Nila
“LET HER GO.”
Daniel dropped his hold.
I spun to face them. I didn’t know why; I knew what was about to happen and should hide. Hide deep, deep inside. Hide from everything they would do to me.
However, I preferred to stare at the devil than go into this blind. I would rather pay attention, so I knew that I fought. That I’d won against whatever Cut had made me drink. That he hadn’t taken my refusal away from me.
I won’t let myself submit.
I vibrated and throbbed. I still begged for a release.
The drugs from the bonfire ran rampant in my veins. Cut had let me dance. He’d cut the rope from around my wrists and sat beside the fire and watched. At times, I caught him pressing a fist between his legs; others, I thought I witnessed affection on his face.
Every step, I succumbed more and more to the drugs. Every drumbeat, my pussy clenched. If Jethro had touched me, I would’ve dropped to all fours and begged him to fuck me.
I wouldn’t have cared about people or fires or watchful gazes. I would’ve given myself completely in to the fantasy and thrown myself into every debauched act imaginable.
But he wasn’t there.
And buried beneath lust and shameful wetness, I remembered enough to be disgusted at my urges. Below the tremors of salaciousness, I hung on with fingernails so I didn’t double cross every moral I had left.
The more I danced, the more the fire chased away the chill of the night sky, coating my skin with dew.
The sweating and heat helped.
Perspiration helped shed a little of the drug’s claws, bringing me back from untamed animal to a woman I vaguely recognised.
I’d won.
Against the hardest battle of my life.
But now, all that existed was desire and the knowledge there was nowhere for me to run.
Not this time.
No Kestrel to fake it. No Jethro to save me.
Just Daniel, Cut, and me in this flimsy fabric tent.
Drumbeats pounded outside, the occasional whoop and incantation fading into the starlit sky. I’d never battled myself so hard. Never tried to cling to right and wrong when faced with impending doom and wanting so fucking much to give in.
Sex.
They wanted sex.
And whatever they’d given me made me want it bad, too. Terribly bad. Stupidly, fearfully bad.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t forget. I wouldn’t forget.
And so my body split further into two, quaking and twitching, demanding I give in.
Cut came closer, cupping my cheeks with his rough hands. My skin sparked beneath his touch and I hated, hated, hated myself for the way I swayed closer, focusing on his mouth and heat and charred smell from the fire.
He chuckled softly, running his thumb over my bottom lip.
It took everything, absolutely everything, inside not to open for him and suck his finger.
“You’re still fighting, little Weaver. I suggest you give in.”
Never!
I moaned as he kissed me, encouraging me to just let go. Cut no longer played by whatever ancient rules that’d bound him. He played a different game. He seemed younger, softer...and the occasional similarity between him and his eldest son shot confusion into my brain like the worst vertigo attack.
He’s not Jethro.
He’s not!
I might’ve given in to the music and danced. I might’ve become one of the clan as I cavorted around the burning blaze. But now I would control myself, even if it meant shackling everything my body wanted and ensuring I was taken against my will.
Rape would destroy me.
But willingly participating...I would rather die a thousand times on the threatened guillotine.
“Do you need me to go into details, Nila?” Cut ran his nose along my jaw. “You know what happened to our ancestor. He was buggered from one a.m. to one p.m. He was shared. There were no rules on what could be done to his body. He was given as a debt.”
I swallowed hard.
The terrible tragedy of what’d befallen his relative helped fortify my resolve.
I leaned away from his touch. “No, you don’t have to. I remember.”
Jethro...
God, I wished he was here.
Kestrel...
He’d saved me last time. He’d remained true and honest and so damn selfless—I’d wanted him in that moment.
I wanted him now.
The drugs made me want anyone as long as I earned pleasure and an end to the incessant drive for a release.
I balled my hands. “Whatever you gave me—I won’t give in to it.”
My eyes glazed as Cut grabbed his cock. “You sure about that?”
Animalistic primal urges overrode my humanity. I was sick. Sick, sick, sick to want this murderer. The man who’d slaughtered my mother. The man who killed my lover and his brother—his very sons.
No!
A wash of clarity helped me stand firm. “Get out! Get out. I won’t enjoy this.
I won’t. No matter what you do, I won’t welcome this.
You want me to give myself willingly? You want me to love you like I love your son?
But I won’t. I never will. You’re a twisted bastard who deserves nothing more than death! ”
Silence smothered us as my outburst hung loudly in the tent.
Daniel ran his hand over his face, chuckling. “Oh, fuck, Weaver. Now, you’ve done it.”
Cut didn’t say a word, but the loose enjoyment on his face tightened with rage. Lashing out, he grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. “Love my son? I think you meant to say loved, my dear. He’s dead.”
Shit!
I forced desolation into my gaze, burying the truth deep inside.
Cut’s gaze probed mine, searching for my lies. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that. Stronger than your mother. Do you want to know how she begged me to fuck her? Want to know how wild she was? How she confessed she loved me and would die happily after the night we had together?”
Lies. All lies.
My heart formed a callus, a scar, thickening against his taunts. “I don’t believe you.” The diamonds on my throat pressed heavily on my larynx as Cut yanked me harder.
“You think you’ll fight us, but you won’t. The minute I lay a finger on that wet pussy of yours, you’ll be screaming for more.” Letting me go, I stumbled backward.
Cut prowled to a small table where a decanter of cognac had been delivered. His white shirt clung to his lanky body, almost translucent with sweat from the ceremony. His skin glimmered with dampness and his eyes glowed with sickness as he turned with a poured shot in his hand.
If only he was sick. If only he caught a disease and died.
He raised the goblet in a toast. “To the Third Debt, Nila.” Throwing back a large mouthful and tossing away the glass, he came forward. Reaching into his pocket, Cut pulled out a one pound coin. “Heads or tails, Dan.”
My heart ran wild.
My breasts tingled.
Arousal battered at my hatred, urging me to bow to the false euphoria. I wouldn’t be subdued or seduced by trickery. I would stand and fight.
I will kill you, Cut Hawk. I will kill you!
Daniel rubbed his nape. “Ah, shit. Um...heads. Gimme the queen.”
Cut flicked the coin into the air. Catching it on its downward sweep, he slapped it on the back of his hand and revealed it. His lips pulled back. “Fuck.”
Daniel punched the sky. “Fuck, yes.” Darting forward, he lassoed an arm around my waist. “I guess that means you and I get the first round, Nila.” Possession leaked through his pores.
No!
A bone-deep sob tried to claw free.
Pointing at the tent flap, Daniel growled, “Come back when the screaming stops, Pop. I’ll make sure to leave her alive for you.”
Everything inside me withered like a flower in autumn, dying, dying, dead.
Cut ran a hand over his face. “Motherfucker.” His golden eyes turned dark, but he snarled reluctantly.
“Fine.” Storming toward the door, he looked back one last time.
“See you in a little while, Nila. Remember what I said—the minute I touch you, you’ll be on your knees begging me to fuck you.
Don’t let Daniel steal everything. Save some of your strength for me. ”
And then, he was gone.
Leaving me alone with an insane Hawk who deserved to be torn apart and devoured by wolves.
Stay strong. You can do this.
My lungs ceased to work. I wanted the earth to open up and consume me.
“Ready for some fun, Weaver Whore?”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at him.
Daniel came closer, capturing my chin, raising my eyes to his. I hated that his touch felt good. That my body craved more. That whatever drugs in my system chipped away my strength, my panic...just waiting for weakness to consume me.
“Don’t touch me.” I tried to remove my face from his grip, but he only pinched me harder.
“Ah, don’t be shy. Now isn’t the time to be shy.
Not when I finally get to see what made my brother such a fucking idiot over you.
” Trailing his hand down my cleavage, he muttered, “Don’t like your small tits.
Perhaps it was your pussy that drugged him, huh?
” Pushing me backward, he laughed. “Let’s find out. Shall we?”
I screeched as he shoved me toward the bed.
No torments or games. No history lessons or delays.
He wanted me. He would have me. And then his father would. And I’d be mentally, physically, spiritually broken.
Tears sloshed inside me like a storm upon a sea, smashing against my ribcage.
Don't give in.
Time sped up as unsteadiness latched onto my brain, throwing me to the side. My skin crawled. My blood boiled with misplaced disgusting lust.
Being in this place, this awful foreign place, imprisoned me worse than Hawksridge.
I’m all alone.
Even my body was a traitor as it hummed and melted, ignoring my demands to remain frigid and fighting.
“Get on the bed, whore.” Tossing me onto the mattress, Daniel cackled. The alcohol he’d consumed glazed his eyes, turning his touch sloppy and cruel.
I bounced on the soft bedspread, shaking my head to rid the imbalance. The tent parried and pirouetted, refusing to remain in one place.
Daniel threw himself on top of me. The air erupted from my body with his heaviness.
Instantly, fire exploded through my system. “Get off me!”
“Oh, yes. Scream all you want. No one will care.” His hands fumbled with the waistband of my jeans, tearing at the zipper.