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.