Please, don’t do this.
His eyes narrowed, glinting with anger. His family watched our every move.
That was it, then. There was no way out. He was resigned to this. And so must I.
Dropping my head, letting a curtain of ebony hair block me from this world, I nodded.
“You need to say it,” he muttered. “Say it out loud. Admit that you deserve this.”
Closing my eyes, I died a little inside. Forcing myself to raise my hand, I presented myself to him.
Jethro stole my wrist; his cold touch seeped like permafrost into my already freezing body.
With a tug, he stole me from the pentagram and dragged me toward the chair. “You still haven’t said it, Ms. Weaver.”
My panic had become physical, slapping a gag over my mouth. I struggled with the word. One simple little word.
Stepping toward the chair, I whispered, “Yes. Yes, I admit I deserve this.”
Jethro made a mangled noise in his chest.
I closed my eyes.
It was done.
TYING HER DOWN was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve done.
Not because my family were watching and I had no way of fucking up the debt.
And not because my heart dripped with icicles and frost.
And not even because I was so fucking close to snapping and showing everything that I was.
But because I’d promised myself the next time I restrained her, I would be granting her pleasure not pain.
I’d wanted her to writhe beneath my tongue while she was bound. I wanted to taste her as she came apart while suspended. And I wanted her delicious moans to fill my ears while she was trapped.
I wanted her to give in to me. To trust me. To give me every single pleasure she could feel.
When I’d fucked her in her quarters that second time, I’d made a vow to take her completely. To take her my way…all the way.
That meant getting inside her head, her heart, her mind. I wasn’t satisfied with owning her body. It didn’t give me what I craved. Only her complete submission and immeasurable love could do that.
I would’ve taken days. Days to extract everything she had to give me. The word ‘torture’ came from the origins to twist. I would’ve twisted Nila’s emotions so she’d carry me forever in her heart. I would’ve made a home inside her so I could be finally fucking free.
She could give me a cure no one else could grant. She could switch every pain I had into something…more.
I wanted more.
I wanted everything.
And now, I would have nothing.
Now, she would forever associate being tied up as something to be avoided, especially by me.
Her rapid breath fluttered over my face as I bent over her and pressed her forearm against the armrest.
The white shift didn’t hide the ghost of her lingerie, nor the peaking of her nipples. Her skin was cold, her lips growing bluer by the minute.
She hadn’t even been in the lake and already she looked hypothermic.
She’s as cold as me.
The leather slipped a few times from my grip as I fumbled to feed the buckle. Luckily, my back blocked my motions from my father—otherwise he would see my frost was thawing. He would see the haunting in my eyes of being so close to this woman while she hated me.
Nila was the culprit—my undoing.
She melted me.
She was the fucking sun. And I was about to splash out her heat.
Once her wrists were shackled, I ducked to attend to her ankles. Her legs jostled as her shaking grew worse. Her teeth chittered and chattered, her hair sticking to the cold sweat dotting her brow.
I hesitated a moment too long. Reaching out, I wrapped my fingers around her leg, preparing to fasten the cuff.
She gasped, dragging my eyes to her.
Fuck.
It was a terrible mistake to look at her.
She looked so small. So easily broken. Her eyes were too wide for her face; her skin stretched over bones that might shatter if she became any colder.
I tried to look away.
I tried.
But I couldn’t.
Our gazes locked; I groaned under my breath as the connection between us only strengthened. The diamond collar around her neck sparkled even as the clouds above us blotted out the sunshine and gathered dark grey.
Nila stopped shivering, almost as if she found sanctuary in my gaze.
I stopped fighting, almost as if she tamed the insanity inside me.
What was this…this tether? How had she captured me so completely, and how the fuck did I sever it?
The deeper I fell into her, the worst it got.
Her panic siphoned into my soul, twisting my gut until I wanted to vomit. Her flesh turned white as the moon and just as ethereal.
In the starkness of what was about to happen, she’d never been so beautiful, so bewitching, so intense.
My knees wobbled, itching to kneel before her and place my head in her lap. To just rest…and pretend none of this existed. To have her comfort me.
Cut growled under his breath, smashing through our moment, rendering it dead.
Nila sniffed, tears glossing her eyes.
The link between us had been so bright, but now it was back to darkness.
You’re running out of time.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to work faster. My fingers moved swiftly, securing the buckle around her left ankle.
I looked up one last time. Needing her to know that I’d come to her full of nothing, but now she’d filled me with everything.
She looked into my eyes, then glanced away.
I wanted to tell her I was sorry. I wanted her to see in my gaze what I could never say aloud.
Forgive me.
With a soft moan, she closed her eyes, cutting me off completely.
Her dismissal butchered my heart, dug it out with a dirty blade, and sent it splashing into the pond. The hole left behind filled with algae, water, and bracken. I was a fucking bastard. I should stop this.
But I won’t.
I wanted what I’d inherit on my thirtieth birthday. I was selfish, greedy, and vain. I wanted Nila, too. I believed I could have both.
If only I had more time.
You don’t have more time. Not today.
Securing her other ankle, I stood.
I waited for her to look at me—to give me some sign she understood that we were in this together. That despite what I did, the tattoos overrode my loyalty to my family and bound me to her.
My Weaver.
Her Hawk.
I waited another second, and another.
But she never opened her eyes. Her forehead furrowed harder, her fists curled tighter, and she withdrew from me until there was no emotion left—just a tiny dying star that once had shone so bright.
Leaving me heartless and bleeding, she gave me nothing else to do.
I slipped into my role as torturer and began.
PLEASE, GRANT ME strength.
Please, grant me power.
Please don’t let me scream.
Fettered to the chair, I kept my eyes squeezed as tight as possible—so tight—no light entered, no swirling colours from behind my eyelids. Just pitch black darkness.
When Jethro looked at me with agony in his gaze, I’d pitied him. He held so many secrets in his golden depths. So many rights. So many wrongs.
I could have a lifetime with him and never understand.
But in that moment, I did understand, and I both despised and bled for him. He was supposed to give me strength by making me hate him. I wanted to rue him as much as I did the day I found my ancestor’s graves. Hate would’ve kept me warm and alive.
But he’d stolen that by looking destroyed, crippled with conflicting loyalties.
It made me fall harder.
It made me slam to the bottom of my feelings for him.
I wanted to praise him for letting me into his heart. I wanted to tel
l him I had the capacity to love him in return.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
He didn’t deserve it.
And then, I found my hate again.
I hated him for being too weak and not going against his family.
I cursed him for not having the courage to choose.
Why should he choose me?
He barely even knew me.
But souls were wise things. They always knew before the brain or the heart. There was no discriminating—if you saw your perfect other…you knew—instantly.
There was something there from the beginning.
Just like there had been for us.
And it would remain there until Jethro successfully tore it out and killed it.
Because even though we were linked by this fragile, fluttering thing, it wouldn’t take much to ruin. It was already on the brink.
He’s sentenced me to pay the Second Debt.
How many more would he carry out?
Did I trust him to be strong enough to end this before my life was stolen?
Looking over my shoulder, his family glowered at me as if I’d killed their loved ones with a barely spoken curse. They watched with trepidation—as if they believed I’d descended from the witch they hated and would turn them to toads at any second.
Superstition perfumed the breeze. Hate bloomed from the roses. And impatience spiced the water lilies.
I missed the intimacy of the First Debt. I missed the throbbing chemistry between Jethro and me even while he did something so wrong. It had just been the two of us. Together.
Now, it was just me against them.
“Do you know what this is, Ms. Weaver?” Jethro asked, stealing my attention.
I pressed my lips together. My neck hurt from straining to look over my shoulder.
When I didn’t answer, Jethro recited, his voice silted and cool. “You’re sitting in a ducking stool. It was used traditionally as a torture method for women. Its free-moving arm swings over the river to extract truth and confessions by ducking into the freezing cold water.”
He looked away from me, pacing between the reeds. “The length of immersion was decided by the operator and the crime of which the woman was accused. It could last for just a few seconds, but in some circumstances, the process was continuously repeated over the course of a day.”
He faced me. “Do you know the crimes the ducking stool was used for?”
I didn’t answer. I refused.
I made an oath not to scream. I refused to entertain them with my cries.
Kes came forward, answering on behalf of Jethro. “Most common crimes were prostitution and witchcraft. Scolds were also punished by this method.” His lips tilted. “Know what a scold is, Nila?”
I couldn’t stop my head from shaking.
Shit, I didn’t mean to react.
Jethro’s eyes narrowed, his chest rising sharply.
“A scold was a gossiper, shrew, or bad tempered woman,” Kes said.
Jethro glared at his brother. “Even though I have experience with your temper, Ms. Weaver, I cannot say you are a scold.” Running a hand through his hair, he finished, “Regardless, this is to show you how death by water can be one of the most frightening things of all. This is how my ancestor died. This is how you will pay.”
Snapping his fingers, Jethro ordered, “Turn your head. Look away.”
Another avalanche of fear tumbled through me. I couldn’t do this!
“Turn around, girl!” Cut snapped.
I don’t know how I did it, but I slowly resettled on the hard wooden seat, and tore my eyes from Jethro. The pond before me twinkled like cold jewels—blue and green and black.
My heart grew bigger and bigger in my chest until it filled every inch. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t blink.
Noise came from behind me; I had to fight every instinct to look.
Trust in Kes. He said they wouldn’t drown me.
Suddenly, the chair swooped upward. It went from being glued in the mud to flying high over the earth. I gasped, smashing my lips together to contain my scream.
No. No, no, no.
My fingers had nothing to hold onto. My wrists kissed the wood, held in place by tight leather. My legs couldn’t move. I was well and truly caught.
The ducking stool wobbled as whatever force held me up readjusted to my weight. The breeze was stronger up here, whistling over the water like tiny mournful flutes.
The view would’ve been idyllic with the weeping willows and ducks preening on the banks. But I was caught in my worst nightmare.
I didn’t want to see anymore.
Squeezing my eyes, I wished I’d been blindfolded. I didn’t want to witness what was to come.
Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open them.
Someone’s hands brushed against my ankles. A mechanism was locked then another swoop higher and higher sent my stomach splattering to my toes.
I’d been in theme parks before—I’d ridden a rollercoaster once in my life. Once was more than enough, even though V adored the loop de loop. I didn’t understand his joy of making himself dizzy when I lived that way every day.
I’d found no thrill in being bound to an uncomfortable ride, listening to the clack-clack of the rollercoaster wheels as we clawed our way higher up a mountain of track. Every clatter of the rails sent equal measures of panic and excitement…until we reached the top…and just hovered there.
We’d hovered like a bird, basking in being on top of the world.
That was where I hung now.
Gravity defying—a girl in a white dress suspended above a dark green pond. A girl who would’ve done anything to have been born a Smith or a Jones or a Kim.
And then the rollercoaster slipped from weightless to bullet, freefalling over the mountain and hurling me into terror.
I promised myself I wouldn’t scream.
It was a hard promise to keep.
The chair lost its support, leaving my belly above me as I fell and fell and fell.
Forever I fell, before splashing into frigid wetness.
The moment the water lapped around my ankles, I gave up trying to be brave.
The water slurped and sucked, devouring my legs in an instant.
The human part of me—the girl inside—was shoved aside by instinct and horror.
I squirmed, gasping louder and louder as the ice welcomed me, faster and faster. The wooden chair surrendered to the water, letting it lap its way almost seductively up my legs, over my waist, my breasts, my throat…my…
…mouth.
I arched my neck as best I could. I fought against the pond’s embrace.
I managed one last gulp of life.
Then, I disappeared.
I became a prisoner of the lake.
I promised myself I wouldn’t scream.
I lied.
The instant the water crashed over my head, I lost it.
Well and truly lost it.
My eyes flew open in the murky gloom and I screamed.
I screamed as if I would die. I screamed as if my body was being torn in two and eaten alive. I screamed as if this was the end.
Bubbles cascaded from my mouth, gifting all my oxygen to a passing trout in a riot of glistening froth.
I promised myself I would stay calm. That I would listen to Kes’s advice and get through this with complete trust, knowing that eventually I would be hoisted back up.
That was another lie.
I had no understanding of time.
Seconds were minutes and minutes were years.
I bobbed in a substance that would kill me with no way free.
It was enough to send me into insanity.
I didn’t care I could break an arm or leg fighting against the securely buckled straps. I didn’t care I could snap my neck by thrashing hopelessly in the chair. And I definitely didn’t care I could break my mind by letting the horror of being drowned consume me.
; I couldn’t stand it.
I’m dying.
I can’t fucking stand it!
And then, just like any rollercoaster, another incline halted the fatal swoop and hurled me back into the heavens once again.
The weight of the water pressed down on my skull and shoulders. My eyes burned from rushing water. The pressure. The unrelenting grip the lake had on me. It fought the pull. It didn’t want to let me go.
The sodden material of my gown sucked to my skin as my chair was raised and raised until…
Pop.
The water relented, letting me break the skin of the pond and leave a watery death behind.
Thank God—I can breathe!
Up and up I swooped, spluttering and dripping rain from above. I breathed and coughed and choked and sobbed.
I sucked in air as if I only had one purpose in life: to revive myself and regain my sanity.
My heartbeat was frantic—palpating, double beating—far too fast and petrified.
My long hair plastered to my face. Every mouthful of oxygen I sucked, strands smothered my mouth. More panic screeched through my veins. The claustrophobia was more than I could bear.
Through the forest of my hair, I had to see behind me. I had to look at Jethro and let him see how much I’d unravelled. I wouldn’t be able to stand another dunk.
I won’t.
Quaking, I looked over my shoulder. My hair tugged, plaiting wetly around my throat as I focused on the banks.
Through drips of water, I vaguely noticed the four Hawk men. All four had their elbows locked, pushing down on the pendulum and gripping hard to the leather handholds.
The strength it took to raise and plummet me into the pond exceeded that of one man.
This debt.
This atrocity had become a family affair.
Jethro, Kestrel, Daniel, and Cut.
Together they played roulette with my life, and in a perfect harmony, they shifted as one and began the rollercoaster all over again.
Their side of the seesaw rose; I dropped.
“No!” I screamed, thrashing in the chair.
But they ignored me.
Faster and faster they dropped me until they disappeared; once again, my aquatic grave welcomed me.
The water’s kiss devoured my feet, my thighs, my breasts…my head.
I sank quicker.
Like I belonged.
Second Debt Page 17
