“You…” I seethed. “You think you’re the baddest one here. You think I’ll cower. You think I’ll obey.” Running both hands through my hair, I shouted, “I’ll never cower. I’ll never obey. You’ll never break me, because you can’t touch me.”
Spanning my arms, I presented my naked form as a gift—the gift he’d hinted at wanting but hadn’t taken. “I’ll never be yours even though you own my life. I’ll never bow to you because my knees don’t recognise your so-called power. So do your worst. Hurt me. Rape me. Kill me. But you’ll never ever own me.”
Breathing hard, I waited.
The room had remained silent. But now it filled with rustling of leather as men shifted in their seats. The atmosphere went from shocked silence to heavy anticipation.
My overworked heart kicked into another gear, sending my vision a little grey, a little fuzzy. Please, not now.
Planting my legs, gripping the soft carpet beneath my toes, I locked my knees against a wave of vertigo.
Mr. Hawk was the first to move. He placed his elbows on the table, linking his fingers together. “I was wrong. You’re nothing like your mother. She had a brain. She was smart.” His voice dropped the chivalrous country man edge, deepening into violent snaps, “You, on the other hand, are wilful and stupid. You don’t see that we are your family now. The moment you slept under my roof you became a Hawk by means of acquisition.”
I laughed. “I’m still a Weaver then because I didn’t sleep under your roof.” My kitten claws sharpened. I’d never been a fighter, but something called to me. Something intoxicating and lethal.
He leaned forward, anger etching his face. “You will learn your place. Mark my words.”
I wanted to fight. I’d listened to their damn history lessons, it was time they listened to mine. “I may not have records so perfectly kept as yours, but I do know my family is innocent. Whatever happened back then was between them—not us. Leave it in the past. My family created a business of making clothes. We dressed the royal court but also donated to the poor. I’m proud of where I’ve come from and for you to—”
“Jet!” Mr. Hawk pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shut her up.”
Jethro immediately slammed a hand over my mouth.
I froze. I knew I’d brought whatever punishment was about to happen upon myself. I couldn’t blame anyone, but I wouldn’t let myself regret what I’d said. I believed I was a good person. So were my twin, father, mother, and ancestors.
“You just had to push,” Jethro hissed. “I’m going to draw blood for this.”
My heart rabbited but I forced myself to remember one important fact.
They can’t hurt you too much.
There would be pain. There would be agony. But they meant to keep me alive. I had debts to repay before my life was stolen.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Mr. Hawk, ordered, “Jethro. Teach this woman that Hawks are a forgiving family but there are times when strictness is required in lieu of allowing little tantrums like this to occur.” His eyes switched from mine to his son’s. “Take her. Deal with her. I don’t want to see her again until she’s lost the misplaced righteousness she seems to think she’s owed.”
Jethro nodded, jostling our bodies. His fingers unglued from around my mouth and he grabbed my wrist. Every part of me shrank from his overbearing body, throbbing temper, and granite golden eyes, but I forced myself to stand tall.
I growled, “Whatever you do won’t matter. What happened before will never happen again.” I would never let my body rule my mind no matter what he did. “You may be able to hurt me but you should know how pathetic it is for a man to hurt a woman. That isn’t power. It’s a weakness!”
He grunted under his breath. “Motherfucking Christ.” His temper increased until the large room pulsed with it.
Another wave of vertigo grabbed my brain. But I managed the impossible, fighting through the grey unsteady wave—staying on my feet. I did it.
I fought the imbalance thanks to letting myself unlock so many facets of who I truly was. I stood proud and naked, wearing only dried saliva and bruises.
Jethro jerked me closer, scowling into my eyes. He swallowed his anger until nothing outward showed—no annoyance or amazement—he was as opaque as a black iceberg and just as sharp.
“If you will, Ms. Weaver.” Suddenly he let me go, waving toward the double doors behind me. They opened wide as if staff waited on the other side for his command.
When I didn’t move, he snapped, “Now.”
My arms wanted to wind around my body. I wanted to hide from his intense gaze, but I fought every instinct, every urge, and elegantly pirouetted on my toes. I left the room as demurely and proudly as possible. Without a backward glance.