First Debt (Indebted #2)(78)

Irreversible and responsible for me hurting Kes and ruining any chance of having another Hawk on my side.

Goosebumps scattered along my arms at the thought of bumping into him and the awkwardness that would follow.

I might’ve lost Kestrel, but I’d somehow chipped into Jethro’s arctic shell. No matter what Cut or the debts did to me, no one would be able to ruin what I’d found with one of their own.

I had no clue what it all meant, but Jethro Hawk was no longer Cut’s little plaything. He was mine. And despite the guilt I felt at potentially using Jethro to save my life, I knew I would do it. Eventually, I hoped to bring Jethro deeper into my spell. I would make him protect me. I would somehow survive this Debt Disaster.

We’d started as enemies and still were, but now…now we were enemies with a common goal. A driving need to f*ck and devour.

A strange combination of delivering pain and pleasure.

It wasn’t ideal. It probably wasn’t healthy.

But it was the best damn relationship I’d ever had.

Deciding to make my way to the kitchens, rather than have staff wait on me, I entered the realm of baking and home, inhaling deep the delicious smells of rosemary and garlic.

One of the maids, who I recognised with curly blonde hair, looked up. Her pretty button nose and brown eyes were open and honest. “Hungry, miss?”

I nodded, drifting forward and running a fingertip through the dusting of flour on the countertop. Hawksridge Hall had been updated with every modern convenience imaginable but still managed to retain its heritage. The kitchen was no exception, with a brilliant blend of old world and new. Stainless countertops rested on rickety handmade cupboards. Ancient flues, stained black from coal smoke, loomed over top-of-the-line stovetops and ovens. The massive rotisserie was still used over a large open fire, and a huge black pot dangled on a tripod in the corner. Mortar and pestles lined the windowsill with herbs and flowers drying above.

The maid kindly wrapped up a fresh baguette with a dollop of fresh cream and strawberry jam, and shoved a packet of salt and vinegar crisps into my hand.

A random meal, but I took it with gratitude. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Don’t be outside too long today. A storm is coming, according to BBC. The fine weather is over.”

Is that a metaphor for my life? That my summer is past and now I have to survive the winter?

Nodding my assurances, I climbed the steps to the main part of the house and exited Hawksridge by the front door.

The maid was right. On the horizon rested heavy clouds, black and ominous. Regardless, I wanted to stretch my legs; fresh air never failed to bring clarity to my world.

And I needed clarity after Kite’s message. Every time I thought about it, my heart squeezed in regret.

My jewelled flip-flops, cut-off shorts, and turquoise t-shirt were hardly suitable clothing, especially as small raindrops splashed from above, but I refused to go back inside.

“Nila!” Kes appeared from the side of the house, his boots crunching on the gravel as he jogged closer.

Shit.

As much as I wanted to confront him, I had no clue what to say. Breathing shallowly, I hoped the faint bruises Jethro had left on my upper arms didn’t show.

Kes came to a stop, his eyes drifting over me. “Where are you going?”

I frowned, drinking in his face, seeking the hurt that had been in his message. His gaze was blank, locked against any cypher or clues.

How is he hiding what happened between us?

Unable to understand, I shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. Just getting some air.”

“Mind if I join you?”

I shrugged again. It was best to clear the air sooner rather than later. “Sure.”

Kes fell in step beside me, his gaze rising to the black clouds on the horizon. His silence was heavy, judging.

“Where were you going?” I asked. Were you running after me?

His golden eyes landed on mine. My stomach twisted, thinking how fiery Jethro’s had been last night as he pushed himself inside me.

“I was just going to the stables. There’s a polo match next week—wanted to make sure my horse is shipshape.” Kicking a pebble, he added, “Bloody Jet always wins at polo. This time, I’m going to kick his arse.” His voice was sharp, completely unlike his usual ease.

I wanted to bring up the message but had no idea how.

Instead, I took a bite of my baguette. Once I swallowed, I mumbled, “I’ve never watched a polo game. Do you think I’ll be allowed to come?”

Please tell me I haven’t ruined our friendship. That you’ll let me hang out with you still.

If I didn’t have Kes’s company, I would go bonkers when Jethro disappeared.

God, I was selfish.

Selfish and greedy to try and keep both men, while using them for my gain.

Kes grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. All the staff are given the afternoon off to come and watch.” He joked, “Even prisoners are allowed to go.”

Before Jethro had shown any signs of caring for me, that would’ve stabbed me in the heart and fortified my need to run.

Now…it only gave me courage to continue with my plan. And gave me strength to ignore the hurt I felt at pushing Kes away.

Yes, I enjoyed sleeping with Jethro. Yes, I could even admit to developing confusing emotions toward him. But my end game was the same.