He has none.
Tearing my eyes from his, I glowered at the table. Standing tall, I embraced my nakedness. I throbbed with righteousness. I trembled with indecency.
I hated what I wore. It covered nothing and was theirs. I wanted nothing to do with them. I wanted to refuse their food, spit out their water, and burn their clothes. Not that they’d offered me any.
With suddenly steady hands, I tore the French maid’s cap off my head. I threw it down the table. The satin wood let it slide all the way to the centre where it rested like a stain, a sin—a simple innocuous thing screaming of wrongness.
The men didn’t move.
Fumbling at the ties around my neck, I pulled the hated pinafore over my head and balled it up. Standing proud, naked—showing off my bruises from vertigo and tongue smears from bastards—I spoke. “Look at you. Look at how masculine and powerful you are.” Pointing my finger around the table, I growled, “Look at how scary and dominating and strong you are. Look at howproudyou must be. You proved you’re invincible by taking advantage of a woman brought here against her will. You used a girl who has to live her worst nightmares to protect those she loves.”
Stabbing myself in the chest, I whispered, “Wait...I got it wrong.You’renot the strong ones.Iam. You’re weak and disgusting. By doing what you did, you gave me more power than I’ve ever had before. You gave me a new skill—a skill at ignoring you because you’re nothing. Nothing.Nothing!”
“And you!” I swung my arm, gaze zeroing in on Jethro. The oneman who held my life in the palm of his hand. He was nothing. Just like his brethren of bastards.
Jethro stood taller, a shadow darkening his face. His hands came out of his pockets, crossing in front of his large chest.
“You...” I seethed. “You think you’re the baddest one here. You think I’ll cower. You think I’ll obey.” Running both hands through my hair, I shouted, “I’llnevercower. I’llneverobey. You’ll never break me, because you can’t touch me.”
Spanning my arms, I presented my naked form as a gift—the gift he’d hinted at wanting but hadn’t taken. “I’ll never be yours even though you own my life. I’ll never bow to you because my knees don’t recognise your so-called power. So do your worst. Hurt me. Rape me. Kill me. But you’ll never ever own me.”
Breathing hard, I waited.
The room had remained silent. But now it filled with rustling of leather as men shifted in their seats. The atmosphere went from shocked silence to heavy anticipation.
My overworked heart kicked into another gear, sending my vision a little grey, a little fuzzy.Please, not now.
Planting my legs, gripping the soft carpet beneath my toes, I locked my knees against a wave of vertigo.
Mr. Hawk was the first to move. He placed his elbows on the table, linking his fingers together. “I was wrong. You’re nothing like your mother. She had a brain. She was smart.” His voice dropped the chivalrous country man edge, deepening into violent snaps, “You, on the other hand, are wilful and stupid. You don’t see thatweare your family now. The moment you slept under my roof you became a Hawk by means of acquisition.”
I laughed. “I’m still a Weaver then because I didn’t sleep under your roof.” My kitten claws sharpened. I’d never been a fighter, but something called to me. Something intoxicating and lethal.
He leaned forward, anger etching his face. “Youwilllearn your place. Mark my words.”
I wanted to fight. I’d listened to their damn history lessons, it was time they listened to mine. “I may not have records so perfectly kept as yours, but I do know my family is innocent. Whatever happened back then was between them—not us. Leave it in the past. My family created a business of making clothes. We dressed the royal court but also donated to the poor. I’m proud of where I’ve come from and for youto—”
“Jet!” Mr. Hawk pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shut her up.”
Jethro immediately slammed a hand over my mouth.
I froze. I knew I’d brought whatever punishment was about to happen upon myself. I couldn’t blame anyone, but I wouldn’t let myself regret what I’d said. I believed I was a good person. So were my twin, father, mother, and ancestors.
“You just had to push,” Jethro hissed. “I’m going to draw blood for this.”
My heart rabbited but I forced myself to remember one important fact.
They can’t hurt you too much.
There would be pain. There would be agony. But they meant to keep me alive. I had debts to repay before my life was stolen.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Mr. Hawk, ordered, “Jethro. Teach this woman that Hawks are a forgiving family but there are times when strictness is required in lieu of allowing little tantrums like this to occur.” His eyes switched from mine to his son’s. “Take her. Deal with her. I don’t want to see her again until she’s lost the misplaced righteousness she seems to think she’s owed.”
Jethro nodded, jostling our bodies. His fingers unglued from around my mouth and he grabbed my wrist. Every part of me shrank from his overbearing body and granite golden eyes, but I forced myself to stand tall.
I growled, “Whatever you do won’t matter. What happened before willneverhappen again.” I would never let my body rule my mind no matter what he did. “You may be able to hurt me but you should know how pathetic it is for a man to hurt a woman. That isn’t power. It’s a weakness!”
He grunted under his breath. “Motherfucking Christ.” His temper increased until the large room pulsed with it.
