First Debt
Page 9His fingers curled around the delicate device. “Thank you.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes from it. My only link to the outside world. My only avenue of freedom. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I valued it and how stir-crazy I would go if deprived of the simple things, such as texting Kite.
Admit it, you’re screwing yourself up over him.
The past few days Kite had been…different. The messages from the night before last came back to mind.
Kite007: Have you ever noticed how things you’ve always been told were wrong are the only things that feel right?
Needle&Thread: That’s rather deep coming from the man who only wants to sext and avoid personal subjects.
Kite007: If I said I wanted one night of blatant honesty, no douche-baggery, no bullshit of any kind, what would you say?
Needle&Thread: I’d say you’d completely lost it and wonder if someone with a heart had stolen your phone.
Silence.
I’d been justified in not letting my guard down. After all, I’d tried many times to get him to be a little kinder, more human toward me, but he’d always shot me down. But as ten minutes turned into twenty and still no reply, I’d felt guilty for hurting someone who obviously needed to talk.
Why didn’t he talk to others who knew him? Find solace in friends who would understand? My earlier conviction of him being Kestrel had faded a little after the initial panic attack. Since his vicious remark, asking how I knew about his owning a motorcycle, we’d both skirted the issue as if we were both afraid to pick at that particular wound.
It was best to let it scab over and not spew forth poison that wouldn’t be able to heal.
This blindness—this naivety about our true agendas and names—was strangely hypnotic, and I didn’t want it to change. I didn’t want to let him go yet, and I would have to if I knew the truth.
Needle&Thread: Kite, I’m sorry. No bullshit. No games. One night only to be ourselves and let the stark, painful truth come out. I’m here to listen if you want. If you’ve had second thoughts that’s fine, too. Either way, I hope you have a great night.
It’d taken a while, but finally he’d texted back.
Kite007: Sometimes, it seems as if those who have nothing in life have everything, and those who have everything have nothing. Sometimes, I want to be the one who has nothing, so I can appreciate all the things I think I’d miss. But the scary thing is, I don’t think I’d miss a single fucking thing.
My heart fluttered. It was as if he’d pulled my fears straight from the darkness inside me.
Needle&Thread: I understand completely. I love my family. I love their faults as well as their perfections, but I can’t help being angry, too. By keeping me safe and sheltered, they made me become someone who was a lie. I now have the hardship of figuring out the truth.
Kite007: The truth of who you truly are?
Needle&Thread: Exactly.
Kite007: We’re all a product of obligation. A carbon copy of what is permitted in the world we’re born into. None of us are free—all raised with expectations to fulfil. And it fucking sucks when those expectations become a cage.
I couldn’t reply. Tears had spilled unbidden down my cheeks. I shook so much, I’d dropped the phone.
If Kite was Kestrel. He was hiding just as much as me. A man camouflaging everything real in order to protect himself in a family of monsters.
Jethro snapped his fingers in front of my nose, breaking my daydream.
My heart galloped at the thought of never being able to text Kite again, especially now we’d broken some barrier and admitted we had more in common than seeking sexual gratification.
I blinked, forcing myself to lock onto Jethro’s golden gaze.
“I was giving you an idea of how today would go. You asked me to inform you, remember, back in the woods?”
Blinking again, I nodded. “Yes. Can you repeat?”
He chuckled coldly. “No, I will not repeat. I showed kindness in bracing you against today’s events, yet you couldn’t grant me the courtesy of listening. I refuse to reiterate myself.”
Rolling my shoulders back, I tried not to worry about what my future held and only on what was important. “Please, I need my phone back.”
Jethro shook his head. “No.”
My heart sprinted. “But you said I could use it.”
“I did.” His lips twitched. “I also said you had to ask permission in order to do so. I want to check your history. Make sure you’re not disobeying the rules.”
Shit, why didn’t I delete my inbox?
“The rules?”
His eyes narrowed. “Rules, Ms. Weaver. I don’t have many, but I did request you didn’t contact your brother. If you’ve obeyed, you have nothing to worry about, and I’ll return the phone to you.”
Shit.
Not only had I been texting V, I’d also shared more with Kite than I wanted Jethro to see.
If Kes was Kite, Jethro would know of the connection I had with his brother. He would use that knowledge. He would hurt me with it.
I can’t let that happen.
I wanted to scream.
Standing as tall as I could, I said, “My brother knows.”
Jethro went still, his face tightening. “I suppose I should thank you for your honesty. I thought he would by now. The Weaver men aren’t ones for letting us take their women. Even with the correct paperwork.”
I glared. “You knew he would come for me?”
Jethro nodded. “I suspected, and your father, too. It’s been the case for hundreds of years. Do you really think your father didn’t come and try to rescue your mother?” He laughed. “What sort of man do you think he is?”
A man I never knew.
Jethro smirked, seeing my answer flicker in my eyes. He reached out, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “To lose faith so soon in the ones you hold most dear is the worst crime of all, Ms. Weaver. I hope, for your sake, he never knows how you doubted him.”
“Why are you telling me this? Isn’t it better for you if I feel cut off and abandoned?”
He shook his head, his fingers dropping from my ear to cup the back of my neck. “No. Where’s the fun in that? You were loved. You are loved. It’s more bittersweet to know the men who tried to protect you are now on the outside trying to break in to free you. It’s much more fun when there are more players in the game.”
He grinned, looking positively light-hearted. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
He gripped my neck harder. “Regardless, I like it.” His eyes drifted from mine to latch onto my mouth. The air between us went from sharp to lust-laden. His tongue came out, tracing his bottom lip.
My core warmed. I was too weak to ignore the masculine call of him, even while hating his guts.
His thumb caressed the column of my neck, both in a threat and a tease. “You won the other night. We both know that. But you won’t win today. Today is mine. Today, you obey.”
I couldn’t breathe. His mouth came so close to mine, making me drunk on the anticipation of kissing.
He’d tormented me with the illusion of a kiss ever since we’d met: in the coffee shop, by the stables as I squirmed on his fingers, and now here. His lips were a fraction away from claiming mine. His breath smelled of mint and sin, and his fingers dug into my nape with everything he kept hidden.
A kiss could very well be the one thing that could shatter the icy wall he hid behind once and for all.
I swayed forward, trying to capture his mouth.
He reared back, clucking his tongue. “So eager, Ms. Weaver. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like the taste of me.” His brow lowered to darken his eyes. “You seemed to enjoy what I shot down your throat in the woods.”
That was how he wanted to play? Fine. I would play dirty. I had nothing left but to tear away any illusion of being an innocent seamstress and embrace this nonsensical war. I wanted to roll in dirt and filth; I would meet him on the battlefield and never back down.
“I did enjoy it. But not as much as you enjoyed sticking your tongue inside me.” Smiling coyly, I whispered, “Admit it, Jethro…admit that your mouth waters to have more of me. I bet your cock is hard right now, thinking of going where your lucky lips have been.”
I quaked with an odd combination of fear and confidence. “You could do it, you know. I wouldn’t stop you. In fact, if you want to know the truth—the deep, dark, bitter truth—I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you fill me, thrusting into me, stretching me to the point of pain. Want to know why?”
Somehow, I’d started this masquerade to get under his skin, but I’d successfully gotten under my own. My breath became a pant. My skin sparked with need. My core twisted with wetness.
Jethro’s lips parted, his fingers clutching harder and harder around my nape. “I know what you’re doing, and no, I don’t want to know why.”
The air throbbed thick and hot, threading around us with blatant need. “I don’t care. I’ll tell you anyway.” Licking my lips, I murmured, “I want you to fuck me, Jethro Hawk, so you can see that you may own my body, but you will never own my soul. By taking me, you’ll finally realize that I’m the strongest one here. That I can manipulate you into wanting me.”
Taking a huge risk and gambling with my life, I reached up to cup his cheek.
He flinched but didn’t move away. “The moment when you fill me, you’ll see. That moment when you douse me in your cum, you’ll be completely in my power. I’ll own you. A Weaver owning a pet Hawk.”
And when I’d collared and blinded him, I would use my bird of prey to hunt on my behalf. I would teach him to tear out the hearts of my enemies and obey my every whim. Because I was done being controlled. I was done being a girl.
I’m unconquerable.
Silence fell thick and cloying. We both didn’t move, our breathing ragged and torn.
Then Jethro released me, stepping back with unmeasured steps. “Confidence will only hurt you in the end.”
The back of my neck tingled from where he’d held me. “I guess we’ll see. Unless you plan never to sleep with me.”
Ignoring that, he snatched my wrist and dragged me toward the door. “Enough. I’m done with your games.”
His voice dropped to a hiss. “First, you have a history lesson, and then…”
My heart fell into my toes as he wrenched open the door and tugged me into the corridor.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Then?”
Smiling cruelly, he said, “Then it’s time for payment. Today is your First Debt, Ms. Weaver. The Debt Inheritance has begun.”
FUCK IT ALL to hell.
It’d taken the longest session of my life to claw back my chilly shell. It’d taken more out of me than even the first lesson taught by my father.
But within ten minutes, Nila fucking Weaver had found the smallest of cracks and used a crowbar of words to snap it wider.
Too bad for her, I wasn’t giving in today. I had a job to do—a mandate to fulfil—and I would carry it out to the best of my ability. If I didn’t, everyone would see. And everyone would know that the firstborn son was weak.
I’d been watching Kestrel and his sneaky smiles. I’d been stalking Daniel and his maddening glares. They both wanted what I had. And I wouldn’t give my father any reason to think I couldn’t tame Nila like any self-respecting Hawk. Cameras around the house would report how I treated Nila to Cut and the Black Diamond brotherhood. Spies would be on the lookout, judging my final test to ensure the Hawk fortune was going to the right brother.
This was the ultimate test. The Debt Inheritance was more than history and payments—it was an important sequence of events that every firstborn Hawk had to complete in order to inherit his legacy.
If I failed…who knew if my father would let me live. A firstborn son didn’t necessarily inherit everything—not if death stole him too soon.
And judging by family records, there had been a few that hadn’t passed the examination.
I can’t afford to fuck it up.
Not if I wanted to keep Nila as mine.
Not if I wanted to keep my own life intact.
And not if I wanted to…protect…her from men who would undoubtedly be worse than me.
Protect.
What a strange, horrible word. It came layered with responsibility and commitment. Both were fucking vile on my tongue.
As I dragged Nila down the corridor, I gritted my teeth at the flashes of light on hidden camera lenses. What Nila didn’t know was this was all a charade and we were the main attraction, playing it up for the audience behind the curtain.
In a way, we were both controlled—her by love, me by…
Clenching my jaw, I shook my head. Get out. You found that silence. Time to find it again. The cameras are rolling, the puppeteers are tugging, and it’s show-time.
Stalking past the corridor that led to the bachelor wing—my bachelor wing—I kept tugging my unwilling Weaver toward the first part of the debt.
I was lucky that so much of the house was segmented just for my use. My brothers shared with the Diamonds. Their quarters far exceeded any other compound, but they still had strict rules to follow.
My stomach tensed, thinking of last night’s business. We always conducted the bulk of our work at night. Ten of us had fulfilled the brief, and I’d cranked up my newest Harley that’d arrived from Milan, thanks to Flaw, and thundered through the darkness to ensure a new diamond shipment made it intact to the cutters and dealers.