Turning off the gun, I placed it back in the box.
Cut clapped his hands. “Perfect. I’m so glad the formalities have been completed.” Glaring at Jethro, he added, “Don’t forget next time,son.”
Jethro scowled, climbing to his feet. “Are we dismissed?”
Dismissed? Not only was the word choice like an obedient child seeking approval to leave his elders, but his voice sounded odd. Strained, gruff—an explosive blend that seemed as if he’d detonate at any moment.
“Fine.”
Without another word, Jethro stormed out, leaving me alone with Cut, Daniel, and Kes.
What the hell?
I might not like him, but I was his. I needed him to protect me from his bloody family.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the room changed. It rolled thick and heavy: testosterone, possession, vileness. Why didn’t I feel it as strongly when Jethro was by my side? And why had he left in such a hurry without me?
Daniel took the opportunity of my stunned state to lean forward and grab my hair. Whispering evilly in my ear, he said, “The way you watch my brother gives away your feelings, Ms. Weaver. I know you want to fuck him. I know you’re horny living in a house full of men as powerful as my family. But you won’t get to fuck him; not until we’ve all had our fill. He’s the firstborn, but he’ll be the last to stick his cock inside that sweet little pussy of yours.”
Wrong, you arsehole. He’s the only one who will touch me that way.
I struggled, trying to pull away. Cut watched us, neither interfering nor caring.
Daniel’s tongue lashed out, licking around my earlobe. “I’ve seen you wandering around Hawksridge as if you own the place. Next time you’re out for a stroll, you might want to worry about who’s waiting. Because believe me—I’m not a patient guy. The minute you’re alone and I find you—I’m fucking you. I don’t care about the rules.”
Pulling back, he stood with a horrible smile on his face. “Until then, Ms. Weaver.” Tipping his head as if he had a top hat on his greasy black hair, he smiled at his father and Kes then disappeared out the door.
Oh, my God.
My heart was a fluttering mess. I’d been so stupid to believe I was untouchable. Believing the airs and graces of Cut and timelines of tradition.
I supposed I was grateful to the little creep for opening my eyes. I wasn’t safe here—from anyone, at any time.
I need a weapon.
I needed some way to protect myself from that psychopath.
Ask Jethro to protect you.
I shook my head. Jethro wasn’t the one in charge. Not yet. And besides, he was on my hit list as much as his family. I wasn’t loyal to him. I could never be loyal to someone who made me despise myself.
I stood up, hissing as my new tattoo flared. Summoning whatever strength I had remaining, I glared at Cut and Kes. “Tell Daniel if he comes near me again, I’ll make him bleed.”
Without a backward glance, I left.
* * * * *
A weapon.
Find a weapon.
I could run to the kitchen and steal a knife. Or I could head to the library and swipe a sword hanging from the walls. Or, if I had any musket understanding, I could commandeer a gun and hide it beneath my covers.
What I really needed, however, was something deadly but also transportable. I never intended to be defenceless again. Not in these walls.
Dashing down the corridor, I plotted where I should go. Weapons existed all over Hawksridge Hall. I hadn’t bothered to pilfer one because Jethro hadn’t given me a reason to fight—other than verbally. Daniel, on the other hand, wouldn’t touch me—not without walking away missing a few vital pieces of his anatomy.
The dining room would be my best hope at selecting something sharp and small enough to hide on my person. I’d seen a ruby-handled dirk there last time. It would be perfect and easy to conceal.
