“What is it?” I asked, tracing the majestic old-wealth of such a book.
Kes grinned, inching closer to open the first page. “It’s your history.”
My heart thrummed as his bulk seared my left side. My eyes devoured the beautifully scripted calligraphy.
“Every Weaver woman who’s stayed with us has made notes and shared her journey, along with patterns and fashions created while living with us.” He gently flipped a page, where faint sketches decorated along with the signature of one of my ancestors. Notes scribbled about what sort of fabric to source, along with diary-like entries of what life was like living in the nest of Hawks.
My hands shook. Leaning over, I couldn’t read fast enough.
Today was a good day. Bonnie had the chiffon I requested delivered, and I spent the afternoon in her chambers, creating a new crinoline evening gown. She’s a surly old bat, but when you get to know her…
The next paragraph had been scribbled out, so dark and determined, I had no hope of reading what was written. It continued:
The passion to create had disappeared. I lived in a void with no urge to sketch or pin or sew. I hate that I’ve found that passion here of all places, but at least…
As much as I do not wish to admit—I’m happy.
My eyes shot up to Kestrel’s. “You’re trying to prove that my family were content with their imprisonment?” My heart froze over at such atrocities. But how could I deny it when it was in black and white?
Kes smiled softly. “Happiness comes in many forms: sex, freedom, control. I think everyone has the capacity to find happiness in even the darkest of places.”
Grabbing the majority of the pages, he flipped them over, revealing unmarred parchment.
Chills scattered down my back.
It’s for me.
It’s been waiting for me to fill with my journey.
“This is yours, Nila. If there aren’t enough blank pages, we’ll have a book binder add more.” With gentle fingertips, he tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
I jolted from his touch, my emotions going haywire.
“This is the first gift of many. You’ll see.”
My eyes locked with his; a ball lodged in my throat.
Awareness sparked between us; my lips parted as I sucked in a breath. Kes looked at me the exact same way Jethro had after our fight in the forest, after he’d blown down my throat, after I’d won. That same awe, same secretive amazement, now blazed in his brother’s gaze.
Words deserted me as I fell into his soul, allowing him to spellbind me, despite everything that he was.
I gasped as his fingers clasped mine, squeezing hard. Dropping his voice to a soft whisper, he said, “Whatever you think of my family, don’t let it taint what you think of me.” Waving with his free hand, he continued, “These are my quarters. My bedroom is off this saloon. If it ever gets to be too much, if my brother ever goes too far, you’re welcome to find sanctuary here.”
Bowing his head, energy and connection poured from him. “You’re always welcome.”
My heart hurled itself against my ribcage, bruising itself in its urge to flee or perhaps surrender to the perfectly delivered offer of kinship.
I froze as he cupped my chin. My skin twinged as he held me firm. “Now, Nila Weaver, read. Forget us, and spend time with your true family.”
THREE FUCKING HOURS, I looked for her.
I hunted through Hawksridge Hall, opened doors into rooms I never wanted to step foot into ever again, and stalked down corridors I’d long since forgotten about as I never explored that part of the house.
I bumped into Diamond Brothers and got caught up in a strategy meeting for the next shipment arriving in three days, but no matter how many bedrooms, bathrooms, and lounges I searched, I found nothing.
Nothing!
Had she run again? Could she be that fucking stupid to try and escape after I’d proven how useless that was?
Damn my father for dismissing us.
The moment I’d stepped outside the dining room, Kes had requested my help on a matter. Seeing as he was the only person I had time for, I reluctantly followed, even though I wanted to wait till Cut had finished with Nila. I fucking hated her being alone with him. My knuckles ached from fisting so hard, and I didn’t know how I would survive when the time came to share.
I’d go fucking insane.
I’d have to make sure all loaded ammunition was barred from the house, so I didn’t end up slaughtering my entire family.
Nila Weaver was mine, goddammit. I didn’t want anyone talking, touching, or twisting her thoughts without my permission.
Calm the fuck down.
I slammed to a stop in the middle of a corridor. If I bumped into Cut in this state, he’d know I wasn’t coping. He’d take me so damn low, I wouldn’t stand a chance of climbing out of the glacier so fast.
You shouldn’t be thawing so quickly.
I agreed with my internal logic. I shouldn’t be feeling this type of emotion. I shouldn’t be letting my feelings get the better of me.
Breathing hard through my nose, I locked my jaw and recited the same thing I did every day, ten times a day, twenty even—all to remind myself of who I was meant to be and hide who I truly was.
My lips moved as I let the words trickle silently in my mind.
I’m a shadow lurking in plain sight.
A predator in sheep’s clothing.
I prey on the weak with no apology.
I hide my true temper beneath a veil of decorum.
I’ve mastered the art of suave.
I’m a gentleman. Distinguished, accomplished, and shrewd.
I’m all of those things but none of them.
Rules and laws don’t apply to me.
I’m a rule-breaker, curse-maker, life-stealer.
The minute I’d finished, my hands balled, and the devil’s advocate whispered in my ear.
You’re lying. It’s a farce.
Clenching my jaw, I forced my heart rate to calm and for the ice to take me hostage. Repeating the mantra, I slowly fell under its hypnosis. My back relaxed, the knots in my muscles unthreading. My sweaty palms went paper dry and cold, while my face turned slack with uncaring.
Finally.
The calmness siphoning through my veins was welcome, turning everything frigid and controllable in its path.
Everything about my life since I was fifteen fucking years old was a carefully designed and executed illusion.
Up till now, I’d survived.