that she should tear up the inside, trying to get out. Hoping against logic that there was some secret exit.
But a trap this neatly constructed, this precisely planned, wasn’t going to have something as easily utilized as a secret back route.
He didn’t make this for her, did he?
She knew she had been driving him crazy for a few weeks now, but surely he wouldn’t putthismuch effort into trapping her?
Or maybe he had. In which case, she was oddly flattered.
He’d really gone to all this trouble just to get her? She didn’t realize she’d been such a monumental distraction to him. No one was ever this determined to get her. She knew it shouldn’t be something that made her thrilled, but it kind of did.
But that still left the question of what now?
Throw a fit? Act crazy? Rage against the trap?
After thinking it over for a few minutes, she rolled over and pulled one of the pillows under her head. It was soft like silk and really comfy under her head.
Haven always tried to hide. She’d made it something of a game. One that was entirely too easy for her to win lately. If this was her first defeat in years, she could accept it with grace.
Haven Clarkson had gotten herself in trouble again.
And she was going to meet it head on. Whenever the Big Guy came back, she imagined he’d have something to say to her.
These weren’t good guys. She knew that. She’d overheard enough to put together the fact that they were objectively bad people.
But she also wasn’t afraid of them. They had morals. And maybe those morals weren’t lined up with what everyone else considered right, but they still had them.
Haven had that same issue, really. No one understood her or the fact that she’d walked right over lines of social acceptability in pursuit of her curiosity. They were similar in that regard. The Big Guy was someone dangerous, but he wouldn’t hurt her.
As confident as she was about that, she wasn’t at all afraid. Actually, she was pretty comfortable. This nest was soft and cradled her body like it had been designed for it. It supported her in all the right areas but gave in all the others. The scent was delicate, not overpowering, and eased any nerves that might arise and lulled her into a gentle doze.
A doze that quickly turned into an outright nap. After being woken in the middle of the night by water rushing over her and being unable to go back to sleep, she was extremely tired.
The comfy bower, that hypnotizing scent, the exhaustion of the night and day all combined to send her off into pleasant dreams wherein she was building a starship from scratch with infinite time and parts and labor to make anything she wanted. She wanted a holodeck like in the TV shows and a bedroom that could turn off gravity at will so she could float around. Oh, definitely a jacuzzi for maximum relaxation. And a workroom! She’d have the best workroom capable of making anything and fixing everything and it would have all the best equipment and all the space she could ever want.
And the Big Guy was there too. Working around her. Helping her with his brute strength to move and hold heavy things. Or pick her up as she needed to get her into better positions or to help her plan her next project. She didn’t expect him there, buthe was. Making a place for himself in her space, making really soft beds for her to lay in as she pleased, staring at her with those deep, glowing eyes that shined red and orange and yellow like the embers of a dying fire.
Yeah. Looking at her just like that. Staring down at her. Widening the hole in the trap. His expression one of confused horror.
Haven, still gripped by the lingering vestiges of her dream, gave him a little smile. Unreasonably happy to see the Big Guy.
Until he started cursing in his harsh, rough native tongue loud enough to jerk her fully awake.
Chapter 3
Vytln
