First Debt (Indebted #2)(37)

I knew I had to stay on my guard after what Cut had said: I’m to be treated with kindness and compassion. I could easily fall into the trap of thinking their concern was genuine. But…if Kes was Kite, we had a connection that went past family obligations.

Don’t we?

Regardless, we’d spent a couple of hours sharing things that’d transported me away from Hawksridge Hall and to a place filled with softness. A connection formed, dusting my tummy with tentative bubbles of attraction.

He was nice…despite my healthy suspicion of his motives.

But one thing niggled me.

One thing I hadn’t been able to figure out.

He was completely different from the man who cursed and acted so crude via text messages. His arrogant way of demanding sexual gratification when not face-to-face was a direct contradiction to his kindness in person.

It didn’t make sense—almost as if he had split personas—once again proving my theory that all Hawks were daft.

“What did my father tell you?” Jethro asked.

I blinked, forcing myself to pay attention to the mad man currently circling me like a vulture. “What?”

Jethro balled his hands. “When he kept you back, what did he say?”

I shrugged. “Same thing as you. I learned nothing new.” The way he watched me hinted that he had secrets he didn’t want spilled. Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “Why?”

He shook his head. “No reason.” Clearing his throat, he added, “So, you were told you’re now the obedient family dog, correct? To be treated kindly and receive everything you want.”

My heart squeezed. Anger flowed thick and cloying. “Something like that.” And just like a mistreated pet, I’ll shred the fingers that feed me.

Jethro huffed, returning to the post again. With competent hands, he tugged on the hanging cuffs and kicked something covered by a towel at the foot of the wooden structure.

His eyes locked on mine. “Tell me, Ms. Weaver. Are you sure you’re ready?”

My heart bucked into panic mode. I’d taunted him and said I was, but now faced with willingly handing myself over and letting him do whatever he wanted, it was entirely different.

When I didn’t move, he murmured, “No tears. No screams. Own this just like my ancestors did when it was done to them.”

The Debt Inheritance came back to mind. What had my family done that was so heinous that it called for such horrendous payback?

Swallowing hard, I inched closer to the post. “I need to understand why.”

“Why?” His forehead furrowed. “Where exactly is the fun in that?”

“Fun?” Oh, my God, he would enjoy this? What did you expect? I supposed I kept seeing the man who was human beneath the icy robot. It led me to false conclusions, which Jethro seemed to love to smash.

“I suppose that is the wrong word.” Jethro stilled, his eyes filling with things I couldn’t decipher. He stood still for a long moment, before visibly shaking off whatever held him hostage. “Come here. Let’s begin.”

My stomach fell into my toes. Making me come on my own made all of this worse. I was the sacrificial lamb willingly walking toward the pyre.

Goosebumps broke out over my body as my feet whispered slowly toward Jethro.

He sucked in a breath.

The air went from humid to sharp with awareness. I hated that he had the power to tingle my skin and twist my belly. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that I found him so attractive when I ought to be abhorred.

My eyes fell on the cuffs dangling between fake flowers. I didn’t need to ask what he had planned. It was obvious, and I wouldn’t give him the enjoyment of dragging out the suspense and toying with me.

Gritting my jaw, I pressed closer, holding my wrists up to the leather cuffs.

Jethro quirked an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “What are you doing?”

Gathering as much courage as I had, and hoping to God my vertigo would stay away, I smiled diabeticly sweet. “The cuffs are obviously there for a reason; I’m just saving you the trouble of instructing me.”

Silence fell, rippling around us.

His jaw worked. “Just like smugness, cockiness is not becoming on you, Ms. Weaver.” Leaning forward, his torso turned the already sharp awareness into biting attraction. His scent of woods and leather enveloped me. Against my wishes, my stomach clenched, and I breathed deeply.

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t say another word as his strong, cold fingers latched around my wrist, tugging it higher to wrap the supple cuff around me.

The chemistry between us—or was it just blind hate—crackled and fizzed, sending the hair on the back of my neck bristling.

I couldn’t deny I was drawn to Kes—partly because I thought he was Kite and partly because he had an ease about him, a generosity that made me want to know more—but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the fierce hunger I felt when Jethro touched me.

His lips parted as he buckled the cuff. Refusing to make eye contact, he remained focused as he cinched it tight.

Moving stiffly, he captured my other wrist.

A small gasp fell from my lips as his fingers kissed the paper-thin skin. His eyes held me hostage. The golden brown was now a swirling bronze, raging with the same demanding hunger I knew reflected in mine.

“This sort of reminds me of the forest,” I whispered. “The trees around us—no one else.” My words fell like petals, waiting for Jethro to crush them beneath his glossy shoe.