KITE007: COME TO bed.
Needle&Thread: I’m working. Almost finished on this dress.
Kite007: I don’t care. Come to bed. My cock is hard. My arms are empty. I want to fuck you.
Needle&Thread: So bossy.
Kite007: And you’re back to being a tease with your naughty nun outfit.
Needle&Thread: I’m neither a tease nor a nun. For your information, I’ve been designing a very important outfit tonight.
Kite007: Teasing again. I might have to come down there and spank you.
Needle&Thread: You can spank me, but not here. You’re not allowed to see.
Kite007: Now I’m hard and pissed off. What are you hiding from me?
Needle&Thread: My wedding dress, oh so impatient husband-to-be. Or did you forget about our marriage next week?
Kite007: Fuck. Say that again.
Needle&Thread: What? Marriage? Wedding Dress? Husband-to-be? I’m going to be your wife soon; you have to stop being so demanding by text message. Otherwise, I’ll just delete your number.
Kite007: Your teasing is driving me insane. I’m touching myself, Needle. I want you lips where my hand is and my tongue between your legs.
Needle&Thread: I want that, too.
Kite007: Come to bed.
Needle&Thread: I have a better idea. Come find me. Come claim me. Come fuck me as your naughty nun before I become your wife.
Kite007: Your wish is my command…better start running, little Weaver. I won’t be gentle when I find you.
Three Months Before…
HAWKSRIDGE HALL REMAINED the same but slowly evolved as more minutes passed. Furniture that’d seen countless generations bound by contracts were no longer clouded with debts and ill wishes. Drapes and tapestries that’d witnessed countless days of sadness, suddenly looked upon freedom. Weavers lived with Hawks and no debts or screams collected.
Rooms were transformed, Bonnie’s parlour renovated, and the drab and dreary aura dispelled.
Bonnie had done a lot of wrong, but training Jasmine was not one of them. My sister’s lessons were exemplary and together we took on the mammoth task of running the estate.
I was heir but I willingly shared the role. Primogeniture and old-fashioned standings had no bearing on us anymore.
Together, we patched up the Hall and put bygones with bygones. However, there was one thing I had to do myself. The hastily-written Will and video declaration from Cut superseded the previous ruling of his death ever being suspicious. I travelled on my own to a new lawyer firm. Not the ones who’d looked after my family’s interests and debt catalogue for generations. I had plans for that firm. I would deal with them soon enough.
In the meantime, I wanted new contacts—above board and legal.
After shadowy background and vague description of my father’s wishes, I lodged the updated version with them with their assurances they would ensure Hawksridge and my future wouldn’t be harmed.
One more thing off my list, but so many still to go.
I also strengthened our alliance with the local authorities to ensure no more nasty misunderstandings and assured them Vaughn’s prank with social media and public nuisance wouldn’t happen again.
Returning to the Hall, I sought out Nila for comfort.
Whenever we were apart, dealing with life and difficulties, I missed her. Without even realising it, she’d become my world, my salvation, and my heart never stopped skipping whenever she was close.
My quarters were empty without her. My arms were useless without her in them.
The past couple of months, I’d grown used to having her in my bed, showering in my bathroom, and leaving her half-finished creations in little heaps around the room.
She had quirks I found endearing. Habits I adored.
I fucking loved her.
Everything about her.
My condition hadn’t grown easier to bear. Leaving the estate and dealing with strangers was the hardest part. Listening to emotions I had no right to listen to. Feeling arguments and worry from people I didn’t know stripped me bare, ensuring I drained Nila when I had her back in my arms.
I couldn’t watch TV or relax with a movie. I barely tolerated music.
But Nila tolerated me.
For some reason, she didn’t mind when I told her to be quiet and just let me hold her. She didn’t argue when I took her silently to bed and teased her mercilessly so I could settle into the lust and desire she felt for me.
She gave me everything with nothing barred.
She made me more whole and centred than I’d ever been.
She made me…better.
THREE MONTHS HAD passed since everything ended.
Three months since Kestrel died.
Three months since Jethro stopped his birthright and the Debt Inheritance.
Jethro dealt with lawyers and other estate business. Jasmine ran the household. My father helped clear away evidence of the ballroom bloodbath and paid the mercenaries who had helped save my life.
We were all busy, traipsing onward, living…
Hawksridge was no longer a mausoleum housing smugglers and psychopaths—its halls were now light and airy, its rooms full of tentative laughter and love.
Spinning my black diamond engagement ring, I smiled. We hadn’t set a date yet but life had been good to us. Tex had renewed his efforts to find Jacqueline, and Vaughn had been a regular visitor to see Jasmine. We’d all found a place within this new world.
A gentle tap on the greenhouse octagon door wrenched my head up.
Jethro had left me for an hour to deal with more paperwork. The requirement of running such a large estate was never ending.
I would be lying if I said entering the muggy warmth had been easy. The scars on my back twinged. The crack of the whip as Jethro hit me for the First Debt hovering in the stagnant air.
Orchids and white jasmine perfumed the air, granting peace where before there’d been only pain. I hadn’t been back since that day, but it didn’t give me nightmares with unresolved issues.
I found closure by trailing my fingers on the post where Jethro had tied me. I smiled softly as I weaved old memories with new—knowing my plan of making him care had worked.
We’d begun this as enemies, fighting against each other.
But we’d ended up as partners, stopping the war side by side.
The tapping noise came again, hidden by foliage on the other side of the octagon.
I stood up just as Jethro stepped into the room, his golden eyes more amber honey in the gentle sunshine of the glasshouse.
“I looked for you in our wing.” Jethro’s gaze narrowed on the whipping post in the centre of the octagon. Newly budded flowers and juvenile vines helped hide its original occupation. “I never expected to find you in here.”