The residue of the last pill I’d taken five hours ago faded, letting me live in bliss for a short moment. Falling back into insanity, I typed:
Kite007: I’m fucking myself. Are you jealous?
Needle&Thread: Obscenely jealous.
Kite007: Rub yourself. I want to hear you moan.
Needle&Thread: If I were in your bed, you’d hear me scream.
Goddammit.
I gritted my jaw; my hips drove faster into my hand. My breathing accelerated until my bed creaked with my thrusts. In a few short hours, I would collect her—not because she’d ‘invited me’ but because it was time.
Our plan was in place. It was time for execution. In more ways than one.
Needle&Thread: I’m so close, Kite. So close to coming. I need you to collect me. I want to be fucked by you again.
I came.
I couldn’t help it.
With a loud groan, ribbons of white shot through the air and splattered against my naked belly. Wave after wave, I rode through vicious pleasure. The foggy haze dispersed just long enough for me to twitch and moan with the first sensation I’d had in weeks.
Breathing hard, I typed one last message:
Kite007: Don’t go into the dark alone, little Weaver. Monsters roam the shadows, and your time is officially up.
With a cold smile, I tucked the phone inside my drawer and wiped down my stomach with a sock. My breathing slowly steadied as I rested my head on my pillow. Taking the small bottle from its safe place beside me, I swallowed a pill and felt the change instantly.
Whereas before there was sensitivity, now there was nothing.
I was back to being blank, and the next time I saw her, she’d finally understand the errors of her ways.
She’d had me and lost me.
Now it was time to suffer the consequences.
It was cold tonight.
My breath billowed as I shrugged into my leather jacket and straddled my new Harley. My gloved hands were warm, my uncut feet toasty in my heavy boots.
I no longer had to hurt myself to stay sane.
I had something better.
Pulling out the small bottle, I popped another tablet of the best medicine in the world. I’d taken an extra dose today—just to be sure—and welcomed the familiar blanket over my thoughts.
My heart was a lump of snow, my extremities their usual ice.
I pulled down the black visor on my helmet.
I was no longer human but a black shadow.
The Grim Reaper.
A Hawk about to steal what was rightfully mine.
I left at midnight.
Leaving Hawksridge behind and driving at crazy speeds from Buckinghamshire to London, I counted the minutes until she’d be mine again.
I doubted she’d planned on this when she’d texted me last night. I couldn’t wait to see her face and for her to finally understand what’d changed in the month we’d spent apart.
There were three of us on the road.
Me, Kes, and Flaw.
They flanked me and had my back—just in case the Weavers got any ideas. After all, we’d bided our time to make them complacent, but I wouldn’t underestimate them again. Not after the sneaky fuck up Vaughn had created.
The entire journey, I thought about Nila’s text messages.
I grew hard again, knowing that soon she would belong to me and I could once again prove to my father that his leniency toward me was justified.
Nila was nothing to me. Not anymore.
Time flew as we tore through the night with a roar of engines and smoke. The smell of gasoline filled my nostrils.
I was high on octane, and soon I would be high on thievery.
I was stealing what was rightfully mine.
I was claiming her, exterminating her.
Her fate was mine. There was never any other way. No alternative ending.
She was a Weaver.
I was a Hawk.
This is it.
I was outside her house.
I killed the engine.
I WOKE TO a dangerous darkness.
My heart rate exploded the moment my eyes tore open.
He’s here.
I knew it as surely as I knew my name.
He’s in my room.
I couldn’t see him.
I couldn’t smell him.
But I sensed him.
Coldness and anger and bite.
“Jethro—?”
I blinked, peering into dark corners.
He’s come for me.
I knew it stronger than anything.
It’s not over.
But this time…I had a plan. I wasn’t the victim. I wasn’t some stupid girl who’d been sheltered by her family. I’d stared death in the face—I’d been in its clutches—and I knew how to survive.
“Hello, Ms. Weaver.”
His silky, icy voice whispered beneath my sheets, hardening my nipples to rocks. My core clenched, feeding off his power, getting wet on the sheer deliciousness of having him near.
Oh, God.
After so much time apart, he was visceral, mystical, mythical in his power over me.
He had a magic—a spell that softened me, even while fear percolated in my blood. I knew he wasn’t safe, knew that I ought to scream and stab him, rather than grow wet and want him.
But I’d made a pact. I will be the last Weaver.
I had the strength to stand up to Jethro and his family. He was mine. I just had to make him accept it.
“I told you I would come for you.”
The shadows twisted, revealing him as he stepped from the pitch black, moving closer toward my bed. He was dressed in leather and denim; an outfit I’d seen Cut and Daniel wear but never Jethro. He was no longer an aristocrat but a biker. The embroidery on his jacket glinted, and his large boots were whisper-quiet on the carpet. He looked like the devil—a deliciously dark sinner who’d come to ravage and possess me.
Another ripple of desire shot through my belly.
The closer he came, the more the past month faded. The lostness, the incessant vertigo, the lack of conviction I’d suffered ever since leaving just disappeared.
It was as if I’d never left Hawksridge. I couldn’t imagine why I would.
I can think why.
A torrent of torture and threats filled my mind. Cut and Daniel and Kes. They were my true enemies. Did I really want to go back there? I doubted I would get a second chance to escape.
I know what I have to do.
I knew how to end this. I knew how to save Jethro. And I was prepared to do anything to make that happen.
“Hello, Kite,” I murmured.
Jethro sucked in a breath, his chest expanding as he closed the final distance and towered over my bed. His heavy clothes couldn’t hide his sensual bulk. Every time he breathed, a soft creak of leather filled the silence. The thread used to stitch the diamond on his front pocket glinted in the moonlight.
I’d never seen him in full motorcycle regalia.
It did terrible things to my core. I couldn’t stop my craving—the heat in my blood or the wetness gathering between my legs. My mouth tingled to touch his, to bite his bottom lip and suck his tongue.
The room turned static. The hair on my arms stood up at the very thought of Jethro shrugging out of his jacket and climbing on top of me.
He swallowed, his eyes glittering dangerously. Holding up a small packet of powder, he whispered, “Do I need to drug you again, or will you come willingly?” He bent over me, his long fingers tracing my leg beneath the covers.
I trembled, frozen…desperate for him to drop the act and end the chilliness between us.
We’d been so close. Connected. Something sinister slipped over my thoughts. Something’s wrong.
“I asked you a question, Ms. Weaver.” His gaze dropped to my legs, his fingers tugging at the sheets. Inch by inch, he pulled, sliding the warmth down.
I didn’t say a word as he revealed my camisole, black satin shorts, and legs; the same legs itching to wrap around his hips while he took me hard.
“I missed you.” I couldn’t look away. The night beneath Hawksridge—the way he’d touched me in the springs and brought me back to life—made my heart swell.
He hadn’t said the words. But I’d felt his submission.
He’d fallen, too.
Just as hard as me.
Removing his hand from my covers, he tucked the drug packet back into his breast pocket. “Let me explain what will happen if you don’t honour your invitation and come with me.” His voice slipped into emotionless chill. “Vaughn and your father are asleep inside this house. They no longer have the interest of the press or media, and it would bring me great pleasure to teach your twin a lesson. Two seconds is all it would take to remove them from any future problems.” He bared his teeth. “They deserve it after the mess they’ve caused.”
Anxiety crept higher up my spine. His temper swirled around us as if we stood in the centre of a blizzard. I was used to that with Jethro. But whereas before I could sense something warm beneath his rage…now, there was nothing.
Touch him. Thaw him.
Swinging my legs out of bed, I gripped the edge of the mattress. “I said I would come with you and I meant it.” I did my best to hide my building terror. “Leave them alone. This is between you and me.” Taking a deep breath, I stood, bracing myself for a vertigo attack.
So many times over the past month, I would stumble whenever I stood. But this time…I remained stable.
My eyes widened, drinking in Jethro.
He does fix me.
He gave me too much to think about. Too much to analyse and read into. My brain was too frantic trying to see between his words to give into a useless imbalance.