Nila #2
His thigh slid out from between my legs; his fingers untwined from my hair.
“Very clever to make me focus on other things than the true reason of why we’re here.
” Stepping back and sucking in a deep breath, he dragged a hand through his hair.
“You keep on surprising me, and I keep on despising what you show me.”
I laughed tightly. “Doesn’t look like you despise me.” I cocked my chin at the straining erection in his trousers. “I think you like me, and despite what you’re going to do and who you are, I still find you attractive.”
And believe me, if I had a cure for that insanity, I’d take it without hesitation.
Cruelly, he snatched my free wrist, wrapping the remaining cuff tightly.
Quickly securing the buckle, he muttered, “The way you threw yourself into my brother’s arms hints you might have a desire for all Hawks.
” His breath was hot in my ear as he spun me to face the post. “You’re just a conniving manipulator. ”
I cried out as he disappeared behind the post and hoisted my arms high with the aid of a hidden winch. Another jerk and my wrists burned in the supple leather. My torso smashed against the damp wood as my body weight transferred from my toes to my arms.
“How does that feel?” Jethro asked, coming back around.
My shoulders screamed; my blood throbbed with effort to reach my raised fingertips. I dangled with no chance at escape.
How does it feel?
It fucking hurt! It made my previous thoughts of lust seem ridiculous.
All concepts of seducing him disappeared. I only wanted this over fast, so I could admit defeat and lick my wounds in private.
“I asked you a question,” Jethro growled, his hand stroking my spine.
I flinched at his touch. It was sacrilegious, because even now it still made my core clench with want. “It hurts. Is that what you want to hear?”
Jethro’s torso pressed against my back, squashing my cheek against the damp wood of the post. The crispness of plants and the musky scent of earth overpowered his smell, giving me a welcome reprieve from the man who drove me mad.
“You look rather tempting like this, Ms. Weaver. Perhaps it will be me begging before this is done.”
I couldn’t stop my skin shivering with awareness or my heart seizing with anxiety and desire.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
With a small laugh, he pushed away, ceasing contact.
I twisted my neck, never letting him from my sight. I hated having him so close. I hated that I had no power to stop him. I hated how he stood there, wrapped in silence, watching me like some mystery he had yet to solve.
We didn’t speak, waiting to see who would break first.
Finally, after a minute, he said softly, “I’m going to give you a history lesson, Ms. Weaver.
You’ll listen closely and understand why you’re repaying this certain debt.
” Pacing, he added, “Every debt will begin this way. The history will be told, then the debt repaid. You’ll be informed of what your ancestors did to mine.
You will apologise and repent for their past sins, and only then will the extraction take place. ”
Coming close, his body heat burned me. His words were tiny whips lashing my ear. “If you do not repent and permit the debt to be paid, you will be beaten. If you do not accept why a debt has to be paid, the extraction will be taken twice. Do you understand?”
Twice?
Double horror.
Double terror.
Then...I laughed. Morbid, yes, but the image in my head was comical.
“You mean to tell me, you’ll behead me twice?” I smiled. “Are you necromancers as well as lunatics? Please, inform me on how that will work.”
His hand lashed out, spanking my denim-clad behind.
I groaned, jolting in the binds. I couldn’t unravel the painful smarting from his strike and the throbbing in my nipples and clit.
Shit. Don’t let him see that he’s broken my mind already. If he touched me, felt how drenched I was, I would never live with myself again.
“I’ve had enough of your mouth, Ms. Weaver.”
“Are you sure? Didn’t seem that way in the forest with my lips around you. Did you know that was my first ever blowjob?”
He sucked in a breath. His hand landed in my hair, fisting the thickness and burning my scalp.
His lips tickled my ear as he whispered, “You keep taunting me with what happened in the forest. Do you think just because you swallowed that I’m what.
..grateful? Sentimental? In love?” He shook me.
“What, Ms. Weaver? Shall I not remind you it was you who clenched around my tongue so hard you almost fucking bruised me? Every lick and fucking taste I had of your pussy, I drove you wild.” He trailed the tip of his tongue from my ear to my cheek.
I trembled, every part of me tightening.
“We’re on even ground. Orgasm for an orgasm. Don’t think it gives you power, because it doesn’t.”
I breathed hard, trying to find some resemblance of the hatred I’d nursed. But he pressed his body flush against mine, grinding his erection into the small of my back.
He groaned under his breath. “What I wouldn’t give to fuck you. To stop your teasing and use you like you want me to.”
Everything inside me charged, ignited, spindled out of control.
The thought of having him inside me both repulsed and enticed. The mental image of us fighting this unknown battle while our naked bodies fought for domination sent scorching thrills through me.
My breathing turned to pants. “Why haven’t you?”
Damn, the words fell from my lips before I had time to censor them.
Jethro’s hips twitched harder against me. He didn’t reply.
The question hung like a flag fluttering in the lust-thick breeze. I couldn’t take it back, and Jethro wouldn’t answer it.
Pulling his body heat away, he shoved his hands through his hair and paced the room. “Time for your history lesson.”
I wriggled against the pole, dreadfully uncomfortable and vibrating with anger and desire.
I hated the wetness between my legs. I hated that whenever he touched me, I would rather kiss then kill him, rather than flat-out destroy him.
My body was hot and confused. Desperate for freedom. Ravenous for lust.
“In 1460, the Hawks were nobodies. We had no land, no titles, no money of any kind.
We were the lowest of the low and survived on the generosity of others.
Luckily, after years of begging and living on the streets, my ancestor and his family managed to find employment in a household who were the opposite of everything they were.
“At the beginning, it seemed like luck had finally shone upon them, and their days of thievery and struggles were at an end. What they didn’t know was it marked the end of their freedom, and, ultimately, their lives.
They became slaves—available at the Weavers’ every beck and call for every frivolous demand.
Not only did my ancestor work for the family, but his wife became their kitchen maid, his son their stable boy, and his daughter their scullery underling.
A family of Hawks working for a family of Weavers. ”
Jethro’s voice was hypnotic, whisking me away from the greenhouse to a time where sewage flowed in busy streets and rat meat was as common as chicken in the slums of London.
Jethro never stopped his tale. “They worked every hour—cooking, cleaning, fetching—ensuring the Weavers lived a life of well-tended luxury. Nothing was too much for them—they were the cogs that made the household run.”
“So they were employees,” I butted in. “They were hired to look after my forefathers and no doubt given room and board as well as food and clothing.”
Jethro stalked toward me. Fisting my hair, he snarled, “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?
A fair trade for the amount of hours they slaved.
But no. The Weavers didn’t believe in fairness of employment.
They didn’t pay a cent—not to those who came from the gutter.
But you’re right—they did provide board and lodging, but they taxed it so heavily, my family existed in the Weavers’ cellar with scraps from their table.
Every year their unpayable taxes grew higher. ”
Sickness swirled in my stomach. “How do you mean?”
Jethro let me go, continuing his stroll around the room.
“I mean that every year they were worse off, not only working but paying their employers for the chance. Every year at Christmas, they were ordered to pay back their taxes of being privileged enough to live in the graces of the Weavers, and every year they couldn’t pay it back. ”
That’s awful.
My heart hurt for such unfairness, of such unnecessary brutality. It can’t be true. No one could be that horrid. Then again, it happened so long ago. It was still insanity to make me pay for it.
I gritted my teeth, fortifying myself against Jethro’s brainwashing. I couldn’t believe my forefathers were tyrannical employers. There would’ve been rules—even then. Surely?
It’s sad, but it’s also hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Get over it.
I said with half-hearted conviction, “They could’ve left and found other work. They didn’t have to put up with that treatment, even if it was true.”
Jethro laughed coldly. “Seems so simple to you, doesn’t it, Ms. Weaver?
Inhumane treatment, so leave.” He glowered.
“Not so easy when your ancestor was raping my ancestor’s wife every night, and the mistress of the house had turned every law enforcer in the county against them.
She spun such an elegant tale of espionage and thievery; no one would listen to the truth.
Everyone believed the Hawks were cold-hearted criminals who were unappreciative of the generosity of the upstanding Weavers. ”
Jethro crossed his arms. “Can you believe the Weavers even managed to coerce the police to issue a standing warrant, stating if ever a Hawk stopped working for the Weavers, they would be punished? The law said they’d be thrown into the keep and tortured for their crimes, then murdered as an example to other misbehaving working class. ”