Текст книги "Debt Inheritance"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

I KNEW WHEN she’d read it.

I knew when the final sentence sank in.

We had a document signed, sealed, and delivered by the royal magistrate of England giving us carte blanche to do as we liked. There was nothing illegal about my actions. There was nothing anyone could find me guilty of. No judicial system would save her.

It was the ultimate approval.

Not to mention, we had wealth to ensure no one would contest it. There was nothing to fight against. The sooner she accepted that, the easier this would be.

Nila’s eyes bugged wide, looking up from the parchment. Grabbing her shoulders, I backed her against the table. The horror living in her dark brown gaze was enough to drag a tiny bit of humanness from my cold soul.

Watching her being tasted—I wouldn’t deny—it fucked me off. She was my plaything. Mine to torment.

I was pissed at my father for permitting the entire brotherhood to use her. They weren’t deserving of drinking someone’s misery. That right was a Hawk’s and only a fucking Hawk’s. Excluding my younger cock of a brother.

He deserved shit.

Grinding my teeth, I placed my palm against her sternum, pressing her breakable chest. Her heart beat like a war drum beneath my fingers.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t fight as I pushed her backward.

I didn’t say a word—controlling her by sheer anger and will.

Her defined stomach muscles clenched as she fought the pressure, then gave in, sprawling backward onto the table. A small sound of pain came from her lips, catching her weight on her elbows.

She refused to lie down.

She would.

My cock fucking bruised itself, punching my belt time and time again. Only I knew how she tasted when she wanted to be tasted. Only I knew how she sounded when she wanted it so fucking bad. And only I knew how tight she was.

That tightness belonged to me.

I doubted I’d fit. I doubted I’d get half my dick inside her, but until I’d had the pleasure of trying, no one else was permitted near her. I had the scroll giving me power over everyone on that subject—including my father.

I swallowed hard. The anger watching my brother stick his fucking tongue inside her boiled. I teetered on a dangerous edge.

Pull back.

I couldn’t.

I wanted what I wanted, and I’d take what was owed to me.

“You finally understand,” I whispered. My voice was thicker, deeper, overrun with the dark lust that’d been created after her whorish displays this morning. She’d done this to me. It was her curse to fix me.

I couldn’t look at her without feeling her thrust against my finger. I couldn’t see past the challenge. The building strength in her skinny frame. She was learning.

I was learning.

We were learning how to play this game together.

She shivered as I dragged my hand down her front, moving lower and lower. My cock ached for the wet temptation belonging to me. I was responsible for her.

She’d been through a lot. She’d obeyed even though she’d fought. She’d kept it together but now she was precariously close to losing it. I wasn’t so heartless to ignore that craving in her eyes. The borderline insanity of needing a release. Combined with finally seeing proof that we were the good guys? Well, I owed her.

Just a little.

It was my job to take her to the edge, dangle her for a time, but then draw her back into safety. My purpose was to bridle everything she was, so she would do anything I asked.

Glaring into her eyes, I said, “You are mine. I am not your master or owner or boss. I am the man who controls your entire existence until you pay off your family’s debts. You don’t breathe unless I permit it. You don’t move unless I request it. You live a simple life now. One with a single word you need remember…yes.”

My touch skated from her belly to her hips.

She stiffened to a plank. Her gaze left mine, locking on the ornate ceiling.

“Look at me.” My voice turned harsh, barbaric beneath its cultured refinement. “Has it sunk in yet? That I can do anything I want to you?”

She didn’t respond—just like she’d been told not to. Silence. Blissful, blessed silence. She couldn’t admonish or argue. She was pliant. Wondrously pliant.

She deserves a reward.

I tried to hold back.

I didn’t want an audience.

But fuck it.

Shoving her higher on the table, I slapped away her position on her elbows, crashing her spine onto the wood. She cried out, then sucked in a harsh breath.

I grabbed her legs, forcing them wide.

Her pink flesh invited me, glistening, not from other men’s tongues, but arousal. Arousal for me. Arousal that I intended to take advantage of.

Grabbing an untouched glass of water from a Diamond brother, I dumped the liquid all over Nila’s pussy.

She cried out; legs trying to scissor. But I didn’t let her move.

The water trickled through her dark hair, pooling beneath her. It wasn’t enough, but it washed at least some of the men’s spit away.

I only wanted to taste her.

Hooking my hands beneath her hips, I held her tight.

“No. Don’t—”

Too fucking late.

With a fleeting smile, I captured her swollen cunt in my mouth.

The moment my tongue shot out, pressing firm and hard, she arched off the table.

“Ah!” Her mouth hung wide, her neck straining as every muscle shot into stark relief. Her black hair fanned out on the table, sliding against her shoulders as she writhed on the wood.

Snapping my fingers, I glared at two Diamond brothers. They leapt to attention, grabbing her wrists and holding her down.

She squirmed. She fought. But my fingers only bit harder into her arse, keeping her pinned wide and open.

My fucking brother didn’t have the right to tongue-fuck her.

But I did.

I hadn’t planned on giving her such a reward, but…it wasn’t just her getting off on this.

The power. The submission. Her taste. Her damn fucking taste.

I showed too much. I let go of my tight restraint and drank.

She groaned as I shifted a hand, holding her hipbone hard on the table. Then she whimpered. My tongue became my weapon of choice as I licked downward. No hesitation. No teasing.

I was there for one goal.

Her goal.

My eyes rolled back as I plunged my tongue inside her tight hot warmth.

Fuck me.

“God!” Her hips tried to run from my invasion. Her mouth opened wide; her ribcage visible as her lungs strained to breathe.

I set a pace no one would be able to ignore.

I fucked her. There was no other word for how I drove my tongue in and out, fast and possessive. The muscles in her belly clenched. She panted, she moaned, then she screamed.

She gave up the fight, giving into me.

A spasm of pre-cum dampened my jeans as her hips shot upward, her clit brushing against my nose.

Her body twisted, trying to get her hands free, but the brothers wouldn’t let her go.

She turned wild. Seeking. Demanding. The same sexual creature from the stables.

I couldn’t breathe without dragging her scent into my lungs. I couldn’t swallow without drinking her. And I couldn’t fucking think without wanting to tear off my jeans and plunge deep inside her.

My tongue worked faster, the tips of my teeth gracing her pussy lips as I drove deeper than I’d ever gone before.

I ate her. I fucked her. I owned her.

Her tight pussy squeezed my tongue, begging for more.

I’ll give you more.

I’d given her too much already.

Fuck.

Her legs suddenly latched around my ears, grinding herself onto my face.

She moaned hard; a breathless beg on her lips. I couldn’t stop myself.

My tongue drove harder; my head bobbed faster.

She unravelled.

She combusted.

She screamed as she came on my tongue.

OH, MY GOD.

Oh, my God.

It didn’t. It couldn’t. He didn’t. I couldn’t.

What the hell did I just do?

Jethro stood straight, breathing hard. His eyes were tight; his mouth drenched and red.

My cheeks flamed, heart racing like I’d run ten kilometres.

What was that?

What magic did he possess that made me throw away self-consciousness, decorum, and hatred? How could I squirm that way? Sound that way? Come that way?

I came.

He made me come.

My captor shot me free for one blissful second, granting me something no one else had. The sparks and waves and mind-twisting delicious clenching. I wanted more. I wanted it now.

Jethro wiped his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide the lust glowing in his eyes. He’d given, not taken. He’d done what he said.

I’ll wipe it all away.

The only thing I could focus on was him. The room of men didn’t matter. Their tongues and touches and pleasantly whispered thank yous were gone. Burned to a crisp thanks to the nuclear explosion he’d set off. I was no longer at the mercy of the room. I owned the room.

Then everything came crashing back.

My first orgasm was given by a man whose father killed my mother.

My privacy had been completely stripped by the man who’d stolen me from my family.

He’d made me sleep with dogs.

He played with my head.

He didn’t give a damn about me.

Why was he so clever? So perfectly designed for this game?

I struggled to sit up. The two men holding my wrists let me go, and I shot into a sitting position, wrapping arms around my torso.

The hot sparkly burst that made everything so inconsequential faded with every rapid heartbeat. It was like being in the eye of the storm. Jethro granted me silence. He’d shared his heavenly silence and quieted my mind from everything I was feeling.

But now the storm gathered strength, howling, twisting, sucking me back up the funnel of horrors.

Eyes.

So many eyes upon me. Paintings and real. Men who’d seen me naked. Men who’d licked every inch. Men who didn’t care if I lived or died.

You let him control you.

You let your body rule your mind.

You let yourself down.

Crushing grief swamped me. I couldn’t be there another moment. I couldn’t sit there with residual sparks shivering in my core. I couldn’t pretend that everything was acceptable.

Jethro smirked, his breathing calmed as he dragged large hands through his hair. My heart broke into shards. How could he give me something so incredible all while hating me? His mercurial moods, his unreadable face—it confused me. Even worse, it upset me.

Visceral repulsion and horror howled through me as the storm grew in strength. My lungs seized as I flew up the dark wall of wind.

The compliant prisoner disappeared under a tsunami of rage. This wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. This is not okay!

Balling my hands, I scooted off the table. Keeping my distance from Jethro, I bared my teeth at him—the first male to drive me up a mountain I’d never leapt off before.

Him.

He’d had no right to make me come. To give me a gift not out of kindness but control. He’d proven a valuable lesson. He could make me do anything he wanted, and there was nothing I could do about it.

His eyebrow quirked; chin tilted with arrogance. He didn’t say a word, moving to lean against the door with his hands jammed in his pockets. He gave nothing away. No hint at how he felt watching other men use me. No clue as to what he was thinking when he made me come.

I was his to repay this horrible ludicrous debt. But he didn’t seem to care.

And that was what broke my heart.

He didn’t give an arse about what happened to me. Everything I’d hoped—the secret plan to make him care or at least tolerate my company—was smashed to dust. There was no pleasing a rock like him. No appealing to his compassion.

He has none.

Tearing my eyes from his, I glowered at the table. Standing tall, I embraced my nakedness. I throbbed with righteousness. I trembled with indecency.

I hated what I wore. It covered nothing and was theirs. I wanted nothing to do with them. I wanted to refuse their food, spit out their water, and burn their clothes. Not that they’d offered me any.

With suddenly steady hands, I tore the French maid’s cap off my head. I threw it down the table. The satin wood let it slide all the way to the centre where it rested like a stain, a sin—a simple innocuous thing screaming of wrongness.

The men didn’t move.

Fumbling at the ties around my neck, I pulled the hated pinafore over my head and balled it up. Standing proud, naked—showing off my bruises from vertigo and tongue smears from bastards—I spoke. “Look at you. Look at how masculine and powerful you are.” Pointing my finger around the table, I growled, “Look at how scary and dominating and strong you are. Look at how proud you must be. You proved you’re invincible by taking advantage of a woman brought here against her will. You used a girl who has to live her worst nightmares to protect those she loves.”

Stabbing myself in the chest, I whispered, “Wait…I got it wrong. You’re not the strong ones. I am. You’re weak and disgusting. By doing what you did, you gave me more power than I’ve ever had before. You gave me a new skill—a skill at ignoring you because you’re nothing. Nothing. Nothing!”

“And you!” I swung my arm, gaze zeroing in on Jethro. The one man who held my life in the palm of his hand. He was nothing. Just like his brethren of bastards.

Jethro stood taller, a shadow darkening his face. His hands came out of his pockets, crossing in front of his large chest.

“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.

The moment the doors slammed behind us, Jethro grabbed my elbow, prowling forward as if the flames of hell craved his soul. I went from walking to jogging to keep up with his pace.

My vision lost its clarity for a moment, fading in and out as another wash of unbalance tried to steal me, but Jethro didn’t give me time to give in. He didn’t give me time to care that he dragged me down a corridor so wide it could’ve been a hall. He didn’t let me inspect the countless weapons—swords, bayonets, crossbows, and knives—or catch the eye of surprised staff.

I breathed hard when we finally crashed through one of the many exterior doors and were welcomed from brooding red corridor to bright early-autumn sun.

Jethro kept walking, not letting me catch my breath.

Dragging me down the four huge steps, I winced as the gravel bit into the soles of my feet. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.

Our feet kicked up pebbles as he headed toward the treeline several metres from the house. I’d never seen this side of the property before. But the grounds were just as expansive and impressive as the other perimeters and just as dangerous.

This was my cage. Leaves and thorns and brambles.

And I’m naked.

The moment gravel was replaced by soft grass below my toes, Jethro tossed me away. I would’ve fallen if I wasn’t malleable and given up fighting his momentum. I stumbled forward, arms soaring outward as if I could suddenly leave the world behind and fly. Fly away. Fly free.

The moment I came to a halt, I spun to face him.

Jethro was right behind me. He fisted my hair, twisting my neck.

I whimpered as he raised my head, higher and higher. My eyes coasted over his crocodile belt, crisp grey shirt, and locked onto a pair of ferocious eyes.

“Tell me. What did you hope to achieve in there?”

He didn’t give me a chance to reply, tugging my hair in a painful jerk. “Did you honestly think before you opened your mouth? If you had stood there and been silent, it would’ve all been over. You earned an afternoon on your own in a hot steam bath. A maid to bring you whatever you wanted to eat.” He shook me. “What part of a gift for good behaviour did you not understand?”

“I don’t want your charity,” I spat.

He groaned. “It’s not fucking charity if you’ve earned it.” Lowering his head, his nose pressed against mine.

I froze, breathing hard.

“You earned it today. You pleased me by letting those men sample you. You surprised me in a good way.” The softness of his voice disappeared under a torrent of rage. “But then you fucked it all up by being you. And now…” He trailed off, ideas glowing in his eyes.

Letting me go, I backed away from him, grabbing my hair and quickly twisting it into a loose braid down my back. I hated the thickness, the length. It seemed to invite Jethro to use it anyway he pleased. My scalp had never been so bruised.

The diamond collar sent little rainbows of light bouncing from the sunlight. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t so tense. I was naked but wearing rainbows—I never would’ve thought to combine magic with fashion.

Ideas for a new design line came thick and fast. I craved a pencil to sketch before they disappeared.

Jethro placed both hands on his hips, watching me silently.

I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. The fragile ceasefire between us stretched uncomfortably thin. It would either snap and ricochet onto me with terrible pain or fade away like a feather on a breeze.

“I see threats don’t work on you. But perhaps a negotiation might.”

Despite myself, curiosity and hope swelled in my heart. “A negotiation?”

“A one shot offer. You win, you’re free. I win, you forget about your old life and give in. You say I’ll never own you. If I win—you willingly give me that right.” His lips pulled into a cold smile. “You sign not only the debt agreement but another—one that makes me your master until your last breath is taken. You do that, and I’ll give you this.”

“Give me what?” I asked breathlessly.

“A chance at freedom.”

My eyes popped wide.

What?

Cocking his head at the forest behind me, he murmured, “You wanted to be free—so go. Run. Go seek your freedom.”

I twisted on the spot, looking over my shoulder. The sun dappled patches of leaf-strewn ground, looking like a fairy glen, but then it grew darker and thicker and scarier.

The diamond collar rested heavy and ruinously ominous on my throat. My spine ached from the short time I’d been made to wear it; the coldness still hadn’t adapted to my skin. How could I run with such a deterrent?

How can you not?

It was the one chance I’d hoped for. The one chance I didn’t think I’d get.

Squeezing my eyes, I let Jethro's ultimatum—his negotiation—seep into my brain. If I ran, I might make it. If I ran, I might get what I wanted. But if I lost…

Turning to face him again, the golden-light from the sun cast him with ghostly silhouette, blurring his outline, creating more than just a man. He looked as if he had one foot in this world and one in hell. A fallen angel who still burned with fire—yet it wasn’t purity he burned with but hate.

Jethro raised an eyebrow. “What’s it going to be?”

“I don’t know what you’re offering.”

“Yes you do.”

I did. I do.

Taking a small step toward me, he said, “You want to break the contract? You want to keep your brother and father safe? Fine. I’m giving you a one-time deal. Run. If you make it to the boundary, you’re free. Your family will never be hunted by the Hawks again. You make it, and this is all over. Every last debt and ounce of history—disappears.” His voice licked through the sunshine.

A small sparkle from my earlier orgasm rippled between my legs. “And if I don’t?”

Jethro frowned. “Pardon?”

“If I don’t run…what happens then?”

“You wouldn’t run? After I just offered you what you’ve wanted all along?”

I crossed my wrists over the junction of my thighs, hiding my pussy. “I didn’t say I wanted the chance to run naked through a thousand hectares. I said I wanted this to be over.”

Jethro smirked. “It’s not over until it’s over.” His eyes fell to my collar, glinting with darkness. “And we both know how it will be over.”

Moving closer, he said quietly, “There is no other option here, Ms. Weaver. I’m not giving you the choice to run. I’m telling you to run. You wanted it. You got it. One chance to save your family as well as your own life. One chance. You do not want to fuck it up by testing my patience.”

My mind stumbled with everything that’d happened. There was no denying chemistry flew between us—but Jethro didn’t respond. He was only interested in the chase. The hunt. The sport.

He stood so close, every time he breathed, his chest almost touched my naked nipples. He didn’t seem to care I was naked or offer clothing for this one and only chance I had at freedom. He would make me run unprotected through a forest full of brambles, predators, and trip-worthy roots.

His arm raised and I clamped every muscle from cringing as he cupped my cheek. His heady scent of woods and leather settled over me. Tracing the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, he bowed his head. “Run, Ms. Weaver. Run. But one thing you should know before you go.”

Do not play his games. Do not rise to the bait.

My lips stayed pinched together. I stiffened in his hold.

His mouth tickled the soft skin below my ear. “While you’re running, I’ll be hunting. You not only have to get to the boundary but you have to do it before I catch you.”

The tingle and horrible promise of hope evaporated. Cruel. Vicious. Evil.

I’m to be hunted.

There wouldn’t be freedom. There would only be blood. Just like he said in the dining room.

Energy left my limbs. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t eaten since I was stolen. I’d barely had a decent sleep. I existed like a junkie on adrenaline and fear. It was no combination for a long distance run through thickets and bush.

Jethro pulled away, dropping his hands. He smiled. “Your head start begins now, Ms. Weaver. I’d leave if I were you.”

Now?

I backpeddled, heart bursting with terror. “How—how long do I have?”

Jethro carefully raised his cuff, looking sedately at the diamond and black watch on his wrist. “I’m a seasoned hunter. I have no doubt I’ll find you. And when I do…what those men did to you will be nothing.” Cocking his head, he said, “I think forty-five minutes is rather sporting, don’t you?”

My mind was no longer there. It was leaping and flying over leaves and dodging ancient trunks. Run. Go. Run.

“Make it and you’re no longer mine….”

Freedom taunted me, making me believe I had a chance. A slim, barely non-existent chance—but still a chance. The muscles in my legs reacted, already poised to take off. I had to trust my body. It knew how to flee.

I could make it. If I did, I would no longer be his pet to torture. But if I didn’t….

Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

“And if I don’t?”

Jethro lowered his head, glaring at me beneath his brow. His eyes were tight and dark, glinting with excitement at the upcoming hunt. “Don’t and the debt I’ll make you repay will make you wish you had made it to the boundary.” He stepped from the sun’s glare, his teeth sparkling like diamonds. “Now…run.”

…

…

I ran.