Second Debt Page 4

“Nowhere. Not important.” I strode toward the dining table, glaring at Daniel. He was the only other man indulging in breakfast. Everyone else must’ve eaten and split.

  Daniel smirked, smearing butter onto a fresh croissant. Keeping eye contact, he stuffed it into his mouth.

  The idea of eating with my two least favourite people turned my hunger into repulsion. Grabbing the back of a chair, I made no move to pull it out. “Where’s Kes?”

  Cut pursed his lips, folding the newspaper sedately beside him. “How would I know?”

  I cocked my head in acknowledgement. Fine. If he wanted to play hard-arse, I could play. Squeezing the back of the chair, I nodded and made my way back to the exit. I had something to discuss with Kes, and wasn’t in the mood to deal with my father and his mind manipulation.

  Reaching the door, my fingers wrapped around the doorknob, but before I could escape, Cut said, “We haven’t finished. Come in. Sit. Eat.”

  I turned, finding it no hardship to find the snow that protected me. I vibrated with icicles, just waiting to use the glittering tips as weapons. “We have finished. I have things to do.”

  Daniel snickered. “That’s what you think.”

  “Shut up,” I snapped. “Eat your damn food and mind your own fucking business.”

  Cut raised an eyebrow, pushing back his chair to stand. Moving to the buffet table where Nila had collected the trays to serve the Black Diamond brothers, he used a pair of tongs to place a raspberry Danish and some fresh grapes onto his plate. “I’m not convinced you’re coping with the pressure of what is required of you, Jethro.”

  I swallowed, fisting my hands. “I’m coping just fine.”

  “Then why have you been making almost daily visits to see Jaz?”

  “Oh, someone’s been caught sneaking,” Daniel chuckled.

  I threw him a death stare before focusing the rage on my father. “Jasmine is our flesh and blood. I’m permitted to see family. Or is that against the rules now, too?”

  If he took Jaz away from me, I would go fucking rogue.

  Cut clucked his tongue, turning to face me. “Your temper and wisecracks have been steadily getting worse for weeks.” Tilting his head, he added, “In fact, it’s become so bad no amount of bullshit from you can convince me that you’re coping. You’re losing control, Jet. Losing it all thanks to that little Weaver Whore.”

  My heart thundered. Words flew and collided in my head.

  She’s not a fucking whore.

  Don’t fucking talk about her like that.

  Stay the fuck away from her.

  But I swallowed every syllable and forced myself to stay stoic.

  When I didn’t respond, Cut glowered and made his way back to the table. Sitting down, he waved at a chair. “Join us.”

  “No. Whatever you have to say, say it. I have somewhere to be.”

  Someone to see.

  “I do not like this side of you, Jet. I thought we’d turned a corner with you a few years ago. Don’t make me regret what I promised you.”

  My heart switched from anger to anxiety. I hated that he had such power, such sway over me. “I’ve done everything you asked.”

  Cut popped a grape into his mouth. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I know more than you think, and you haven’t been following the rules.”

  Shit.

  Sweat dotted my brow at the thought of him seeing me come undone while thrusting into the woman I was meant to treat like filth. “Name one thing.”

  My father’s eyes twinkled.

  Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

  Cut took a bite of his pastry, never taking his gaze off me.

  “You’re in fucking trouble,” Dan sneered.

  My head tore up, locking eyes with my psychotic little brother. I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone as much as I hated him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He wasn’t good for me. Healthy for me.

  Snapping between clenched teeth, I said, “Watch your tongue, Buzzard.”

  Daniel growled, “Don’t use that nickname, Kite.”

  “Shut it,” I hissed, glaring behind me just in case Nila had arrived for breakfast. I’d given her the truth in my last message, but I wanted her to come to me and ask. I wanted to stare into her eyes as she waged between anger at being tricked and acknowledgement that in some way, she’d known all along.

  “Enough. Both of you,” Cut ordered, pointing a spoon at us. “Stop being a twat, Dan, and, Jet, he’s right. You’re in trouble.”

  I trembled with pent-up aggression. The pressure of competition and testosterone in the room seemed to drip down the damn walls. “Why, exactly?”

  My father relaxed into the chair, believing he was in complete control.

  And he was. As much as I hated it.

  “What didn’t you do after the First Debt was paid?”

  My mind charged with all sorts of things. There were so many instructions I hadn’t kept. I struggled to recall one that he’d caught me out on. Did he know that I hadn’t dropped her core temperature before the whipping? Did he know I’d fucked her and in turn fucked myself?

  Keeping my face blank and cold—just like I’d been taught—I snarled, “I tended to her injuries, as per the custom, and left her to heal.”

  Cut sighed. The weight of his disappointment and annoyance crushed me. “You didn’t do the tally, though, did you?”

  My heart clenched. “Fuck.”

  He nodded. “Fuck, indeed.”

  How did I forget that part?

  My body filled with thick resentment. “I’ll fix it.”

  “Damn right, you’ll fix it.” Cut lost his smooth edge, showing his jagged temper beneath. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Jethro, but I’m not fucking happy. Get it done. Today. Now, in fact.” Grabbing his napkin, he wiped his fingers. “Go grab her and meet us in the solar.”

  My soul twisted, feeding off his blackness, his darkness. Every moment I spent in his presence, I slipped back into the man he wanted me to be. I became infected with whatever madness lurked within my family tree.

  “I’ll get it done. I don’t need an audience.”

  They could trust me.

  All my life, I’d lived with these men, and all my life, I’d drank their poison. I was one of them. It didn’t matter that I’d had a weak moment yesterday. This was who I was.

  I’m a Hawk.

  Before Nila, my family was all the company I had—their morals all I’d been taught.

  And up until two months ago, I believed Cut loved me—cared for me—that was why he gave me a system to follow.

  Another thing Nila and I had in common: we blindly followed our elders, naively believing they had the answers to our problems.

  No matter who Cut groomed me to be, he failed. I might want to obey. I might crave to be happy in the boundaries he’d set, but I never lived up to his expectations.

  Cut broke into my thoughts. “You’re right, you will get it done. And you’ll have witnesses to ensure it happens correctly.” His eyes bored into mine. “Unless you’d rather hand Nila over to Kes and spend the month working on your disposition?”

  My teeth clenched at the thought. “No. I’m fine.”

  The spike of possession and desire overrode my frosty heart, showing me once again how thin the ice was that I skated upon. It was no longer solid and strong. The surface was breakable, just waiting for me to step into its trap and drown me.

  I’d suspected for years that there might’ve been another way to ‘fix’ me. But whenever I attempted to revert to my true nature, Cut would notice and stop me.

  I knew what it did to me. I knew how to survive with the sessions, but ever since Nila had arrived, it hadn’t been enough.

  Nothing was enough anymore.

  “You’re not fine, Jethro, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. One more chance, son. Don’t make me regret it.” Striding past, he ordered, “Go fetch your Weaver. It’s time to fix your mess.”
>
  Nila looked up as I entered her quarters.

  Her onyx eyes cleaved right through my heart. I slammed to a stop as she glowered. Words flew between us, but none were spoken aloud.

  I don’t want you here. You disgust me.

  I want you to obey. You terrify me.

  I understood her temper, but it didn’t mean I had to take it. It wasn’t me who’d slaughtered and buried her family.

  I fumbled for my ice and strode into the room.

  Nila looked away, cutting me off from her thoughts. She sat in the middle of the huge oblong table, surrounded by material and brightly coloured pins.

  She’s sewing.

  I didn’t know why that comforted me, but it did. She’d returned to her craft because it was a part of her. She’d found a way to stay fundamentally true to her family, all while I drifted further and further from mine. Where I was melting and losing myself, she was forming into a defiantly stronger person.

  You’re doing that.

  It was because of me that she’d grown. Because of who I was and what circumstances we found ourselves in. I shouldn’t take such perverse happiness from that, but I did. It wasn’t her father or twin who’d made her grow and see her own potential.

  It was her sworn enemy.

  The man who’d tasted and fucked her.

  The man whose heart thumped uncomfortably alive whenever she was near.

  I couldn’t work out the complex mess inside. One moment, I hated her for dragging me from where I’d existed all my life, but the next, I wanted to kiss her for showing me an alternative to how I’d been living.

  My ice couldn’t compete with her.

  And what was worse, I didn’t want it to.

  “What are you doing in here?” Suspicion, lust, and anger buffeted me in her stare, turning me to stone.

  Before she’d arrived, I’d been a ball of twine—carefully packaged with no loose ends in sight. But Nila, with her needles and scissors, had somehow found a thread and pulled. Every tug undid the tightly wrapped nucleus of who I was, and I battled with fighting against the change or just giving up and letting it happen.

  I couldn’t remember the last time it got this bad. But it was my own fucking fault. I shouldn’t have let myself slide so far from my safety net. Who knew if I could find my way back?

  When I didn’t move or speak, Nila placed the swatch of turquoise cloth onto the table and narrowed her gaze. “Either speak or leave, I can’t be around you right now.”

  She couldn’t be around me? How about I couldn’t be around her?

  Silence granted me a reprieve. I stood taller, locking my muscles against the haunting memory of her yesterday.

  My eyes fell to her hands. Her index finger had a bright pink plaster on the tip—no doubt from pricking herself with a needle while working.

  Needle.

  What would she do if I were to suddenly call her Needle? What if I just admitted I was Kite? Would she hate me for the deception or be grateful that she no longer had to pretend?

  Why had she not confronted Kestrel? And how much longer would she continue to avoid my text last night?

  It fucked me off that I couldn’t drop my guard, knowing whatever she felt toward Kite transferred to my brother. He was winning, even while I stripped myself bare in the hopes of achieving the impossible.

  Her eyes glinted. “Dammit, say something or go!”

  Her voice jolted me back into the present. “I need you to come with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? You belong to me, that’s why. I don’t have to have a reason.”

  Her knuckles turned white as she fisted the material. “Carry on being delusional, Mr. Hawk, but disappear so I don’t have to look at you.” She turned around, showing me her back.

  Temper frothed in my gut. How dare she turn her back on me? I snapped my fingers, growling, “I won’t ask again. Come here.”

  “You didn’t ask the first time. And don’t snap your fingers. I’m not a dog and I will not heel.” She wore a gypsy cream skirt and black sweater. With her spine ramrod straight, she looked haughty and as chilly as any sovereign.

  My mouth watered to kiss her.

  My cock twitched to fuck her.

  My heart thumped with desire.

  An argument brewed between us, gathering force until the curtains twitched with an animosity-storm.

  “You’re right, you aren’t a dog. A dog is much easier to train.”

  “Believe me, if I was a dog, my fangs would be buried in your arse, and you’d be pleading for mercy. I definitely wouldn’t be well-trained.”

  My hands balled. A stupid flippant comment but it spiralled us deeper into a quarrel.

  Just knowing she had the guts to stand up to me made me fucking hot. I wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her, hard and ruthless.

  Were all Weavers like her? Strong willed and contentious or was she unique—a once in a lifetime adversary?

  “Turn around. Look at me.”

  If she did, I’d give into the throbbing in my cock and make my father wait.

  “No. I don’t want to look at a Hawk.” Her voice was sharp and cutting. Whatever liveliness she’d had before had disappeared—almost as if she’d left her soul where her family lay on the moor.

  Her dismissal and obvious unaffectedness of our pointless argument tensed my muscles.

  Didn’t my desire for her mean anything? Didn’t my text help her see me? The real me? Surely, the truth granted me some leeway for forgiveness.

  I stepped forward. I wanted to curse her for making me this way. This weak. “Last night—” I gave you more honesty in one text message than I’ve given anyone. Who was I kidding? She didn’t fucking care. She shouldn’t fucking care.

  Grow a pair, fuckwit, and forget about whatever connection you thought you had.

  Nila spun around; her cheeks dotted red with rage. “Last night! You dare talk to me about last night? Where I spent the evening mourning family members that were subjected to the likes of you?”

  The weakness she conjured inside switched to fury. I stormed forward, towering over her. “I told you not to go up the path, Ms. Weaver. Whatever you’re feeling is your fault, not mine.” Moving fast, I snatched her elbow and jerked her from the bench. “Enough. I’m done reliving something I had no part in.” Shaking her, I dragged her from the puddle of fabric heading for the exit.

  My fingers tingled from touching her. My lungs eagerly inhaled the unique scent of cotton, chalk, and Nila. If I wasn’t so damn angry, her smell would’ve entranced me. It would’ve granted a tiny oasis from everything else I dealt with.

  “Let go of me, you arsehole!” She squirmed in my hold.

  “No, not until you learn how to behave.”

  “How about you learn to behave, you cold-hearted-emotionally-screwed-up-jerk!”

  I slammed to a halt. “Careful, Ms. Weaver.”

  She stabbed me in the chest with her fingertip, a maniacal laugh escaping her perfect lips. “God, you’re—I don’t know what you are. I think your rule of not letting people call you mad or insane is because it isn’t a slur, but the truth. You’re bonkers, Jethro Hawk. And you can hit me for saying it—but it’s about time someone pointed out the obvious.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “You’re a nutcase. Completely cuckoo.”

  I’d never suffered a barrage of words so fucking painful.

  Grabbing her by the diamond collar, I shoved her backward until her spine hit the wall. Dropping my head so my mouth lingered above hers, I whispered, “And you’re the Weaver who let a psychotic Hawk between your legs. You’re the one who’s damned, not me. I have an excuse for what I am. You? You have no excuse but getting wet all over—what did you call me—a nutcase Hawk.”

  Her lips twisted into a snarl. I tensed for her barrage.

  Our eyes locked with fury.

  Then something happened.

  Something switched.

  Fury became desire.

  Desire became
insanity.

  I couldn’t withstand the command.

  “Fuck this.”

  I kissed her.

  She cried out as my lips slammed down on hers. In a seamless move, I pressed my entire body along Nila’s twisting one, pinning her unforgivingly against the wall. My leg jammed between hers, opening her wide, crushing my thigh against her clit.

  Her mouth hung slack for a second as her hips involuntarily rocked on my leg. My stomach twisted and everything I’d been trying to hide rose up completely out of control.

  Heat.

  Wetness.

  Hardness.

  An ache so fucking brutal in my chest it almost brought tears to my eyes.

  Then pain.

  I reared back as Nila’s sharp teeth punctured my bottom lip. I licked the tender flesh. She’d broken the skin.

  Blood.

  Metallic.

  Life.

  Her chest rose and fell; her eyes wild and sending messages that tripped and conflicted. She felt what I did. But she hated me for it.

  Too bad. I had to have more.

  I grabbed her, smashing our bodies together and reclaiming her mouth. Offering my blood, forcing her to drink my injury and share my bone-deep pain.

  She wriggled and fought, but beneath her rage echoed the same mind-crippling desire that turned us from enemies into something more.

  “Stop—” she moaned before my tongue danced with hers, stealing her curses. In her arms, feeling nothing but heat and passion, I could pretend life was simpler. There were no debts, no arguments, no families, no hatred.

  Just us.

  Just this.

  Nila stopped fighting and kissed me back. She vibrated in my arms, her hands pushing and pulling at once. Her lips opened to scream or beg, but I silenced her by tangling my tongue deeper with hers.

  She fought me.

  She encouraged me.

  She confused the shit out of me.

  My mind roared and instinct took over reason. I thrust against her, grinding my aching cock, seeking relief from the annihilating greed to consume her.

  Her back arched as I shoved her against the wall—harder and harder. I wanted to crawl inside her. I wanted to own her every thought.

  Agony erupted in my balls.

  “Fuck!” My stomach swooped and my gut roiled as if to vomit. Stumbling away, I clutched my cock, willing the blistering pain to ebb.