Her presence gave no hint of how she felt about me. I couldn’t tell if she hated me, desired me, or nursed vengeance deep in her heart.
I expected all of that and more. I expected to be slapped and told to never go near her again. I tensed for a spark in the tinderbox of emotions we stood in, just waiting for this crumbling truce to annihilate both of us.
What Nila didn’t know was, if she struck me, I wouldn’t retaliate. I would permit the slap with no spike of heartbeat or temper and walk away. I would stay my distance until the next debt was ready to be paid.
Because I was done.
I’d found peace, and I didn’t want to enter the chaos of fighting with her again. It was too fucking dangerous.
“Where have you been?” she asked, moving closer and watching the staff drive a large firework peg into the ground. They fumbled around trying to set the fuse alight.
I didn’t say anything. Just took another sip of my beverage.
The hiss and fizzle of the fuse was the only warning before the firework shot into the sky and rained over us with sparks and thunder.
Nila’s face lit up with the glowing atoms, dark eyes wide with appreciation.
Once the night sky was no longer polluted by fake sunshine and the cloud of smoke disappeared, Nila frowned in my direction. “Are you going to say something?”
I shrugged. Why? What was there to say? Nothing of importance and I’d done enough talking. Enough fighting. Enough fucking masturbating over the girl I was destined to kill.
Why was she talking to me? Shouldn’t she be avoiding me at all costs?
I stilled as Nila placed her hand on my forearm. Her feminine heat seeped through my tweed, reminding me of the last time we’d been together and what I’d done.
I stepped sideways, breaking her hold.
“Jethro—I—” Her voice tugged at the unbeating heart in my chest. I risked a glance at her. Her eyes glowed with onyx intelligence.
“Is this a different kind of torture? You no longer deem me important enough to even talk to?” The hurt in her voice dove under my skin, igniting my blood despite my will.
Locking every muscle, I said, “Don’t flatter yourself. I have nothing to say, and you have nothing I wish to hear.” Turning my attention back to the fireworks, another explosion wracked the atmosphere, disintegrating into not one but three different sunbursts of colour.
“You are the most confusing man I’ve ever met.” Irritation twisted her voice.
A small smile twitched my lips. “Thank you. That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“What was the first?”
That you don’t understand me.
My secrets were safe as long as I confounded her.
I sipped my beer, deliberately ignoring her.
Masculine laughter suddenly rose as one drunken club member fell face first into the punch bowl. His woman kept slapping him with the ladle as he proceeded to slurp up the spilled alcoholic liquid.
Nila smiled, sighing. “I’d like to say I’ve missed you, but that would be a lie.”
My back stiffened, but I forced myself to relax. Good for her.
I suppose.
“Seriously? What happened to you? Two weeks ago, you would’ve jumped down my throat and growled like a demented wildebeest. Now…nothing.” Nila placed her hands on her hips, glaring.
I drained my beer, placing the empty cup on the food-strewn table to our right.
She huffed, running her fingers through her hair. “Fine. Keep your freaky silence. I’m sure Kes would love to talk to me.”
Gathering the front of her skirt, she pranced away.
Kestrel.
Images of her spending so much time with him bombarded me. Despite the success of the conditioning session I’d had with Jasmine, I couldn’t seem to stop myself watching the footage of Nila drifting around the Hall and laughing with my brother.
They were close.
She didn’t trust him—the look of wariness never fully left her face—but she tolerated and enjoyed his company.
Unlike mine.
She accepted his gifts without suspicion, and never tried to antagonise him to the point of showing his true self.
Why did she accept his friendship yet go out of her way to rip me to shreds?
I gritted my teeth. Stupid question. The answer was plain and simple. I was her tormentor; Kes was her saviour. That was how this was always orchestrated. I should be happy it was working so flawlessly.
Plus, she was drawn to him because of the messages. The ruse of Kite007.
My hands curled. She’d let Kes waltz into her life, because she believed they had history. She might even believe he was ultimately on her side.
Silly, silly Weaver.
She hadn’t asked him outright yet. I knew that for a fact. Everything would change when she did.
I stood frozen as Nila traversed the small distance across the lawn toward Kes. He reclined in a deck chair, a cigar dangling from his fingers, his shirt open and showing his muscular stomach. Kes had always been stronger than me—more brawn than brains—but he’d also never used it against me unless it was in play.
Now, though, he played a dangerous game, deliberately drawing Nila away from me.
My teeth clenched as Kes opened his arms and Nila perched on the arm of his deckchair. He said something to her, and she giggled.
My stomach churned; elderberry and thistle flavoured bile crawled up my throat.
Every second I stood and witnessed the friendship that’d blossomed between my captive and brother sent my gut convulsing.
Every moment I watched, my ice steamed until I billowed with smoke.
I didn’t give myself permission to stomp across the garden.
I didn’t even notice I’d gone from standing to stalking.
And I definitely didn’t permit my body to bend and grab her wrist.
But that was what I did.
Somehow, I’d gone from standing to yanking Nila Weaver from my brother’s embrace and dragging her like a hunted deer toward the Hall.