Masculine laughter suddenly rose as one drunken club member fell face first into the punch bowl. His woman kept slapping him with the ladle as he proceeded to slurp up the spilled alcoholic liquid.
Nila smiled, sighing. “I’d like to say I’ve missed you, but that would be a lie.”
My back stiffened, but I forced myself to relax. Good for her.
I suppose.
“Seriously? What happened to you? Two weeks ago, you would’ve jumped down my throat and growled like a demented wildebeest. Now...nothing.” Nila placed her hands on her hips, glaring.
I drained my beer, placing the empty cup on the food-strewn table to our right.
She huffed, running her fingers through her hair. “Fine. Keep your freaky silence. I’m sure Kes would love to talk to me.”
Gathering the front of her skirt, she pranced away.
Kestrel.
Images of her spending so much time with him bombarded me. Despite the success of the conditioning session I’d had with Jasmine, I couldn’t seem to stop myself watching the footage of Nila drifting around the Hall and laughing with my brother.
They were close.
She didn’t trust him—the look of wariness never fully left her face—but she tolerated and enjoyed his company.
Unlike mine.
She accepted his gifts without suspicion, and never tried to antagonise him to the point of showing his true self.
Why did she accept his friendship yet go out of her way to rip me to shreds?
I gritted my teeth. Stupid question. The answer was plain and simple. I was her tormentor; Kes was her saviour. That was how this was always orchestrated. I should be happy it was working so flawlessly.
Plus, she was drawn to him because of the messages. The ruse of Kite007.
My hands curled. She’d let Kes waltz into her life, because she believed they had history. She might even believe he was ultimately on her side.
Silly, silly Weaver.
She hadn’t asked him outright yet. I knew that for a fact. Everything would change when she did.
I stood frozen as Nila traversed the small distance across the lawn toward Kes. He reclined in a deck chair, a cigar dangling from his fingers, his shirt open and showing his muscular stomach. Kes had always been stronger than me—more brawn than brains—but he’d also never used it against me unless it was in play.
Now, though, he played a dangerous game, deliberately drawing Nila away from me.
My teeth clenched as Kes opened his arms and Nila perched on the arm of his deckchair. He said something to her, and she giggled.
My stomach churned; elderberry and thistle flavoured bile crawled up my throat.
Every second I stood and witnessed the friendship that’d blossomed between my captive and brother sent my gut convulsing.
Every moment I watched, my ice steamed until I billowed with smoke.
I didn’t give myself permission to stomp across the garden.
I didn’t even notice I’d gone from standing to stalking.
And I definitely didn’t permit my body to bend and grab her wrist.
But that was what I did.
