First Debt (Indebted #2)(16)

The text.

It was never a wrong number.

My hands fisted around my phone. Could I have been manipulated?

Angry tears shot up my spine. All my life, everyone I’d ever known had manipulated me behind the scenes, moving me around at their whim, tugging my skirts until I stood in the right place, while I smiled stupidly and so damn na?ve.

I wanted to scream.

You’re making something out of nothing.

It could very well be a wrong number and nothing sinister at all.

My anger was too hot—I couldn’t reason with myself.

Kite007: Fuck, that sounds hot. Did you come?

I stared at the message with fire burning in my soul. I wanted to confront him. I needed to know the truth.

Needle&Thread: Did you come after you licked me yesterday? Did you jerk off to the thought of me being tormented by your family, you sick bastard?

My finger hovered on the send key, my breathing harsh in the silent room.

If I asked and I was right—what then? Where did that leave me? Was it better to play them at their own rules? Hide my tentative conclusion and finally learn how to play this secretive, devious game?

I deleted the message.

Needle&Thread: No, but I made you come. You shot your release so deep down my throat, I can still taste you.

I grinned, feeling a little psychotic.

If Kite was an innocent party in all of this, then he could continue to be my escape. Meanwhile, Jethro would give me answers that I hadn’t had before. Such as granting me knowledge to Kite’s previous question. What do I taste like?

If he tasted anything like Jethro, it was an overpowering mix of no taste at all and too much taste all at once. An oyster mixed with caviar infused with the strongest shot of vodka. Not entirely pleasant, but not disgusting either.

I had experience now. Experience garnered by blowing a man who may or may not be related to my tormentor.

You might have it totally wrong. You’re jumping to conclusions.

I paused, fingers stroking the screen. It was entirely possible I was clutching at straws, looking for connections to make sense of this catastrophe. But I couldn’t ignore the tug inside—the sixth sense burning stronger with every second.

My lips twisted at how disgusting all of this was. How the unsaid lies made me endlessly suspicious.

Kite007: Fuck, do you hear yourself? Something’s changed. Again. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but spill. I need to know how you’ve gone from shy little nun to confident tease.

He wanted to know. As if he didn’t know. As if the entire Hawk family weren’t laughing behind my back.

You don’t know it’s him!

I knew I should calm down, seek out clues, and formulate the truth before tearing into the most-likely innocent Kite. But after being through a transformation from meek to fierce, I couldn’t bottle myself up. I refused to corset my emotions any longer.

I would take back control message by message.

Needle&Thread: You want to know? You want to hear personal details of my life? What happened to you, Kite? Someone drop you on your head?

Kite007: Careful. I’m one push away from deletion and walking away from this. You’re the one who begged me to stay in contact. Remember?

Needle&Thread: You have a short temper.

Kind of like someone else I know.

Kite007: Want me to stay a f*cking arsehole? Got it. Don’t ever say I never tried to help you.

My heart lurched.

If he was Kestrel, then he might be my only ally. I couldn’t afford to piss him off—not while I lived in a nest of reptiles. If I could befriend him—make him care—he might be my ticket to freedom.

What better way for a Weaver to escape than for a Hawk to open her cage?

Back in the dining room, Kes had been the only one who’d looked at me with…compassion. He’d seen my struggle, and even though he’d treated me the same as all the rest, he’d been chivalrous in a strange, f*cked-up way. Unlike his brother, who’d made me come—stripped me of my rights and privacy and given me a gift I’d never been given before.

Bloody Jethro.

Needle&Thread: I’m sorry. I’ve been through a rather big change in the past few days. My temper is a little short.

Kite007: I’ve noticed. So…you going to tell me how you found a pair of balls?

Needle&Thread: No, I don’t think so. You wanted no personal details…remember?

I sat biting my lip, my fingers poised to cast my first web. How could I phrase a question to make him give away his identity: do you live in the country? Do you ride motorbikes? Did you happen to taste a woman yesterday along with twenty of your gang brothers?

Kite007: Shoot me down, then. See if I f*cking care. Enough talking. Let’s get back to a subject we both enjoy. Touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are at the thought of me spanking you. Because you deserve a spanking. A f*cking hard one.

Needle&Thread: I don’t believe I’ve been anything but good. I don’t deserve anything of the sort, seeing as you whipped me last night.

Kite007: What’s with the whip fantasy? Why not my hand? I want to feel your skin burn while I punish you. I want equal pain in my palm as you scream and beg for my cock.

I stopped.

My heart switched from burning to frozen. What sort of response was that? Equal pain? Shared pain? Was that what pleasure-pain was all about? Equal measure of obedience and trust?