Calculation radiated from his every pore.
I’d never been so intimidated or so intimately challenged.
My father might have permitted this, but he didn’t condone it. Somehow Jethro had achieved the unachievable and convinced my father he was dateable material. If he could manipulate Archibald ‘Tex’ Weaver, I didn’t stand a chance...and yet...despite the arrogance and chilly façade, he intrigued me.
My father had kept me captive my whole life. This was the first man to stand up to him and grant a glimmer of freedom.
The fear disappeared, leaving a flicker of interest. If this was the only man I could spend an evening alone with, I would take it. I would practice my non-existent flirting skills and grow my confidence so I could ask Kite007 out again. And next time, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Sucking in a gulp, I placed my hand gently into Mr. Hawk’s. His touch was as cold as his demeanour and just as strong. I froze as his fingers tightened around mine, tugging me forward. “Good decision, Ms. Weaver. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
My lungs dragged in his scent of leather and woods. Words deserted me.
The show disappeared along with my worry and thoughts of Kite007. Gone was the urge to return to an empty hotel room. Thisman was pure danger, and I’d never sampled anything but safety. “And you, Mr. Hawk,” I murmured.
My date smiled, transforming his face from handsome to ruthless. “Please, call me Jethro.” Changing our grip from handshake to handhold, he pulled me forward—away from my family, away from the men I’d known all my life, and toward a future I had no understanding of.
Vaughn’s hand fell from my lower back.
I didn’t look back.
I should’ve looked back.
I should never have placed my hand into that of a monster’s.
That was the last day of freedom. The last day that was my own.
Individuality and uniqueness—those two words were so precious once upon a time. I’d been brought up with a gruff but fair father and a brother who I would marry if it wasn’t incest, believing I was unique, different, never before created.
I hated being lied to.
I hated even more believing those lies until the truth decided to come for me.
Turned out, I was never an individual; I was a possession to trade.
I was never unique; someone had lived my life many times before, never free, never whole.
My life was never mine.
My destiny was already written.
My story began the night he came for me.
Chapter Three
Jethro
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IT WAS TOO easy.
I’d stolen her right before her father and brother. I’d taken her with no blood shed or bones broken.
Power wasn’t threats or uncivilised fighting. It wasn’t brawn or hard-won arguments.
Power was holding something so absolute, a man would do what he was told—all the while cursing your very soul. True power wasn’t wielded by gangs or even loudly-spoken governments.
True power.Limitlesspower—only graced a fair few. It gave those lucky ones the ability—the nobility, to be courteous and polite. All while holding their fucking balls in their hands.
