His gaze ensnared me; I glowered back.
The animosity between us was rife tonight, unable to be buried beneath the rotting veneer of respect and mutual alliance to never challenge each other again.
The last time we did, one of us walked away broken and the other almost didn’t walk away at all.
Dessert was brought in, some raspberry soufflé affair. The matriarch of our family finally decided to show her face from her private wing at Hawksridge.
Bonnie Hawk might’ve looked bonny in her day, but she was well past her prime. At ninety-one, she moved painfully and with difficulty—the stubborn cow refusing to use a wheelchair or even a cane to get around.
“Hello, my son.” She nodded at Bryan Hawk then looked to Kes, Dan, and me. “Hello, my grandbabies.”
Daniel rolled his eyes, Kes shot up to help her into a chair, and I smiled the signature ‘warm-but-not-too-warm’ smile I’d perfected since I was ten. “Hello, Grandmamma,” the three well-trained Hawk boys said in unison.
Bonnie sat, snapping her fingers for the unobtrusive staff to ladle her plate with the raspberry sweet. She placed an over-piled spoon into her mouth.
Her brown eyes landed on mine. “Tell me, Jet. How are things going with the latest Weaver?”
My back straightened as my cock twitched unbidden. That damn fucking witch had ruined me. I only had to hear the word Weaver and I became fucking hard.
That’s why you’re avoiding her.
Another reason, I admitted.
I scowled.
Swallowing my one and only mouthful of soufflé, I smiled tightly. “She’s a work in progress, Grandmamma.”
My father jumped in. “The little brat had the audacity to speak back after her welcome luncheon. The cheek of her. If she was mine to discipline, she would be missing a body part by now.”
He spoke the truth. I’d seen what he’d done to Nila’s mother, and I fucking hated him for it.
The venison in my stomach rolled as a wash of ferocious rage exploded through my blood. I stabbed my butter knife into the table. “Thank fuck she’s not yours to torment, then. It so happens I like my women whole.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I froze.
The table froze.
The fucking candles flickering on the sideboards froze.
Shit.
Bryan Hawk steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowed and dark. “That was a rather uncalled for outburst. Do you want to rephrase that, perhaps?” He never looked away.
My palms grew slick with sweat. I hadn’t meant to show what I’d kept hidden successfully for years. My true nature was not tolerated in the Hawk family—even by my fucking grandmother, who by all rights should encourage us to be gentle and forgiving—not keeping alive a ridiculous debt over a family that made a few mistakes hundreds of years ago.
Fuck, I need time alone.
I needed to get myself under control, before I dug a grave worse than the one I just did.
When my jaw refused to unlock, my father muttered, “Maybe I’ve put too much responsibility on you, Jet. Are you taxed already? Maybe I overestimated you, and Kes or Daniel should share your workload?”
Something slithered across my soul.
Daniel snickered. “Give her to me, Pop. I’ll make sure I don’t let you down.” His eyes danced with evil. “Unlike some.”
We glowered at each other; he tried to intimidate me but didn’t succeed. He never succeeded. Fucking twat.
Tension crackled around the table. Kestrel stopped shovelling food into his mouth long enough to say, “You know Jet is the best man for the job. I’ve never seen him fail you yet, Pop. Give the bloke a chance.” Giving me a conspiring look, he added, “She’s highly strung and goddamn beautiful. Can’t blame a man for wanting to enjoy the chance to break such a filly.”
Goddammit, what the hell does that mean?
My temper raged beneath my thin exterior of ice. Lately, I was a fraud. A hypocrite, just like Nila said. The coldness inside was mysteriously missing. The blissful uncaring, the emotional detachment I’d been forced to live with since my father taught me how to behave was gone—almost as if someone had flicked a switch.
Before, I felt nothing. I permitted my senses to neither care, nor feel hate, nor feel happiness. I was blank, blessedly blank and strong. Now, I felt everything. I overthought everything. I wanted to murder every man I lived with purely because I wasn’t what they’d groomed me to be.
I fucking hated it.
And I hated that Kestrel—my one ally who knew the truth about me—was pushing my damn buttons. “If you think a speech like that will get you near her, think again. Good try, brother, but I’m watching you.”
Kes grinned. “We’ll see. After all, she’s ours. Not just yours. Our adoptive pet, if you will. Can’t help it if the pet prefers someone else than the original owner.”
My hand clenched around the butter knife.
“Enough,” my father snapped. It echoed around the room, bouncing off the images of our forefathers.
“I expect you to do the First Debt before the week is out, Jet,” my grandmother said, her lips covered in clotted cream.
I swallowed in disgust. “Yes, Grandmamma.”
Cut, my father, muttered, “Do what you think you need to do, Jethro. But mark my words…I’m judging your every move.”
Judge me, you bastard. Watch me behave just as you’ve taught. Watch me be the perfect Hawk.
I would make sure to give him something to judge.
Tonight, I would ‘fix’ myself. Tonight, I would smooth away the chaos that Nila fucking Weaver had caused and find that saviour of snow.
Cut continued to watch me as he spooned dessert into his mouth. “Make me proud, son. You know what you need to show her and what needs to be done afterward.”
Forcing my hand to uncurl around the knife, I placed it slowly on the table. Swallowing the overwhelming emotions that had no place in my world, I muttered, “I’ll make you proud, father.”
Cut relaxed into his chair.
Instantly, a wash of relief fell over me. It had always been the same. I lived with a family of devils. I was one year away from being emperor to them all, yet I still craved my elders’ respect.
The kid inside never fully got over the need to impress—even though deep down he knew it was an impossibility.
“We’ll be watching, Jethro. You don’t want to disappoint your family.”