I expected Jethro to shrug him off and punch him. Instead, he relaxed slightly, nodding as silent communication ran between thebrothers.
What the hell does Kes know about Jethro? And how does he use it so effortlessly to keep his brother calm?
Daniel stole my hand, running a sharp fingernail along the centre of my palm. I jumped, gasping in pain and surprise. I yanked my hand back, trying to dislodge the crazy creep.
No way did I want him infecting me.
A hand was the one part of a person’s body that touched so much. The first point of contact for new experiences. A five-fingered tool to get through life.
“Stop touching me.”
Jethro slapped his brother’s hand aside, allowing me to tuck my palm between my legs.
Cut growled, “Stop chitchatting and get it done. You have five seconds to decide where the tally will go, Ms. Weaver. Otherwise, I shall decide for you.”
Jethro sucked in a harsh breath, watching me from the corner of his eye.
Your fingers.
What? I shook my head at the idea. It was a stupid place for a tattoo.
It makes sense.
My reasoning laid out my conclusion in crystal clarity.
I intend to use my hands to slaughter them in the future.
If my fingers wore their mark—bore the signs of pain extracted at their whim—it was only fair that they extracted pain in return. My hands were currently virgins in murder, but soon they would smother in their blood.
It’s only fitting to wear their tally while I steal their lives.
My eyes fell on Jethro.
Even him?
I steeled my heart against whatever desire existed between us.
Even him.
Sitting straight, I announced, “My fingertips.”
Jethro scowled. “Out of anywhere on your body, that’s where you’ve chosen?”
I nodded. “Yes.” I spread my hands, silently cursing the shake in them. “One fingertip per debt.”
I just hope there aren’t more than ten to repay.
Daniel smirked again. “Not a place I would’ve chosen, but it does leave your body open for more marks in the future.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Put your hand on my leg, palm up.”
“I’m not touching you.”
Lightning quick, Daniel snatched my wrist, twisted my arm until my palm was as he requested, and slammed it against his thigh.
“Keep it there,” he ordered.
