Chapter 106 Jethro
Jethro
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“WHAT ARE YOU doing in here, Kite?”
I slouched.
My nickname. The term of endearment that I allowed no one but my sister to use filled me with equal parts relief and annoyance. I should never have used it to message Nila. Now its meaning intertwined with the debts. It would never again just be a simple term of togetherness between Jaz and me.
I’d been so stupid to call myself after James Bond, too. Kite007. What a ridiculous name. It wasn’t that I even liked James Bond. I just thought he had cool gadgets and deserved his kickass status for always killing evil bastards.
My fingertip burned with licking fire. My knuckles still tingled from resting on Nila’s thigh. So many times, I’d had to brace myself so I didn’t flip my hand over and slide my touch between her legs.
I’d been achingly hard the entire time I’d tattooed her. I’d wanted to see if she was wet while repaying the favour. There was something primal about knowing the woman who I’d fucked, who intrigued me over all others, was walking around wearing my brand.
A brand that marked her forever as mine.
Shit, perhaps I should’ve taken care of myself before coming here. The moment I let my thoughts drift to Nila, I grew hard again.
Jasmine smiled, waiting patiently like she always did for me to reply. There was no judging, no annoyance. Only acceptance and quiet companionship.
“I had to come see you.”
Every second that ticked past in the solar had dwindled my defences until I had no reserves, no ice, no energy to fight against my family. The instant the tally concluded, I ran. A pussy move, but the only one to keep my sanity.
Jasmine shifted higher in her chair. She sat by the window, her embroidery threads and cross-stitch pattern spread out on the window seat where she had the most light to see.
Her rooms were the epitome of class. Dark grey walls with yellow coloured upholstery and linen. Archangels and fluffy clouds painted the ceiling while her floors drowned in multi-coloured rugs of different sizes and designs.
This was her world.
This was the only place I felt safe to let down my guard.
Jaz patted the window seat, folding up her pattern chart and moving aside some of the threads. “Want to talk about it?”
Did I? Did I want to admit the havoc Nila wreaked on me, or was it best not to talk about it and hope the power she had disappeared?
I shook my head. “Let me just hang here.”
She smiled. “No problem. I’ll just continue doing what I’m doing.”
She knew me so well.
Her jaw-length black hair flicked at the ends in some fashionable haircut she’d recently adopted and her button nose and heart-shaped face was too kind to be around my brothers. Jasmine Hawk looked exactly like our mother. And only eleven months younger than me, she was practically my twin.
I wouldn’t admit it to Nila, but I understood her connection with her brother. There was something to be said for finding a kindred soul in a person who’d been there right from the beginning.
I probably wouldn’t have survived without Jasmine. I owed her everything.
“Relax, Kite. Let it go.” Her small hands smoothed down her pretty woollen dress. She always looked immaculate in old-world fashions, which was utterly depressing as she never stepped foot off the grounds.
I’d tried many times to take her for a ride, on either Wings or my motorbike, but she claimed she was perfectly content looking through a window and watching others enjoy the world.
One of these days I would drag her out and show her how much she missed by playing Rapunzel in her tower.
Picking up her cross-stitch, Jaz gave me one last smile and continued to work on yet another masterpiece of our imposing monolithic home. Considering she didn’t fit the Hawk traits like me, she was extremely patriotic to her heritage.
Threading her needle, she said, “Rest, brother. I’ll watch over you.”
* * * * *
I woke with a chill.
Gloomy dusk had replaced the grey morning. “Damn, what time is it?” I sat up, holding my head as a rush of nausea battered me. It was always the same. The sickness at the end of a long day. Especially if I’d been subjected to my family for long periods of time.
Jasmine was still in her chair, her legs covered in a blanket she’d crocheted. Her fingers flew, drawing a needle with orange thread through the hoop of her recent cross-stitch.
Not bothering to look up, she replied, “You slept through dinner again. But it’s okay. I had the servants bring you up some cold cuts.” She motioned toward the sideboard by her bed. Resting on the polished surface was a silver dome covering a plate.
I sighed, running both hands through my hair. Chuckling softly, I said, “You know me too well.”
Her eyes met mine. “I know what you are but not who you’re becoming.”
I froze.
It wasn’t uncommon for Jasmine to state such poignant weighty things. She was wise—an old soul. Someone who I leaned on far too much.
Knowing she had questions, I stood up wearily and went to retrieve the meal. Returning to my place, I sighed. “Am I supposed to understand that or is it a helpful way to ruin my sleep tonight?”
She giggled softly. “I think you’ve ruined your sleep by napping here all afternoon.”
Even though she watched me with impatience and expectation, I felt nothing from her but love. Unconditional acceptance.
I sat back contentedly.
Finally, I could breathe again.
Nila tangled me into knots, drove flames through my icicle-ridden heart, and forced me to confront parts of my personality I wished were dead. But Jasmine...she soothed me. She granted me strength in her silence and a place to heal in her adoration.
Pulling the silver cover off, I picked up a piece of honey-cured ham and placed it into my mouth.
Jasmine reached for her glass of sour apple. She refused to drink anything else—water and sour apple quenchers—that was it. “So...you ready to talk yet?”
I ignored her, placing another piece of ham on my tongue.
She huffed, wrapping her tiny hands around her glass. Her fingers were almost as delicate as Nila’s. They were both proficient at needlepoint and of similar build. Everything inside knew they’d probably get along.
But I wanted to keep the two women of my life separate. I had my reasons.
Nila couldn’t know who I truly was and I wouldn’t be able to keep my secrets if she met Jasmine.
Jasmine knew the truth. The whole truth. The truth that could potentially cut my lifespan into pieces and steal my inheritance on the eve of it becoming mine.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it free, I scowled at the screen. The alert on keywords surrounding my family and the Weavers flashed with new information.
My blood boiled at the latest leak online about our private affairs. I’d been watching him, just waiting for him to do something stupid.
That little shit-stirrer has gone too far this time.
“I have to make a call.”
Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t mind. Do what you need to do.”
Gritting my teeth, I dialled the number and placed the phone against my ear. I did my best not to crush the device in my fingers. I was angry. Fucking pissed. If I had time to drive to London and tell him in person, I would. Only, I would invariably end up using my fists—not my voice.
“Hello?”
My heart thundered viciously.
“Hello, Vaughn.”
“Uh, hi...who’s this?”
I laughed coldly. “As if you don’t know who this is. Listen, whatever you’re doing, stop it. This is the only friendly warning you’ll get. She’s ours now. Not yours. And you can’t win against us so don’t even fucking try. Got it?”
Deafening silence came down the line.
“Last warning, Mr. Weaver. Tell the press to mind their own business and put a gag on whatever bullshit you’re spreading.”
Harsh breathing filled my ear. “Listen here, you arsewipe. Nila is my sister. I love her more than fucking anything, and I will get her back. She’s not happy with you.
If you think I’m going to sit back and let her be subjected to you maniacs, you’re completely fucking nuts.
Soon, everyone will know what you’ve done.
Soon, every law enforcer and newspaper will understand how sick and twisted you are.
And then you’ll be ruined, and we will have won.
Go suck on that, fuckface. Don’t call me again. ”
He hung up.
I threw my phone across the room.
“Shit!”
Not only did I have to deal with my own fucking weaknesses, but now I had to find a way to stop Nila’s brother from destroying everything, too. Christ, this day couldn’t get any worse.
Jasmine looked at my phone as it bounced against the wall. “Well...I’m guessing that didn’t go as you wanted.”
“He’s determined to kill himself.”
“And take both our families’ reputations down with him.”
I nodded. “Exactly. He has to be stopped.”
I didn’t relish the thought of killing Nila’s brother, but what else could I do? He couldn’t be permitted to steal what was mine. He couldn’t ruin what I’d found. And he definitely couldn’t take the one thing that I needed to make it to my thirtieth birthday.
“Don’t be too hard on him. We took his mother and his sister. He’s allowed to be—”
“He thinks having a dead mother grants him compensation?”
Jasmine’s face fell. “No, of course not. Just like we don’t expect anything after what happened to ours.”
Colossal pain howled in my chest. Memories of a woman who looked so like Jasmine filled my mind. I never let myself think about her because that one incident had scarred me for life. It didn’t make me who I was, but it had taught me death and pain and horror—things I’d never be free of.
“Kite...”
I swallowed my agonising memories, glaring at my sister. “I know, Jaz. We agreed not to bring up that day.”
She nodded. “You came in here to find peace, yet you brought anger and pain instead. Let it go.”
I sighed, hanging my head in my hands. “I’m trying. Just...give me some space.”
She shook her head. “If you wanted space, you would’ve taken Wings for a ride.
Don’t bullshit me. It’s getting worse for you, isn’t it?
All of this...it’s too much.” She put her empty glass down, leaning forward in her chair.
Her cherub cheeks were flushed from the roaring fire that a servant had set in the white marble fireplace. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”
I choked. “Excuse me?”
She reclined, shoving aside all thoughts of our mother and focusing once again on my damn issues.
“You heard me.” Waving a hand in my direction, she added, “You’re the worst I’ve seen you since you were fifteen.
You’re stressed and angry. You’re hurting.
” Her voice softened with worry. “It’s been a long time, Jethro, and I hate to see you in pain.
But I think...I think you finally need to learn to control it, rather than bury it. It’s not helping anymore.”
My heart thumped in horror at the thought of being denied freedom from the horrendous disease I battled. If Jasmine couldn’t grant a reprieve, how could I get through the next ten months and finally take my place as heir?
It’s so fucking close. I’ll make it. I have to make it.
“You know that isn’t possible, Jaz.”
“You don’t have a choice. It’s eating you alive, and unless you face it, you’re going to massacre your feet or lose your mind. Either way, both aren’t healthy and both will only bring disaster.”
I shoved away the food, no longer hungry. “Then what the fuck do you propose I do?”
Jasmine narrowed her eyes, conclusions and solutions already formed in her gaze. She looked at me as if all of this had an answer. Which it didn’t.
After a moment, she murmured, “Use her.”
I froze. Blood roared in my veins. “You know I can’t do that. I’m risking everything by letting her get this close to me.” I bent forward, resting my head in my hands. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”
I had too much on my shoulders. Worrying about what Vaughn was doing. Fearing what my father would do. Stressing about my feelings for Nila.
I’m done. Literally about to fucking snap.
Jaz ignored me, diverting my thoughts back to her original statement. “You’ll have to. If you’ve let her in enough to sleep with her—”
My head shot up. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
Jaz raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips. “Oh, really? You forget I can see through your lies.”
My forehead furrowed. “I fucked her, but I didn’t sleep with her.”
Even as I said it, my subconscious screamed the truth.
If I had fucked her, I wouldn’t have let her affect me. It would’ve been purely physical and nothing more. She wouldn’t have this hold over me—this damn fucking power.
“You’re lying, Kite.” Jasmine sighed, running a hand through her glossy hair. “And until you fess up and see that you’re the one ruining the only thing that might work for you, I can’t help you.”
My blood ran cold. “What do you expect me to do? She’s a Weaver!”
She didn’t flinch at my outburst—completely used to me. “Doesn’t matter. If you have to use her to cure yourself and realise you can be who you are, even after a lifetime of being told you can’t, then do it.”
Goosebumps broke out over my skin. “What are you saying?”
She stiffened, looking a lot older than her twenty-eight years.
“I’m saying you need to find another way.
If you don’t, you won’t survive, and I refuse to live in this family without you.
” Reaching forward, she took my hand, linking our fingers together.
“In another few months all of this will be yours, Jethro. Don’t let her destroy you—not when you’re so close. ”
I squeezed her hand, wishing it were that easy. “I can’t let her in.”
Jaz smiled. “You don’t have to. Make her fall in love with you. Do whatever it takes for her to ignore the reality of her circumstances and fall head over heels for you. Then deal with her brother and make peace with who you are.
“Only then will you find your salvation.”