“Nila, this is Jethro.”
I blinked through my bangs at the tall skinny boy who looked so dapper in a three-piece suit. I found his attire perfect for the beautiful teagarden I sat in with my nanny. She’d told me to dress up in my favourite ensemble—a white four-tiered dress with pink bows and ribbons—and she would take me for my seventh birthday to lunch.
The only stipulation was no one must know. Not even my twin.
My nanny nudged me. “Say hello, Nila.”
I looked again at the boy before me. He had black hair, which was combed to the side. Everything about him spoke of stuck-up and resentful but beneath that lurked the same thing I felt.
Obligation.
A small butterfly entered my tummy to think he might feel the same stifling knowledge that we were already destined for a role—regardless if we wanted it or not.
“Do you have a strict daddy, too?” I asked.
“Nila!” My nanny spanked my behind. “Be polite and don’t pry.”
Jethro narrowed his eyes at my caregiver. He balled his hands and his cheeks turned red from watching her discipline me. I thought he’d run off, his feet shuffled to the teagarden’s exit, but then he locked eyes with me. “I have a dad who expects me to be something I’m not.”
My childish heart fluttered. “Me, too. I like clothes, but I don’t want to be a weaver. I want to be the first girl to prove unicorns exist.”
He smirked. “They don’t exist.”
“Yes, they do.”
He shook his head, something cold and hard snapped over his features. “I don’t have time for stupid kids.” Spinning on his heel, he left me gawking after him. I didn’t stop looking until a man with greying hair and black jacket stole his son’s hand and disappeared into the sunshine.
We’d met.
How many times had we been introduced? Jethro had said I’d signed something in pink crayon. And now I remembered my seventh birthday luncheon.
Did I feel what I did because he’d been there in my past—like a stain upon my fate? Or was it because some part of me knew the kid I saw that day still existed?
Jethro pulled back, his gaze searching mine. “What? What are you thinking?” His lips were wet from kissing me.
A surge of need took hold of me; I pressed my mouth against his.
He tensed then opened, inviting my tongue to slink into his dark flavour.
I moaned as his hand moved from my cheek to the back of my skull, holding me firm. The moment he’d imprisoned me, his kiss turned into a meal. I was the main course and he did exactly like he’d said in his text as Kite. He kissed me so deeply I had no choice but to inhale his every taste, ensuring he lived forever in my lungs. He made drunken love to my tongue, driving me higher, higher with every silky wet sweep.
My blood raced with need, sending throbbing desire to my clit.
If he continued to kiss me that way, I might come from that alone.
“Truth does more damage than lies,” he murmured between kisses.
I’d lost the ability to reply. My body craved his, and all I wanted to do was tear off his sodden clothes and sink onto his cock. I wanted to forget about hostility and death. “Then stop lying,” I breathed.
He pulled away, stealing his heat and passion. “I’ve lied all my life. There is no other way I know.” Tucking wet hair behind my ear, he added with finality, “However, you’re a novice. You better become talented in the art of deception if you wish to survive my family.”
Without a backward glance, he left.
I balled my hands as I stalked the length of the corridor to the French doors leading outside.
I was riled, pissed, and entirely on edge. The molten desire of my almost-orgasm had switched into blistering annoyance. How dare Jethro come into my room unannounced and see me doing something so private? How dare he make me feel embarrassed but also strangely aroused at being caught? And how dare he tell me I sucked at lying, all while I caught him out on every single one!
After he’d left me to get dressed, my mind had created a few snarky comebacks. If he hadn’t have run—like he always did—I would’ve had the last laugh. I was sure of it.
I repeated my retaliation, committing them to memory so I could hurl them in his face next time we had a fight.
I’m already a better liar than you are.
Are you so stupid to believe I don’t see you?
Congratulations on winning the hypocritical award.
It’d been too late to say them, but I wouldn’t forget. It was time to tell him that I didn’t believe in his icy shell anymore. I was still afraid of him—on some level—but it was nothing compared to the sick terror I felt toward his father and brothers.
Crap, did I put it on?
I was so in my head while dressing in a knee-length black dress with a silver mesh jumper that I didn’t know if I’d attached my new favourite item.
My fingers moved fugitively to my outer thigh.
Thank God.
I relaxed when my fingers found the small garter I’d made out of Victorian cream lace and pearl buttons. Tight with elastic, it was used to hold up ladies’ pantyhose back in the day.
Now I used it to keep my stolen weapon from sight. The holster I’d made suited dresses and skirts but would be no use if I had to wear trousers. No matter, that was what bras were for.
After trying to eavesdrop on Jethro and the unknown woman, I’d given up and snuck to the dining room. There, I stole the ruby-encrusted dirk and placed a bronze figurine in front of the now empty hooks on the wall. I just hoped no one would notice.
“Nila! He said you were coming. I’m so glad.”
I spun around. My heart rate increased as Kes strode toward me. “Morning, Kestrel.”
He beamed; the hazy air of the ancient Hall blurred his five o’ clock shadow and neatly combed tinsel hair. I found it strange that the Hawks were so young, yet they were greying already. Almost as if time stole their youth in payment for their atrocities.