Dylan (Dark Legacy Book 4)

by Jaymin Eve

  "Where do you think you're going, Brooklyn?" Matthew called out before I’d even made it a few paces. I hesitated, looking over at him, and found all the guides watching me with varying degrees of curiosity and interest. "The trail is that way." He jerked his thumb in the direction all the other campers had gone.

  Now I was even more confident I needed to follow Ben's hint.

  "Okay." I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with so much attention on me. The weight of Dylan's gaze alone was suffocating. "Dylan didn't say we had to take that trail, just that we needed to get back to the cabins." My gaze flickered over at him, but as I was trying really freaking hard to pretend he wasn't there, I shifted my attention straight back to Matthew. "Do we?"

  A small smile pulled at Matthews lips, and stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gave me a nod. "Alright. Good luck then."

  I frowned, nervous that I was making a bad decision. No one else spoke, not even Dylan. But from the corner of my eye I caught Ben’s tiny nod, and it gave me confidence.

  "Okay. Thanks." I adjusted my pack a little—it was heavy as crap—then awkwardly continued in the direction I'd been going. My skin prickled with all those eyes on me, but as I drew closer to the trees, I spotted a small marker. A painted rock.

  Bingo. I was going to bet I’d just found a shortcut back to the camp.

  Take that, Dylan grumpy asshole Grant.

  When I was too far away to hear voices, I took a quick pee break, downed some water and another energy bar, and then set off, determined I would be back in well under two hours.

  As I passed more markers, my joy at getting one up on Dylan, without resorting to sass or sarcasm, bloomed to life. Sure, I'd had a little nudge from Ben, but I'd been brave enough to take the chance and I would count it as a victory. I was sorely lacking in those lately.

  This path was relatively clear of any issues, being mostly a downward incline leading me straight to the main camp. I didn't have a watch or phone, so I didn’t know for sure how long it had taken, but it felt like maybe thirty minutes at the most. As I made my way to the largest building—the mess hall?—I didn’t see any of the other campers here, despite them setting off before me.

  Not wanting to celebrate too soon, I kept my eyes peeled for any sort of ambush, and just as I stepped on the first rickety brown stair, which was one of three leading up to the huge wood building, a shadow crossed over my face. I reacted on instinct, swinging my body so the heavy bag slammed into the person's side.

  "Fuck."

  His tone was harsh, two-pack-a-day-smoker harsh, and I swallowed my groan at who I'd just hit. Jonnie was half sprawled by the side of the building, and even worse than that, he was covered in snow that had been knocked loose from a nearby tree he'd clipped.

  Yeah, I was going to pay for that, but...

  "You shouldn't grab women," I snapped at him, exhaustion and the lingering lack-of-sleep headache getting to me. "What did you expect would happen?"

  Going on the offensive was always the right path. It threw people off track.

  Jonnie's beady eyes bore into me as he straightened, dusting off his jacket. "Listen, bitch. You mouth off at me again, and I'll make Blake look like your best friend. Where the fuck were you all night?"

  He grabbed me again, dragging me away from the hall—it felt like I sprained my damn ankle stumbling off the stairs. No attempt to wrench myself free worked as his grip grew tighter with each step, and I was worried he might break my wrist if he kept this up. Not to mention, he was dragging me toward his "shitty" cabin.

  The one thing I'd managed to hold Blake off on was raping me, and I'd be dead before I allowed his fucking goon to do it either.

  Looking around for a weapon, I used my boots to slow his stride, catching the thickly treaded soles on rocks and sticks. Even though it killed my wrist, I'd take a broken bone over this creep touching me any day. "Fucking walk, Brookie," he said, mocking me with the nickname my brother pulled out when he was beating me the worst. "Or I'll make you, and it will hurt."

  Fuck. This. Jonnie was not my brother, and I knew Blake wouldn't appreciate anyone else beating me. He liked to save the good stuff for himself. Jonnie just thought he could push his luck out here, and I'd be too terrified to say anything.

  He had no clue.

  I scanned the ground again, more thoroughly, and when a decent-sized stick came into view, I kicked it up between us, not even caring that it smashed into me at the same time as it hit Jonnie in the back.

  He cursed again but let me go, and I turned tail and ran, this time not looking down once. On ground this rough, it was only a matter of time before I tripped, and sure enough, I went down in a heap, not two minutes later. Before I could get up, Jonnie reached me and smashed his boot right into my ribs. As he went to kick me again, the sound of returning campers filtered through the clearing, which stopped him.

  As I dragged myself up with a new ache in my side—and a graze on my face, if the pain there was any indicator—a group paraded into view, complaining loudly about the avalanche they'd had to dig through to get out. No doubt an obstacle orchestrated by the asshole guides.

  I kinda wished I'd been there to dig instead of dealing with Jonnie and his bullshit.

  "This is not over, bitch," Jonnie murmured in my ear before he turned and walked away. As he did, Dylan appeared on the path, his gaze meeting mine as his eyes narrowed. He shifted focus, looking over my face and down to my arm, held stiffly at my side.

  I dropped the hold immediately, but it was too late. Dylan’s face hardened, and then faster than should be possible, he was in front of Jonnie. Blake's goon threw his hands up in surrender the moment he saw the sheer size of Dylan. He didn’t dare try and take him on. He was—unfortunately—smarter than that.

  Dylan didn't look my way again, just spent a few minutes saying something to Jonnie, his expression darkening with each word. Jonnie, the arrogant fuck, wouldn’t be happy to be questioned, and this would get back to Blake.

  My entire world was going to implode, I just knew it.

  9

  I was on tenterhooks all through breakfast and, despite how starving I was, barely touched the food as I waited for Dylan to ask about Jonnie.

  Only he never came near me.

  The rest of the room was loud, the guys having recovered from their night away. We’d lost about four who didn’t make it in time, but the rest were still here, bragging about their new “skills.”

  "You should eat."

  I jumped at the voice right behind me, spinning and wincing at the sudden pain in my ribs. I'd just gotten my side to stop throbbing from Jonnie’s kick, but that sudden movement set me right back again.

  "Eat?" I said to Ben.

  He grinned, looking far too fresh after last night. Guess it didn’t hurt that he was genetically blessed with perfect teeth and rugged good looks. "You're going to need the energy today. Eat as much as you can." He leaned down even closer, and he smelled as good as he looked with a musky, woodsy scent clinging to his clothes. "I'll help the best I can, but if it's too easy, Dylan will notice and make our lives hell. Just... keep an eye out for my signals."

  He was gone then, weaving through the tables to where the guides all sat. Including Dylan. Speaking of, it looked like his eyes were on me now, and I shifted uncomfortably under that stare. His anger appeared to be growing with time, but since he seemed to still be avoiding close proximity to me, I decided to follow Ben's advice: time to eat.

  I lifted the bacon and egg sandwich and took a big bite, then groaned at how damn good it was. They'd mixed relish and mustard in with the fillings, and even though it was cold now, it might be the best food I'd ever eaten.

  Lawsons aren't fat, Brooklyn.

  Fuck Blake and his psychological bullying. I'd done plenty of exercise yesterday and was entitled to eat more than my usual half a cup of granola and a fat-free yogurt.

  The sandwich disappeared faster than I’d expected, and as I swallowed some water, I looked aro
und for a bathroom. It would be nice to clean up a little before the next task headed our way. Spotting one off to the side, I grabbed my backpack, unsure if I'd be punished for letting it out of my sight, and made my way inside.

  Unlike my cabin, this room had showers, toilets, fluffy gray towels, and a fairly modern bathroom setup. As desperate as I was to shower, I didn't want to risk being naked in a unisex bathroom, so I satisfied myself with using the toilet and a quick sponge-off with a towel.

  Desperately wishing for a toothbrush and toothpaste, I searched through all the drawers, but they were empty. Could I make it back to my cabin? Breakfast was still in full force, judging by the sound of the shouts outside, so I might have time.

  Stashing the heavy bag in the corner under the sink, I lifted the sliding window, and icy air smashed me in the face. I hadn’t expected the drop to the ground to be too bad, but when I stuck my head out to look, I found a rocky and uninviting drop.

  Dammit. I mean, I could simply walk out the front door and deal with the consequences, but I was too exhausted to think about facing Dylan. I mean, the drop really wasn’t that bad, right?

  Hooking one leg out, I dangled on the edge for a second, reminding myself it was only pain and that if I landed in exactly the right spot, I probably wouldn't damage anything too seriously. I just had to protect my head and spine; most other injuries I'd recover from.

  Finding my fortitude, I had just twisted to duck under the frame, when the bathroom door opened. Dylan stood there.

  Our eyes locked, and he shook his head. "Don't fucking move a muscle, Ser... Brooklyn."

  His scowl appeared again, like the almost-slipup of my name reminded him that I'd lied to him. Repeatedly. Between sucking his dick, though, so he should count himself fucking lucky.

  Ignoring him, I knew I had a second to move before he got to me, so I all but rolled myself out the window, bracing for the impact when I hit the ground. Only I was jerked to a stop by Dylan. He’d somehow managed to get those long-ass arms out the window and caught the edge of my jacket. He hauled me up with ease, but since my provided jacket wasn't of the best quality, he almost lost me when the seam ripped. As I was about to fall again, he managed to wrap his arm around my waist, stopping a second fall. He held me, half dangling out the window.

  "Do you have a goddamn death wish?" he snapped.

  I hadn't been this close to him in weeks, and I couldn't help the way my body responded. Usually, when he held me up, I was against a wall and he was fucking me until I couldn't breathe or see or think.

  Today, though, there was no arousal in his gaze. He was uber pissed off.

  "I can't be a prisoner," I told him quietly, too tired to fight any longer. My face hurt. The graze on it was superficial, but it needed to be cleaned properly—not to mention my ribs, which were screaming beneath the steel-band hold of Dylan's arms. "I just wanted to get to my cabin and brush my teeth in peace. Maybe change my clothes." New panties would not go astray.

  Dylan's gaze shifted to the scrape on my cheek, and there might have been a slight thawing in the icy depths of his eyes. "You will walk out the front door and not take a risk like this again. Understood?"

  I nodded, desperate to get away from him. This was too hard. Too much. Kicking my Dylan habit had been almost more than I could manage, and being in his arms again was tempting the addict.

  With his help, I got back through the window unharmed. He stayed right on my ass as I shakily left the room, heading past the rowdy tables and the much less rowdy, but definitely more interested in us, table of guides. Dylan's staff had no idea what to make of the current situation, and honestly, neither did I.

  Dylan, thankfully, let me go the rest of the way alone, and as he sat at his table again, he snapped something at the others and they quickly got their eyes off me. My own tension didn’t fade until I was out of the building, heading toward my cabin.

  Outside it was chilly, but most of the snow had already melted, leaving a muck of icy dirt in its wake. This aftermath of a small snowstorm was my least favorite part of the white, fluffy stuff.

  My boots were covered in mud by the time I got to the cabin, and shivering, I ducked inside and slammed the door closed behind me. I wouldn't put it past Jonnie to ambush me again, and as I had that thought, I quickly slid one of the rickety old tables in front of the door. It wasn't going to stop him, but it'd give me a couple of minutes to find a weapon.

  With no clue how much time I'd have before we were called to the next task, I hurried to my bag and pulled out a change of clothing and some toiletries. Next to the toilet was a sink, and surprisingly, it had decent pressure and hot water. So I stripped and washed up even better than I had in the other bathroom, brushing my teeth twice before I dressed again in new clothes.

  I actually felt somewhat decent when I moved the table and opened my front door. As I stepped out, I ran straight into a hard chest, and whatever joy I’d built up vanished in an instant.

  "Dylan!" I gasped, shooting back as I pressed my hand to my chest.

  He leveled his eyes at me, anger turning the color to a deep, rich, mossy shade. "We need to talk, Brooklyn."

  I swallowed roughly. This was the exact conversation I did not want to happen. "Do we really?" I said softly. "We were fuck buddies. You cared nothing about me when your ten-inch dick was buried inside me, so why start now?"

  Dylan's lips twitched. "It's at least twelve inches."

  It probably was, the big bastard. I'd certainly hobbled away more than a few times from his treatment, but in those cases, it was pain I’d more than enjoyed.

  "Don't deliberately miss my point," I said as exhaustion once again pressed on me. "We didn’t have the sort of relationship where we pried into each other's lives, and yeah, right now our real worlds have collided, but as soon as this camp is over, I'll be out of your hair once more."

  I tried to step around him, and I almost thought I was going to make it, until his heavy hands landed on my shoulders. Being unexpectedly grabbed from behind was a trigger for me, but before I could freak out, Dylan had already spun me so that my back was firmly pressed to the door. He crowded into me, and I could see nothing but his chest.

  "I never decided we were done," he breathed, leaning down so his lips brushed by my ear. I reacted, my body tightening as my pussy throbbed. He did this to me every, single fucking time and didn’t even usually have to touch me. “You were the one who walked out on me and never answered the damn phone again. I tried tracking you down, but I kept running into Lawson when I was expecting Michaels. If you hadn’t lied to me—”

  “You’d have never touched me in the first damn place.”

  He let out a long breath. “Yeah, I’d like to think I’m honorable enough for that, but the night would have still ended the same way.”

  That genuinely stunned me.

  His lips pressed close again, and I was no longer thinking about anything other than dragging him back into my cabin. Or fucking him right here on the porch. It had been a long six-week dry spell. "Dylan, please,” I said, hoping to distract us both. “Let's not pretend this is anything other than you losing your toy before you were ready to throw it away."

  The intensity changed, and what had been a slow simmering of arousal was now fury. He growled, slamming one of his hands on the wood wall beside my head. He pushed his upper body back so our gazes could meet. "You’re wrong, Brooklyn. This is not that at all. You were never a toy to me, and my fury right now is about you hiding shit from me. I should have known your damn name. I should have known where you lived. When you dropped off the face of the Earth, I should have known how to fucking find you.”

  His biceps trembled near my face as he raged, but thankfully, he hadn’t completely lost control yet. "You're scaring me," I told him truthfully, and like I'd hit a switch, he sucked in a deep breath and pulled away, leaving me crumbled against the wall, once again staring at the restrained billionaire who had taken my virginity and a small piece of my heart.

/>   "Obstacle course starts in five minutes," he said, voice controlled. "You might want to put on something waterproof."

  When he was gone, I was left wondering how things could be worse than ever between us.

  10

  After digging out some waterproof clothes—thank god for Mary—I made my way toward where everyone was gathered. Matthew was front and center, giving out instructions.

  "This is a simple course designed to test your strength, stamina, and flexibility,” he said. “It will also test your ability to work together as a team. Some of these obstacles are difficult to best alone."

  A few of the guys groaned, but most of them took the opportunity to brag about their prowess, most of which had to do with their stamina in the bedroom. This camp had to up its game because so far it didn’t seem these rich assholes were any less cocky or any more skilled. Although, something told me Dylan and crew were only just getting started.

  And should not be underestimated.

  Case in point: Obstacle one on this obstacle course was a mud pit. Thanks to Dylan’s warning, I was the only one prepared for the icy sludge beneath a tangled mass of barbed wire. A sludge we had to crawl through for what looked like two miles. These guys, dressed in just light windbreaker jackets and jeans, would be soaked and frozen by the time they made it through.

  As I stepped up to the front of the course, my stomach rolled, and I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have let my sandwich get cold before I ate it this morning. My stomach had felt off ever since, and right now I wondered if I might vomit up my breakfast halfway through this course.

  Seemed likely. And with a set of piercing green eyes locked on me, that would be the ultimate shame.

  Matthew blew his whistle, and the amped-up guys took off. Fuck. I’d missed the rest of his speech, but whatever. Follow the course; get out on the other side alive. Pretty straightforward.

  As the morons in front of me pushed and shoved their way into the mud, some of them literally screaming like bitches as the ice hit their skin, I made my way slowly along the entire course, picking out the best route first.