CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(145)

Tugging my hand into his lap, Jethro murmured, "I meant what I said on  the plane. Play your part and you'll live to see another sunrise."

Something snapped inside as if the drug suddenly gave up its hold on me,  along with everything I'd been trying to avoid. The tears, the fears,  the constant worrying of what was to come.

It all disappeared.

I couldn't afford to drain my energy with useless wonderings. Jethro  said I could work. I intended to drown myself in fabric and continue  designing my next runway show. I would pretend my world hadn't become a  monster-filled nightmare, and lock my mind in a place where it was safe.  Mundane was safe. Routine was safe.

I would create a sewing room deep in my soul and ensure no one-including  the numerous activities Jethro had planned-could ever ruin me.

And talk to Kite.

My heart thumped. He wasn't kind or a sympathetic ear to cry to. But I  was glad. I didn't want someone to pat my back and make me feel worse  with commiseration. I needed someone to tell me to buck up, keep going,  and never wallow in darkness.

Kite didn't know it yet, but I planned to use him as my barometer of  liveliness. If I could muster up the energy to flirt and chat and  pretend everything was okay, I had the strength to continue. The moment I  used him as an outlet to purge whatever Jethro did to me, I would know I  needed to re-centre myself and dig deeper to stay true.

Jethro let my hand go, tossing it away almost violently.

I breathed a sigh of relief, then stiffened as his fingers latched around my upper thigh.

Whispering harshly, he said, "Keep watching the horizon, Ms. Weaver.  You're about to see your new home." His hand crept up my leg, following  the same path his brother had-freezing my exposed skin with his  icicle-like fingers. "Don't take your eyes off the windscreen. You  behave and I'll make sure you have somewhere warm to sleep tonight. You  disappoint me and you'll sleep with the dogs."

I bit my lip, eyes flaring wide.

Sleep in a kennel? Shit, Nila. You couldn't be any more stupid.

All this time I'd braced myself for sexual payments-bodily taxes and  unwanted attention-but in reality I hadn't stopped to think about the  bare essentials of living. There was so much more Jethro could do to me  than torment my body.

He could deprive me of nutrition.

He could prevent me from sleeping.

He could make me live in squalor and suffer illness after illness.

Daniel stayed facing the front, ignoring us. I risked my first question since the airport bar.

"You aren't just going to use me. Are you?" My voice sounded strange after not speaking for so long.

Jethro stilled, his fingers twitching on my inner thigh. "So naïve.  You're worse than a pet. You're like a child. A loveless girl who knows  nothing of the big, bad world." Breathing shallow, his hand moved higher  and higher. "Pity I'm not turned on by little girls. Pity you don't get  me hard, my loveless, clueless Weaver. Then you might've been prisoner  in my bed."

In front of us, the car's headlights illuminated a driveway. The  woodland stopped, giving way from thicket to a huge expanse of manicured  lawn and a large oval fountain. Birds of prey replaced angels and fair  maidens, their talons dancing on top of water spray.

Jethro's hand burned, never stopping his slow assault. My heart  jack-knifed, pain shooting in my chest as panic replaced my blood. I'd  wanted sexual contact for so long but not like this. Not taken. Not even  wanted.

The car slowed, skirting around the fountain. We turned left, following the sweeping driveway.

And that was when I saw it.

The monstrosity that was my so-called new home.

The rising monolithic, French turreted, tower fortified, sweeping,  soaring mansion. Tarmac turned to gravel beneath the tyres, pinging  against the metal panels below. Jethro's fingers crept higher, demanding  I pay attention to everything he did.

"Welcome to Hawksridge Hall, Ms. Weaver. It's going to be a pleasure  entertaining you as my guest." The sentence wrapped around me like a  noose; my eyes snapped closed as his fingers brushed my core. Firm,  unyielding, he cupped me through my knickers, sending snow to my womb  with his vile fingers.         

     



 

I bit my tongue, hating him. Hating myself. Hating everything to do with debts and vendettas and family feuds.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Jethro whispered, pressing harder,  forcing the seam of my knickers into my sensitive, barely experienced  pussy.

Everything clenched, repelling against his awful ministrations.

I tore my eyes open. "Not like this." Dropping my voice, I locked eyes with him. "Please, not like this."

The car rocked to a stop.

Daniel looked over his shoulder, his gaze dropping to the blatant  position of Jethro's hand between my legs. He smirked. "Welcome to the  family. Don't know how much you've been told about us, but forget  everything." His teeth glinted in the pooling light from the mansion.  "We're much worse."

Jethro stroked me, drifting down to where the silk of my underwear gave a  little, pressing against my entrance. "He's right. Much worse."

I shuddered as his finger bit into me. The unhurried, controlled way he  touched me twisted with my mind. His violation was different than his  brother's. Still not wanted, but at least more easily tolerated.

He was the devil I knew. Not the devil I didn't. In a morbid way, that made Jethro my ally rather than tormentor.

"I'll look forward till we meet again, Weaver." With another smirk, Daniel shoved open his door and disappeared.

Jethro's fingers rocked into me, but I refused to give him any  reaction-neither upset nor regret. Sitting with my hands balled, I  asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Jethro chuckled. "The ultimate question. And now that we're home, you're  about to be told." Removing his hand, he opened the car door and  climbed out.

All the blood in my body rushed between my legs-almost as if every  molecule needed a cleansing-searching for relief from the hot, cold,  tempting, vile way he'd touched me.

He looked so elegant in his dark grey suit, so refined with the glint of  diamond on his lapel. Why did someone so horrid look so beautiful? It  wasn't fair. Nature's cruel irony. In jungles, birds died from being  attracted to the gleam of cavernous flowers. In rainforests, snakes and  omnivores succumbed to toxin-riddled-jewelled frogs.

Beauty was the ultimate arsenal. Beauty was meant to deceive. It was  meant to trick and beguile so their prey never saw death coming.

It worked.

And to a woman who made her life creating beauty for others and never  being granted the ease of naturally acquiring it, Jethro was a double  threat, both to my ego and lifespan.

Turning back to offer me his palm, Jethro waited for me to accept his token of help.

I ignored him.

I wasn't naturally a defiant person, but there was something about him  that made me become a brat. Pushing off the seat, I propelled myself  awkwardly and stiffly to the open door. The moment I was in grabbing  distance, Jethro snatched my wrist and jerked me from the vehicle.

Of course, standing for me was already a careful affair, mixed with an  unknown substance that'd hijacked my motor controls, I didn't land on my  feet.

With a cry, I tripped out of the SUV, sprawling face first on the gravel  below. The car suddenly cranked into gear and drove off. Leaving me  alone and bruised before a manor worth millions.

"What on earth?" The gruff exclamation came from above-different from  Jethro's deep timbre, but powerful and full of supple authority.

"Goddammit, this is getting ridiculous," Jethro muttered. "Are you going to be like this all the time?"

His strong hands lassoed around my waist, yanking me to my feet. The  moment I was vertical I blinked, trying my hardest to find an anchor and  remain standing. The world steadied and I shook Jethro's lingering hold  off my hipbone. "Yes, I'm ridiculous. Yes, I've suffered all my life.  Yes, I know it's a huge inconvenience for someone who wants to kill me  that I'm already a little bit damaged, but did you stop to think-just  once-that the reason I'm struggling more than normal is because of the  stress you're loading my system with?

"Have you never dealt with an upset stomach or a tension headache?"  Waving my hand in his face, I snapped, "It's the same thing. My body  doesn't handle upsetting circumstances well. Get over it or let me the  hell go!"

It felt wonderful to let go of the anger bubbling inside. It purged me a little, giving me room to breathe.

Jethro remained steadfast, his eyes wide, mouth thin and unamused.

"Well, she has fight. All the fun ones did."

The man who'd spoken stood on the second-to-last step of a humongous  portico. The house loomed overhead, blotting out the moon and stars as  if it were a living entity. Burnished copper gilded the many roofs and  turrets, criss-crossing flowerbeds lived beneath soaring lead-light  windows, and lattice planted grass grew on the side of the turrets. It  wasn't just a building-it was alive. Maintained, proud, a piece of  impressive architecture that had weathered centuries, but been so well  cared for.