I had feelings for him.
A dangerous softness toward my would-be-killer.
It has to end.
I had to find a way to seduce him…to make him love me, all while I kept my heart frigid and locked away in an ice fortress.
I laughed under my breath. You sound just like him.
Only, ice wasn’t impervious. Ice melted and succumbed to fire.
I’d proven that over the past month.
The house breathed around me with gentle heartbeats only ancient dwellings could have. Spirits of past generations lived in its walls, revenants danced in the drapery, and figments of long forgotten lovers floated through the tapestries.
A grandfather clock tick-tocked as I jogged past, showing the time at six thirty a.m.
After being privy to the business meetings with Kes and the Black Diamonds, I knew the men never got up this early. They worked late, dealing with shipments and the transportation of stones worth more than any dress I could sew. Darkness was their asset, the sun their foe.
At least I could run and be back before anyone tried to stop me.
I didn’t want them to draw the wrong conclusion that I was trying to escape again. I blinked as I ran head first into a horrendous conclusion.
Even if you found the boundary this morning, you wouldn’t leave.
My heart thumped harder at the tangled web I lived.
Freedom was something I wanted more than anything. But even if I escaped the Hawks, I would only run back into the trap of pity and vertigo. I wanted more than that. I deserved more than that.
If I found the estate edge, I wouldn’t disappear. I couldn’t.
My captivity wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about the future. It was about Jethro.
Admit it…
It was about living.
The passion, the intensity, the blazing ferocity of existing with enemies and plotting beneath their noses was a much worthier cause than sitting at home sewing for the masses.
This was about me. Me standing up for myself, and for a future I wanted, not a future already planned for me.
This was about so many twisted things.
I wrenched open the French doors at the end of the corridor and stumbled into the foggy dawn. Fresh air welcomed me and I found a reprieve from my scrambled thoughts.
I can’t forget my ultimate plan.
No matter how Jethro endeared himself to me—giving me glimpses of someone barely coping inside his wintry armor—I wasn’t going to forget my goal.
Freedom.
Not just for myself, but for the rest of my legacy. My children and their children and their children’s children would never have to go through this. I intended to be the last Weaver stolen.
It’s time for a new debt—one that owes us life, not death.
Sucking in lungfuls of crisp air, I steeled myself in what I had to do. In order to win, I had to guard my soul. I had to play along with Jethro’s mind games and hope to God I won first.
A cool breeze whistled through the trees, sounding like haunted laments. I shivered, wishing I’d brought a jacket.
You’ll be sweating in ten minutes. Ignore it.
Gritting my teeth against the cold, I bent over and stretched my quads. The tug and slow release of muscles was heaven after the stress of the past few days.
My body hummed with the knowledge it was about to run.
And run.
And run.
For fun this time, not for survival.
Bouncing on the spot, I rolled my shoulders, eyeing up the sweeping lawn before me. If I went right, I’d loop around the stables. If I went left, I’d cut through the sprawling rose garden and orchards.
Go straight.
Down the meandering path that disappeared over the horizon.
I switched from bouncing to jogging.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” a cool voice whispered through the silver fog.
I wrenched to a stop, peering behind me.
No one.
“I thought you’d realised running wasn’t a viable option, Ms. Weaver.”
His icy voice sent a strange mixture of hot and cold desire down my spine. Jethro morphed into being, seeming to solidify from the mist like a terrible poltergeist. He leaned against one of the pillars holding up the portico, crossing his arms.
My heart collapsed, unable to untangle the maze of hypocrisy between us. My skin begged for his touch. My lips tingled for his. Every inch of me craved what he could deliver.
Heat. Passion. An eruption that I felt in every cell.
But none of that was real.
And I refused to believe in trickery any longer.
Mirroring his body language, I crossed my arms. “I realise escaping isn’t a viable option. But I’m not escaping. I’m running. Running is my only option to escape the mess you’ve made.”
His jaw clenched. “The mess I’ve made?”
“Yes.” I took a step backward as he advanced. “You’re messing me up, and I’m done playing whatever it is that you’re doing.” I sucked in courage and embraced honesty. It seemed to work around him, and I needed him to see how serious I was. How hurt I was with his deception.
He’s Kite.
Bastard.
Baring my teeth, I said, “It seems I have a weakness for you, but I changed my mind. I don’t—”
A low growl escaped him. “A weakness? You call what happened between us a fucking weakness?”
My breathing ratcheted as if I’d already run two miles. “The worst kind of weakness.”
He smiled, but no mirth entered his gaze. If anything, his golden eyes were luminous with anger. “You’re the one who started it…Nila.”