Final Debt

Daniel punched the sky. “Fuck, yes.” Darting forward, he lassoed an arm around my waist. “I guess that means you and I get the first round, Nila.” Possession leaked through his pores.

No!

A bone-deep sob tried to claw free.

Pointing at the tent flap, Daniel growled, “Come back when the screaming stops, Pop. I’ll make sure to leave her alive for you.”

Everything inside me withered like a flower in autumn, dying, dying, dead.

Cut ran a hand over his face. “Motherfucker.” His golden eyes turned dark, but he snarled reluctantly. “Fine.” Storming toward the door, he looked back one last time. “See you in a little while, Nila. Remember what I said—the minute I touch you, you’ll be on your knees begging me to fuck you. Don’t let Daniel steal everything. Save some of your strength for me.”

And then, he was gone.

Leaving me alone with an insane Hawk who deserved to be torn apart and devoured by wolves.

Stay strong. You can do this.

My lungs ceased to work. I wanted the earth to open up and consume me.

“Ready for some fun, Weaver Whore?”

I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at him.

Daniel came closer, capturing my chin, raising my eyes to his. I hated that his touch felt good. That my body craved more. That whatever drugs in my system chipped away my strength, my panic…just waiting for weakness to consume me.

“Don’t touch me.” I tried to remove my face from his grip, but he only pinched me harder.

“Ah, don’t be shy. Now isn’t the time to be shy. Not when I finally get to see what made my brother such a fucking idiot over you.” Trailing his hand down my cleavage, he muttered, “Don’t like your small tits. Perhaps it was your pussy that drugged him, huh?” Pushing me backward, he laughed. “Let’s find out. Shall we?”

I screeched as he shoved me toward the bed.

No torments or games. No history lessons or delays.

He wanted me. He would have me. And then his father would. And I’d be mentally, physically, spiritually broken.

Tears sloshed inside me like a storm upon a sea, smashing against my ribcage.

Don't give in.

Time sped up as unsteadiness latched onto my brain, throwing me to the side. My skin crawled. My blood boiled with misplaced disgusting lust.

Being in this place, this awful foreign place, imprisoned me worse than Hawksridge.

I’m all alone.

Even my body was a traitor as it hummed and melted, ignoring my demands to remain frigid and fighting.

“Get on the bed, whore.” Tossing me onto the mattress, Daniel cackled. The alcohol he’d consumed glazed his eyes, turning his touch sloppy and cruel.

I bounced on the soft bedspread, shaking my head to rid the imbalance. The tent parried and pirouetted, refusing to remain in one place.

Daniel threw himself on top of me. The air erupted from my body with his heaviness.

Instantly, fire exploded through my system. “Get off me!”

“Oh, yes. Scream all you want. No one will care.” His hands fumbled with the waistband of my jeans, tearing at the zipper.

“No!” My voice broke as the scream tore my throat.

“Fuck, that makes me hard.” Daniel licked my cheek, spreading disgusting saliva. “I’ll make sure you prefer me to my father, you can count on it.” His hand soared over my ribcage, latching onto my breast.

I squirmed and kicked and screamed and thrashed.

“Goddammit, you’re wild.”

I kept fighting. My petrified fear buried beneath lawyers of rapidly failing courage. “Stop. Stop!”

Daniel only laughed. “Tire yourself out. There’s a good fucking bitch.” He shoved my shoulders against the mattress, pinning me down. His legs spread over mine. “Been waiting for this day for months, little Weaver.”

His fingers tweaked my nipple and heinous pleasure shot through my system.

Lust.

Desire.

Pleasure.

No.

I could handle fighting. I could handle battling for my life. But I couldn’t handle wrestling with my body. That was supposed to be on my side. Mine. Not his.

Mine.

A surge of power swatted the drug’s effects away; I soared into life. My knee shot upright, colliding with soft balls and hard cock.

Daniel crumpled in slow motion, a guttural groan tearing from his mouth. His skin shot white as pain-perspiration decorated his forehead. Gasping for breath, he fell to the side, releasing me to hold his precious equipment.

Writhing away, I flew to my knees and rolled off the bed. “I hate you! Hate you!”

Somehow, Daniel fought through the agony, hurling himself after me to grapple around my legs.

We tumbled to the tent floor, pricked by twigs and debris beneath the canvas lining.

Daniel turned red. “You fucking bitch!”

His fists pummelled my side, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I squirmed and kicked, but the liquor in his blood muted whatever I managed to land on him.

Stumbling to his feet, Daniel kicked me in the belly. “That’s for hurting my dick, bitch.”

Agony radiated out as fast as lightning. I groaned, sickness dousing every inch. I curled up, holding my stomach, cursing him in every religion. Somehow, I compartmentalized the pain and lashed out with my foot. My toes hooked around his heel, sending him toppling to his knees.

He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from punching me again in the thigh. “Plenty more pain where that came from. Like it? Do you like it when I kick you like the bitch you are?”