Now, it just made me angry. So damn angry.

“Hey…” Kes leaned forward, gathering me in a hug. “It’s okay. Whatever he’s done, we can fix it.”

I stiffened in his embrace. Rage bubbled in my blood.

I felt…played.

What is he doing?

The longer he held me, the more my anger boiled, morphing into recklessness. Words tingled my tongue—words I shouldn’t say out loud.

What’s your purpose?

What do you get if I fall for your tricks?

Then guilt smothered my lividity. What if I had it all wrong and Kite/Kes was the one true person in this slithering cesspool of lies?

Perhaps Kes was right, and I should fear Jethro more.

Maybe I was totally wrong about everything.

I slouched in his arms, giving in to the pounding headache and questions.

Once again, Kes had the uncanny ability to make me doubt. Jethro gave me power, but with one hug, Kes took it all away.

I transformed into Nila—dutiful daughter and fumbling twin sister, not the fierce fighter I was when Jethro called me out to fight.

Even fucking each other had been a fight.

A delicious, incredible, insidious fight.

Kes’s arms tensed as he pulled back, holding me firm. My eyes widened as he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips against mine.

Whoa—what?

I locked in place as Kes closed his eyes, licking the seam of my mouth with a questing tongue.

What should I do?

I couldn’t move.

His taste slipped through my lips, bringing the richness of coffee and chocolate. His heat was nice but not consuming. His touch was gentle but not devouring. There were no fireworks, no detonation, just sweet…

I whimpered as his tongue speared into my mouth against my approval.

“Kestrel.”

My heart galloped at the barely muttered word.

We jumped apart.

Guilt saturated my lungs, even though I had nothing to be guilty about. After all, I’d been told I was to be passed around the Hawks.

So why did Jethro stand rigid and furious above us with his hands fisted by his side? “I see you did as I asked and found her but went against my orders and decided to keep her for yourself.”

Oh, shit.

Kes stood up, his body tensing against his brother’s wrath. “I could say the same thing about you the other night.”

My eyes whipped between the two men. How much did Kes know?

Jethro's eyes flashed, looking over Kes’s shoulder directly into mine.

I saw a question and an answer.

Did you fucking tell him?

Because I didn’t.

My heart bucked against my ribcage. Subtly, I shook my head, giving him my oath that our secret was still safe.

Jethro relaxed just a little. His gaze landed back on his brother—the man he now saw as a rival.

“You can’t monopolise her all the time, Jet.” Kes spoke quietly, keeping his temper in check. I didn’t want to come between family, even if it was the worst family on earth who meant to exterminate mine.

Jethro balled his hands. “You’re forgetting I’m the firstborn son. She’s mine until I tire of her. Only then can she be chased. But until then…” He prowled forward, closing the distance. “She’s fucking off limits. Got it?”

Kes stood taller, his arms locked by his sides. He didn’t look like he would back down. Seconds ticked past, the late summer sky filling with throbbing testosterone.

I waited for the kindling of a fight to erupt, but Kes rolled his shoulders admitting defeat. “Fine. But I’m not waiting until you tire. Fair’s fair, brother. I’ll catch you around.” Prowling away, he turned to wave goodbye. “See you soon, Nila. Remember, my quarters are always open to you.”

The moment he’d disappeared, Jethro rounded on me.

I huddled on my lounger, wishing he wasn’t towering above and blotting out the sunshine like the devil incarnate.

If he wanted to berate me for what happened the other night, then so be it, but I wouldn’t take his temper without drawing blood of my own.

But just like Kes had shed his animosity, Jethro managed the same.

His face settled from rage into normalcy. Bowing, he held out his hand. “Come. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

I’d never seen anything so spectacular and perfect and inviting in my entire life.

Is this real? Or am I in a dream?

“What—what is this place?”

Is this what Kestrel meant when he said Jethro had something to show me?

Jethro placed his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward. The double doors behind him closed. Leaning against them, he never took his eyes from my wonder-filled face.

“It’s yours. Your quarters. Your real quarters.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

He chuckled softly. “The buzzard room was a stupid idea I had to keep you in line. I’ve grown up a little since then.”

I had so much to ask, but all I could do was drift forward in awe.

The room was huge, completely open plan with arched walkways leading to a sitting room, dressing room, bathroom complete with huge shower and claw-foot bathtub, and a bedroom that looked straight from a Persian souk. Acres of divine beaded material hung in heavy swathes from the teak four-poster bed.

But it was the room we stood in that fascinated me.

It was better than any haberdashery I’d been in.

Far exceeding any priceless material market I’d travelled to with my father and brother on expeditions to find exclusive textiles.

The walls were decorated with floor-to-ceiling racks. Bolts and bolts of every colour fabric imaginable hung enticing and new. Ribbon spools, lace sheaves, threads of every style and width rested on huge tables groaning with scissors, needles, chalk pens, and tape measures.

In the centre of the room stood three sizable busts, two full-size models to design the perfect dress on, and a skylight above, which drenched the space in natural light.

Comfy couches, love-seats, and velour stylish chairs were scattered beside bookcases full of histories of fashion; there was even a fish tank in the corner with tropical fish glowing in pristine turquoise water.

My fingers ached to touch everything at once.

Then my eyes dropped to the carpet.

Deep emerald richness glowed with elegance and the repeating design of W.

“This is the Weaver quarters. They’re only shown and offered when the current Weaver fully understands her place.”

I couldn’t stop my smirk, turning to stare at him. “I haven’t learned my place.”

His face remained locked of emotion. “No, you haven’t. And my father won’t be happy that I’m giving you this so soon, but…things changed.”

My heart sprung into an irregular beat, waiting for him to continue.

But he didn’t.

Moving through the room, he stood out in his black shirt and grey slacks like a spot of ink or a stain on such pretty fabric. He didn’t belong.

I followed him. Finally seeing what I should’ve seen all along.

He doesn’t belong in these rooms.

He doesn’t belong in this house.

He doesn’t belong with this family.

Everything I knew about Jethro was wrong. And despite his task and our fates that were horribly entwined and shadowed with death, I wanted to know him.

Following him through the space, I slammed to a stop as he spun to face me.

His face twisted. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to discuss what’s happening or even try to fucking understand it.”

My stomach flipped over at the lust glowing in his gaze. “Okay…”

Closing the distance between us in one large stride, he captured my cheeks, holding me firm. “I want to fuck you again. So fucking much.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re asking my permission?” I whispered.

His face contorted. “No, I’m not asking for your damn permission.”

“Then…just do it.”

The air solidified and for a second, I thought he’d throw me away and storm off.

But then his fingers dug into my cheeks and his mouth crashed against mine.

WHAT THE FUCK am I doing?

I’d spent the past week working for my father, having sessions with my sister, and running the latest diamond shipment—not to mention the frantic hour I’d had after fucking her and sneaking into the security room to destroy the camera footage.

I was playing with fucking fire. And instead of getting burned and becoming a puddle of melted ice water, I was stronger, better, firmer in my convictions than I’d been in…well, forever.

I didn’t understand how the direct contradiction to my world could improve me rather than destroy me.

I knew I should question it—find answers rather than keep going down a path I didn’t understand, but how could I stop when Nila was at the end, beckoning with a corrupting smile, spreading her legs in wanton invitation?

I wasn’t a monster, but I wasn’t a fucking saint either.

My willpower to stay away had snapped this morning when I’d seen her disappear into the gardens with a hungry haunt in her eyes.

I liked to think that look was for me.

But then she’d kissed my fucking brother.

Nila’s hands flew up, her fingers slipping through my hair. She moaned, sucking on my tongue, driving me mad.

My stomach swooped as my cock instantly thickened.

If she was hungry, then I was fucking ravenous.

Her cheeks were pliant beneath my fingertips. Our tongues meshed and parried. Her soft moan echoed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from walking her backward to the bed.

Countless evenings Cut had told me how I was to fuck her the first time. A game plan of pain, torture, and no pleasure permitted for her. That was part of the Third Debt—amongst other things.

But here I was again. Disobeying.

Fucking disobeying everything I was, just for one little taste.

My cock wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near her for months. How did this happen? How was I so weak when it came to her?

Nila cried out as the back of her legs crashed against the bed. She tumbled from my grip, her cheeks pinpricked with red from where my fingertips had dug into her flesh.

My dick had never been so hard as she clambered onto her knees and looped her arms around my neck, jerking me close.

I should stop this. I should walk out the fucking door and lock it. Better yet, I should strike her and make her cry—instil a healthy dose of fear into the woman who was supposed to be my toy. Not my master.

“Jethro—please…stop thinking. I can hear your thoughts; they’re so loud.”

I reared back. “What?”

If she could hear my thoughts, why the hell wasn’t she running? Couldn’t she see the danger? Didn’t she understand the nightmare this could turn into?

I not only played with my life but hers, too. Death wouldn’t be given lightly if Cut found out. He’d make her beg for it. He’d tear her apart piece by piece for every delicious feeling she invoked in his firstborn son.

Every kiss, every touch—I was sentencing her to worse than any debt she could repay. And all for what? Because I was fucking weak. Weak. Weak.

You can have today.

I’d premeditated this—that was how addicted I’d become.

‘Someone’ had spilled something sticky onto the security hard drive; a new part had to be ordered before the cameras in the Weaver quarters would be operational.

I calculated two days, possibly three, before it was replaced.

Two or three days to fuck her as much as I could, before going cold-turkey and forgetting that this ever happened.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, her black eyes glittering with lust.

A smile tugged the corner of my mouth. “Aren’t those the two words that got us into this mess?”

She grabbed the front of my shirt, her expert fingers undoing the buttons in record time.

My head fell back as her tiny hands splayed on my chest and tickled their way around to my spine.

She pulled me close, sealing her lips over mine.

The second her taste entered my mouth, I snapped again.

I couldn’t help it.

She was a fucking drug.

Grabbing the diamond collar, I shoved her hard. Toppling from her knees, her nails scraped my ribcage as she fell backward on the bed. The moment her ballerina legs spread, I pounced.

I couldn’t resist anymore—it was futile.

Ripping my shirt off my shoulders, I kneeled on the bed and grabbed her hips to drag her body beneath mine. Pressing myself over her, we both shuddered in delight.

Her belly fluttered like a dying creature; while her heart pounded so hard, it rearranged my own beat.

I’d never enjoyed kissing anyone as much as I enjoyed kissing Nila. I felt her tongue in my mouth but felt it stronger on my cock. I’d never been high on the taste of another person. It wasn’t just chemistry sparking between us or the battle of willpowers or even the knowledge of how this would all end.

It was different, and I had no urge to put a description on it. The moment I knew what it was, was the moment I would have to run from it.

Her tongue stroked slow and inviting with mine, dancing like liquid silk.

My hand fell between her legs. The jeans she wore were my worst enemy as I attacked the button and zipper.

She giggled against my mouth, shoving my fumbling fingers away to release it with one twist of a single hand. “Now you can get rid of them.”

My stomach clenched at the need in her voice. “Thank fuck for that.” Rolling off her, I yanked the offending material away and bent my head over her hip to tear at the black lace knickers she wore. Ripping them off, a groan echoed in my chest.