Final Debt (Indebted #6)(21)

I swallowed hard.

The terrible tragedy of what’d befallen his relative helped fortify my resolve.

I leaned away from his touch. “No, you don’t have to. I remember.”

Jethro…

God, I wished he was here.

Kestrel…

He’d saved me last time. He’d remained true and honest and so damn selfless—I’d wanted him in that moment.

I wanted him now.

The drugs made me want anyone as long as I earned pleasure and an end to the incessant drive for a release.

I balled my hands. “Whatever you gave me—I won’t give in to it.”

My eyes glazed as Cut grabbed his cock. “You sure about that?”

Animalistic primal urges overrode my humanity. I was sick. Sick, sick, sick to want this murderer. The man who’d slaughtered my mother. The man who killed my lover and his brother—his very sons.

No!

A wash of clarity helped me stand firm. “Get out! Get out. I won’t enjoy this. I won’t. No matter what you do, I won’t welcome this. You want me to give myself willingly? You want me to love you like I love your son? But I won’t. I never will. You’re a twisted bastard who deserves nothing more than death!”

Silence smothered us as my outburst hung loudly in the tent.

Daniel ran his hand over his face, chuckling. “Oh, f*ck, Weaver. Now, you’ve done it.”

Cut didn’t say a word, but the loose enjoyment on his face tightened with rage. Lashing out, he grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. “Love my son? I think you meant to say loved, my dear. He’s dead.”

Shit!

I forced desolation into my gaze, burying the truth deep inside.

Cut’s gaze probed mine, searching for my lies. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that. Stronger than your mother. Do you want to know how she begged me to f*ck her? Want to know how wild she was? How she confessed she loved me and would die happily after the night we had together?”

Lies. All lies.

My heart formed a callus, a scar, thickening against his taunts. “I don’t believe you.” The diamonds on my throat pressed heavily on my larynx as Cut yanked me harder.

“You think you’ll fight us, but you won’t. The minute I lay a finger on that wet * of yours, you’ll be screaming for more.” Letting me go, I stumbled backward.

Cut prowled to a small table where a decanter of cognac had been delivered. His white shirt clung to his lanky body, almost translucent with sweat from the ceremony. His skin glimmered with dampness and his eyes glowed with sickness as he turned with a poured shot in his hand.

If only he was sick. If only he caught a disease and died.

He raised the goblet in a toast. “To the Third Debt, Nila.” Throwing back a large mouthful and tossing away the glass, he came forward. Reaching into his pocket, Cut pulled out a one pound coin. “Heads or tails, Dan.”

My heart ran wild.

My breasts tingled.

Arousal battered at my hatred, urging me to bow to the false euphoria. I wouldn’t be subdued or seduced by trickery. I would stand and fight.

I will kill you, Cut Hawk. I will kill you!

Daniel rubbed his nape. “Ah, shit. Um…heads. Gimme the queen.”

Cut flicked the coin into the air. Catching it on its downward sweep, he slapped it on the back of his hand and revealed it. His lips pulled back. “Fuck.”

Daniel punched the sky. “Fuck, yes.” Darting forward, he lassoed an arm around my waist. “I guess that means you and I get the first round, Nila.” Possession leaked through his pores.

No!

A bone-deep sob tried to claw free.

Pointing at the tent flap, Daniel growled, “Come back when the screaming stops, Pop. I’ll make sure to leave her alive for you.”

Everything inside me withered like a flower in autumn, dying, dying, dead.

Cut ran a hand over his face. “Motherf*cker.” His golden eyes turned dark, but he snarled reluctantly. “Fine.” Storming toward the door, he looked back one last time. “See you in a little while, Nila. Remember what I said—the minute I touch you, you’ll be on your knees begging me to f*ck you. Don’t let Daniel steal everything. Save some of your strength for me.”

And then, he was gone.

Leaving me alone with an insane Hawk who deserved to be torn apart and devoured by wolves.

Stay strong. You can do this.

My lungs ceased to work. I wanted the earth to open up and consume me.

“Ready for some fun, Weaver Whore?”

I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at him.

Daniel came closer, capturing my chin, raising my eyes to his. I hated that his touch felt good. That my body craved more. That whatever drugs in my system chipped away my strength, my panic…just waiting for weakness to consume me.

“Don’t touch me.” I tried to remove my face from his grip, but he only pinched me harder.

“Ah, don’t be shy. Now isn’t the time to be shy. Not when I finally get to see what made my brother such a f*cking idiot over you.” Trailing his hand down my cleavage, he muttered, “Don’t like your small tits. Perhaps it was your * that drugged him, huh?” Pushing me backward, he laughed. “Let’s find out. Shall we?”

I screeched as he shoved me toward the bed.