Chapter Five

Hawk's sister liked to talk.

Jeni already knew that, of course. The night before, Luna had dominated her conversation with Bethany, asking a million questions, mostly about what life was like outside of Sector Six. She was irrepressible, so full of life, and so young.

Jeni could barely remember ever being that young.

Luna moved down another row of the large, fenced plot that served as their herb garden and beckoned for Jeni to follow. Besides the typical herbs used in cooking, like basil or thyme, they grew an impressive array of plants and flowers she'd only seen in illustrations and pictures.

“We have plenty of aloe, of course—that's good for burns and scrapes,” Luna said. “Marigolds, goldenseal, fenugreek, comfrey…”

Jeni marked each one off the mental list she'd memorized. With them, they could possibly treat a number of common ailments or complaints, though they'd have to be careful. Dosages had to be monitored closely, just like the medications manufactured in Sector Five. Too much could mean organ damage, even death.

“We have a few willow trees around the farm, mostly down near the creek on the eastern side,” Luna went on, “but Alya prefers feverfew when it's in season.” She stopped beside an elderberry bush and idly traced its leaves. “How long have you known Hawk?”

Jeni had expected the interrogation, but not from his baby sister. It took her a moment to answer. “A few months.”

“But you just got serious.” It wasn't a question.

Jeni answered anyway, just to have something to say. “Yes.”

Luna smiled. “It's nice. I don't think anyone's seen him like this since—” She cut off abruptly and turned away. “Purple coneflower—that's echinacea. You can make a tincture out of the roots. Bethany swears by it. Says it'll knock out a cold quicker than anything.”

The conversation was clearly over. Jeni swallowed the urge to question the girl further, but she couldn't entirely quell her curiosity. No one had seen Hawk like this since…what?

Since who?

Luna pointed to a row of tall hedges at the edge of the garden. “And those are barberry bushes. The fruit's kind of sour, but it makes good jelly. Careful of the thorns, though.”

Barberry. It snagged against a memory, and Jeni closed her eyes. She could picture the pages she'd read, and she focused on one, from an old, dusty book Dallas had kept in storage, one filled with hand-drawn sketches and information. “You don't worry about wheat rust?”

“The strains of wheat we grow here are resistant to fungal infection,” Alya said from behind them. When they turned, she was studying Jeni again—the same measured assessment from the previous day. “Did you grow up on a farm?”

It took every ounce of self-discipline she had not to squirm. “I'm from the city. But I've been helping out with the gardening projects in Four.”

“Ah.” Alya didn't look away from her. “Luna, love, they need help getting the babies settled down for lunch. Could you run in and give them a hand?”

“Sure.” Luna spared Jeni a quick wave before weaving her way through the beds toward the house.

Just like that, she was alone with Alya and her withering scrutiny. The urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of her own nerves almost overwhelmed her, but Jeni pasted a polite smile on her face instead.

Alya tilted her head. “I was listening to the last little bit. You're looking for medicinal herbs?”

“Dallas thinks it would be a good precautionary measure in case of supply shortages.” The truth, such as it was, since he'd readily agreed with her when she'd brought it up.

“I see.” Alya turned and waved a hand. “Walk with me. I'll show you around.”

She headed around the side of the house, past a large, cabin-like structure closer than the other barns and sheds. It was huge, with several chimneys dotting the roof at regular intervals. “That's the smokehouse. We mostly cure pork, though we keep some cows and chickens to fill our own tables.”

Silence fell again, so heavy that Jeni's palms actually started to sweat. Which was the absolute height of stupidity, because so what if Hawk's mother disapproved of her? He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. And Jeni had never been ashamed of herself, or of anything she'd done, and she wasn't about to start now.

So why did it matter so much?

Alya stopped at the top of the next rise. Down in the gentle valley before them, people clustered around the new, yellow framework of a small building. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted up, along with the low drone of conversation and the occasional laugh or shout.

They were too far away for easy recognition, but Jeni spotted Hawk immediately. The way he moved was unmistakable, all leashed strength and control, whether he was raising a support beam into place or climbing into the cage for a fight.

Or touching a woman.

Jeni's cheeks heated. She'd never be able to look at another cluster of trees without picturing the moonlight filtering through the leaves or the shadows melding together to form the illusion of privacy. The association was imprinted on her brain now, along with all the things she'd discovered about Hawk—like the fact that he didn't just crave her submission, he got off on it. Hard.

The whole collar thing made a lot more sense now.

Alya shaded her eyes and stared down the hill. “They're putting up a new house. One of Shipp's boys finally coaxed one of Hawk's sisters into marrying his sorry ass, and we're out of bedrooms again. Bethany and her family are next up to get their own space, so that one'll be hers.”

Jeni still couldn't wrap her brain around how huge the families were. “There are so many children here.”

“My late husband took ten wives. Between us, we gave him fifty-five children. Hawk has forty-three brothers and sisters who made it to adulthood.” Alya dropped her hand and turned back to Jeni. “We didn't have Eden messing with our water, but the bastard still gave us fertility drugs. Twins and triplets were more efficient. More dangerous, but worth the risk. To him.”

It fit all too well with what Hawk had told her about his father. “But you only have Hawk?”

“Oh, they're all my children, more or less.” She smiled, but banked protective fury burned in her eyes. “We say it, and we mean it, for the most part. But I worry about him a little more than the rest. I always will.”

“Right.” Jeni rubbed her hands on her jeans. “You probably have questions.”

“Not so many.” Alya looked back out over the valley. “Hawk's been on his own for damn near twenty years now. So whatever has you so nervous, you should know I don't give a shit. All I care about is seeing him happy.”

There was an unspoken question in there somewhere—or maybe Jeni only heard one because she expected it. “The O'Kanes have a reputation for casual,” she said carefully. “But I think people just don't understand. None of it is casual. Ever.”

“Good, because neither is he.” Alya looked away, her lips tight, her eyes shuttered. “Hawk won't tell you this because he's loyal to a fault, but I was no kind of mother to him. I was too young, and then I was too broken. By the time I was strong enough to protect him, he didn't need it anymore, so no one's ever taken care of him. That's all I want, Jeni. Someone in his life who can take care of him.”

The man she knew was an island, a rock who kept himself carefully apart from the rest of the O'Kanes—whether through preference or necessity or sheer force of habit. “I can try,” she offered, “but I can't make him let me.”

“No,” Alya conceded. “He brought you here, though. That means something.”

“I think so. I hope so.”

“I know so.” Alya finally smiled. “You're the first one, honey. Ever.”

The first woman he'd brought home, maybe, but Luna's words played over and over in her mind. I don't think anyone's seen him like this since— “There was someone else once.”

“Someone—” Alya cut off with a sigh. “Who was it? Luna?”

The easy answer, but it wasn't the whole truth. Luna's slip was a piece of the puzzle, one Hawk had laid out for her himself, back in Four. Not having you is bad. Not getting to keep you would be worse. “Don't worry, she didn't tell me anything private.”

“I wish it was private, for his sake.” Alya gripped her shoulder. “Ask him, Jeni. You should know. Because it's not a pretty story, and he's the only one who doesn't come out of it looking like a villain—but that's never been how he saw it.”

“I will.” It was a promise she could make, because it was as much for her as it was for Hawk. If she was going to wear his collar, belong to him, then they had to be able to talk about things that had hurt them. It was the only safe way to exist in that space between sex and control, desire and pain.

“Good.” She ran her hand down to Jeni's and squeezed it. “Come on. I'll show you our setup for making medicine.”

“Thanks, Alya.” Jeni lingered for a moment anyway, just in case. Her hesitation was rewarded when Hawk turned, spotted them, and lifted his hand to wave.

She waved back, wishing they were back at the rally, hidden away in that little grove of trees. Sex was simple, easy. No matter how emotionally charged it was, in the end, it was about physical intimacy, giving and receiving pleasure.

There was nothing simple or easy about confronting the past.

She'd almost given up on Hawk when the pebble hit the guestroom window.

Jeni slid from beneath the covers and tiptoed across the floor. When she parted the curtains, he grinned up at her, one eyebrow raised in teasing challenge.

God help her, she couldn't resist that smile. She opened the window, wincing when it squeaked loudly, and stuck her head out. “You're late.”

“I had to make sure the coast was clear.” His grin only got wider. “C'mon, Jeni. Sneak downstairs so I can steal you away.”

There was no way she'd say no, and he knew it. She left the window open as she stripped off her nightgown and grabbed the sundress she'd laid out for the next morning.

Carrying her shoes in one hand, she crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the one that creaked. The last thing she needed was to start a chain reaction of crying babies and Hawk's sleepy-eyed relatives spilling out of their bedrooms.

He met her at the front door, holding it open as she slipped through and easing it shut in silence. His fingers brushed her shoulder and slid down as he leaned in close enough to whisper against her lips. “You'll be cold like this.”

Was there anything more delicious than when he unbent enough to tease her? “No, I won't,” she whispered back. “You dragged me out of bed, so it's your job to keep me warm.”

“I can do that.” His kiss was the barest caress, another tease. His lips found her chin next, then her jaw, and traced a slow, lazy path down her throat as he sank to one knee. Silently, he tugged one shoe from her grasp and held it for her.

The night air had nothing to do with the goose bumps on her flesh as she slipped her feet into the flats. “I'm glad you came. I missed you.”

“Nothing could keep me away.” Hawk caught her hand as he rose and twined their fingers together as thunder rumbled overhead. “Come on. I don't know how much time we have.”

It didn't take Jeni long to figure out what he meant. In the middle of their sprint through a field, the sky opened up. Rain pelted them, unexpectedly warm but relentless. Unforgiving.

They were drenched by the time Hawk pushed open the barn door and ushered her into its dry, dark refuge. Squeezing out her braid sent another torrent of water rushing down her arms, and Jeni bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “This is sexy,” she said as she turned. “We both look like drowned—”

The words died on her tongue. Hawk didn't look waterlogged or bedraggled or anything else that would have been just and fair. He looked perfect, even with water dripping out of his hair and plastering his shirt to his chest.

His gaze drifted down her body, lingering on all the places where her dress clung to her curves. “I'm not complaining,” he murmured, already reaching for her. “But we should get you out of this wet dress anyway. Just to be safe.”

His hands burned where he touched her. “You didn't have to lure me out into the rain to get me naked, you know.”

“I know.” He gathered the fabric at her hips and worked it up slowly. “But I like you like this. A little disheveled.”

“Or a lot.” She spun out of his grip. “You're distracting me.”

“Am I?” He caught her with a low laugh and dragged her against him so tightly that his erection pressed against her lower back. “From what?”

His bold arousal shook her resolve. It would be easy to let it slide, to slip back into the pleasure and discovery they'd enjoyed the night before. But what Hawk wanted—what she wanted—was something beyond sex, and this was the only way to make that happen.

She turned and looked up at him. “Why did you have to leave Six?”

Hawk froze. His mouth pressed into a stern line and his brow furrowed, but after a moment he ran his fingers through his wet hair, shoving it back from his forehead. “Let's find some blankets. I don't want you catching a chill.”

He led her deeper into the barn, pausing to gather a few blankets tossed over the dividers between stalls. He spread one over a low platform of hay bales and wrapped a second around her shoulders. “Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“Whichever one matters to you.”

“The long story, then.” He sat and tugged her down beside him. “Remember that farm I pointed out on the way in? The Anderson place?”

Remembering the place did what the rain and chilly air couldn't, and Jeni shivered. “Yes.”

“When I was...I don't know, nineteen or twenty? There was a drought that year, and Anderson's southern wheat field caught fire. We all had to go out and try to contain it, because it could have swept onto our land. Everyone was out there, men and women and any child old enough to carry a bucket.” He sighed. “And that's how I met her. Caroline. Anderson's seventh wife.”

It was the last, breathtaking piece of that puzzle. Suddenly, the whole awful story stretched out in front of Jeni like a movie, a thousand possibilities and eventualities playing out in her mind at once. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed. His lips curved into a wry, tired smile. “It's not unusual, you know. One of my elder brothers fell in love with my youngest stepmother. They never moved past longing looks and hand-holding, but my father found out and ran him off the farm.”

Pain wreathed the words, the kind that clenched around the pit of Jeni's stomach and squeezed. “I'm sorry.”

He wrapped one hand around hers. “You can probably figure out the rest. Caroline and I went way past hand-holding. Got away with it for almost a year. But when we were caught out…” Hawk trailed off with a shrug. “I tried to get her to run with me, but she was too damn scared. Scared we wouldn't make it, or that it would just make the punishment worse when Anderson finally got his hands on her.”

Jeni would have bet all her money that the penalty for adultery—no matter the circumstances—was steep. “What happened to her?”

“I don't know.” His voice roughened. “I mean, she's still over there. I see her sometimes, once or twice a year. But she stares through me like she doesn't even recognize me. They did something terrible to her. And it will always be my fault.”

“Why? For the unforgivable sin of falling in love?” Jeni gripped his chin and turned his face to hers. “You lost your home. Do you blame her, or is that one on you, too?”

His tiny smile broke her heart. “For a lot of years, I blamed Alya. I was cruel to her the day he drove me out. I knew how that bastard treated her, that he had hurt her and would keep hurting her. But I told her it was her fault, and she believed me.”

“Well, I hope you've apologized to her for that. A lot.”

“For the last fifteen years, give or take. Doesn't mend what broke.” He cupped her cheek, his touch soft. Almost tentative. “Now you know, Jeni. Why I move slow, why I have to be careful. When I'm not, people get hurt. And sometimes I'm sorry can't fix it.”

There were so many conclusions she could draw from his revelation, so many things that fit—why it mattered to him that she wear his collar, a blatant symbol of ownership. Why every move he made was calibrated, calculated, as if he had to consider every angle before allowing himself to want something at all. Even why he'd been fixated on her involvement with Dallas and Lex, the two people with the power to turn him out of a sector for the second time in his life.

Her heart ached for him, for the things he'd lost and the weight he still carried. She couldn't ease his pain, but there was one thing she could do, one thing she could give him.

Trust.

She took a deep breath, the sound almost lost under the thundering rain on the barn roof. “I want it now.”

The thumb tracing back and forth across her cheek stilled. “The collar?”

“The collar.”

“Why?”

So many reasons, but only one that mattered. “Because you trusted me enough to share this with me, even though it made you vulnerable.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I told you, I've been hanging out with Noelle and Jas. Maybe that ink is supposed to mean that she belongs to him, but he's just as much hers. And that's what I want. To be yours as much as you're mine.”

Her heart thumped painfully. She'd seen it before, all around the O'Kane compound, but she'd never felt it. Not like this. “I won't hurt you.”

“I know.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Check my back pocket.”

The wet denim clung to his skin. She worked her fingers into his pocket and closed them around warm, supple leather. “Oh.”

“I brought it. Just in case.”

Jeni pulled it free and studied it. It was simple black leather set with silver and a few glinting green jewels that looked like emeralds. In the center was a beautiful, delicately wrought Celtic tree, just like the one inked on Hawk's chest.

It was gorgeous, and it was too much. “Are these real?” she asked, holding up the collar. “Hawk, I can't.”

“Why not?” He took it from her, his large fingers deft as he worked the delicate clasp at the back. “What else am I supposed to spend all that fight night money on?”

“Your family?”

“They get most of it.” He paused with the collar open, waiting for her to lift her hair out of the way so he could wrap it around her throat. “Let me be selfish, just once.”

She lifted her braid, and he fastened the leather around her throat. It fit snugly, hugging her skin without being tight enough to constrict. “A perfect fit,” she whispered.

He rubbed his thumb over the silver tree. “It is selfish, you know.”

“Because everyone will know.” His shirt was wet enough to be transparent, and Jeni traced the tattoo on his chest the same way he was touching the medallion at her throat. “They'll never have to wonder who this collar belongs to. Who I belong to.”

“No, they'll never wonder.” His gaze finally met hers. “I'm learning to be okay with how badly I want that.”

“You think you shouldn't?” She tugged his shirt up. “It's an animal desire, nothing civilized about it. But that doesn't make it wrong.”

“So you O'Kanes keep telling me.” He lifted his arms so she could strip away his shirt, revealing hard muscles and vivid, elegant lines of ink.

She completely lost her train of thought, but that was okay. All that really mattered was leaning in, her mouth on him, and tracing all those beautiful lines with her tongue.

Hawk hissed in a breath, his head falling back as his eyes closed. But his hands were already moving, finding their way beneath the blankets to tug at her dress. She climbed into his lap as he pulled it up, and she shivered when the wet fabric rasped over her breasts, hardening her nipples to tight, aching points.

He tossed her dress aside and bent his head. He closed his mouth around the tip of her breast, blazing hot on her chilled skin, all tongue and teeth until he sucked hard enough to make her hips buck and leave her shuddering above him.

Jeni gripped his hair, his shoulders, anything to hold on, but it didn't matter. The storm outside was nothing compared to this one.

“Jeni.” He groaned against her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her bare ass. “Fuck—”

It was all the warning she got before he rose and laid her down on the blanket spread over the hay bales. Hawk sank to his knees between her legs, running his hands up the insides of her thighs to push them wide. He was on her before she could drag in another breath, that blazing mouth covering her pussy, his tongue thrusting deep.

It should have been too fast, but she was primed for this. For weeks, months, she'd lived on some shaky edge where all it took was a word or a glance to coax thwarted arousal into biting, throbbing life. Ever since the first party where Lex had leaned over her, her skin as hot as the breath against her ear, and told her that Hawk was watching her.

Now, with his tongue nudging her clit and his fingers biting into her thighs as thunder crashed outside, it felt like destiny. Fate. Two objects in different orbits drawing closer and closer together until they collided.

He lifted his head, panting, and she felt his fingers on her. Parting her pussy lips, baring her completely to his gaze. He stared at her with such intensity, such possessive satisfaction, that she had to clench her fists in the blanket to keep from squirming away.

Whatever had been chained up in him before, carefully, meticulously contained, had been set free. Like the storm outside, his lust raged, and she was at his mercy.

Still watching her fiercely, he brushed his thumb over her clit. She lifted her hips, chasing the caress, and moaned as pleasure zipped up her spine.

His moan joined hers, low and muffled as he bent his head again. His tongue replaced his thumb, wet and firm, lashing against her without mercy.

Jeni tried to hold back a groan. It slipped out as a whimper, one she muffled with her hand. But Hawk growled against her—an unmistakable, wordless command—and she dropped her hand to the blanket.

Then he touched her again, two fingers gliding over her sensitive flesh. She grabbed his other hand and held on tight as he worked his fingers into her in slow, maddening increments.

More. Jeni tried to form the word, but all that came out was a strangled plea. Hawk must have understood, because he gave it to her—thrusting fingers, the delicious rasp of his tongue, gentle suction that turned rough when he drew her clit between his lips.

He fucked her with his fingers and his mouth, searching for the right rhythm. Jeni helped him, riding his hand and his tongue until the tense heat began to unfurl around the edges and the first threads of bliss snaked through her.

Her shocked cry echoed through the stillness of the barn, louder than the storm outside, but she didn't hold back. She couldn't, not when this was Hawk touching her, drinking in her pleasure as it wound tighter and tighter, holding her as the tension shattered into a mind-melting orgasm.

He carried her through it, his touch gentling until she slumped back against the blanket, drained and dazed. His thumbs moved in slow, soothing strokes over her skin, coaxing her back to sanity. “Are you with me?”

She struggled up onto her elbows. “You're still wearing pants.” Christ, she sounded as dizzy and giddy as she felt. “Unacceptable.”

Hawk rose and tugged his belt open with a slow smile. “Are you ready for what happens when I'm not?”

“Nope.” She inched back, making room for him on their makeshift bed. “Take 'em off anyway.”

He did, kicking off his boots and then stripping off his pants. No more teasing, no more slow seduction. He came over her in a rush, his knees driving her legs wider, his broad shoulders and powerful chest blocking out the world. His cock slid against her, as hard and thick as she remembered, grinding against her clit.

She shuddered and almost jerked away. Instead, she pressed her nails to his shoulders in warning. “Hawk—”

He rocked again, gaze locked on hers. “Tell me.”

There was only one word that mattered, more than yes or please or any of the other things dancing on her tongue. “Yours.”

“Yes.” He rocked back again, and this time when he returned, the head of his cock pressed against her—inside her. He nudged deeper as his lips found hers, then claimed her with one long, relentless thrust. “Mine.”

The sheer rush of sensation cut off her breath, and her eyes burned with tears. Not of pain or helplessness, but at the intensity of the moment. She'd had sex before—lots of sex, for money and fun and affection and even what she'd thought might be love.

But it had never been like this.

Hawk froze, buried deep inside her, and cupped her cheek. His thumb caught a tear at the corner of her eye. “I got you, Jeni.”

“I'm not—” Her voice broke. “I'm good. I'm very, very good.”

“You promise?”

They were both trembling with anticipation. Jeni turned her head and licked the inside of his wrist. “I swear.”

“I'm glad,” he murmured, a heartbeat before his lips found hers again. Soft, sweet, a kiss she could have floated on forever if she hadn't needed so desperately for him to move.

And then he did, and it wasn't sweet at all. Hawk braced his weight on his arms and drove into her—hard. Pleasure streaked through her like a bolt of lightning arcing down to earth, leaving fire in its wake.

She gripped his hips with her legs and urged him on with her hands on his ass. There was nothing hesitant about the way he touched her now. Nothing careful. For one precious moment, all his deliberations and plans had vanished, leaving her with the one thing she'd wanted from the start.

Hawk, above her, his face tight with pleasure as he fucked her deep enough to curl her toes.

Another thrust scattered her thoughts, and she cried out. No one had ever touched her like this, with single-minded desperation, as if the world could fall around them and it wouldn't matter, as long as he was still inside her.

“Yes.” It was a snarl, a demand. He shifted his hips and found a new angle, deeper and starker. “Come around me, Jeni. Just like this.”

It was too soon, too fast—and it was happening anyway, the kind of blinding, volcanic pleasure that started in her core and rolled outward. She shook with it, shuddered, screamed as it broke through her in rough, breathless waves.

“Oh, fuck—” His rhythm faltered, and his lips parted. He froze above her, every muscle tense and trembling. His cock throbbed inside her in perfect time with her racing heart, and she clutched him closer, willing the moment to last forever.

But it couldn't. Hawk pushed up on his arms and dragged in a deep breath. “Goddamn.”

His hair was drying in odd angles, his eyes were glazed, and his face was flushed. He looked wrecked, and Jeni loved it. Loved that even with all his expectations, she'd managed to surprise him. “Is it my turn to ask if you're all right?”

“Maybe.” He rested his forehead against hers with a soft, wry laugh. “I meant to take my time, but I wasn't ready for how good it feels to make you come. Or how fucking perfect it is being inside you.”

Her breath caught. “Say it again.”

“You're perfect.” His lips grazed her cheek on their path to her ear, and his low whisper curled through her. “And you're mine.”

Outside, the storm raged on. Jeni wrapped her arms around Hawk. “Unless you want to make a mad dash back, I think we're stuck here for the night.”

“If we go back, I'm sleeping in the guestroom with you.” His laughter was warmer this time. Wicked. “And we'll both be in trouble when you can't be quiet next time.”

She ran her hands over his back, memorizing the way his muscles flexed beneath her touch. “Let's stay here instead. We don't have much time.”

“Even if we don't get any sleep?”

Especially if they didn't get any sleep. She'd been so nervous about coming to Sector Six, but now it seemed like an escape. Another world away from the constant tension that thrummed in Four, a place where she could stare at the grass and green fields and imagine that Eden was just a nightmare.

But time was slipping through her fingers now, each moment faster than the last, and her only consolation was that she wasn't going back empty-handed. Her work could help them survive this war, and then…

And then.