Beyond Ecstasy (Beyond #8) (8 page)

The conversation was clearly over. Jeni swallowed the urge to question the girl further, but she couldn't entirely quell her curiosity. No one had seen Hawk like this since…what?

Since who?

Luna pointed to a row of tall hedges at the edge of the garden. “And those are barberry bushes. The fruit's kind of sour, but it makes good jelly. Careful of the thorns, though.”

Barberry. It snagged against a memory, and Jeni closed her eyes. She could picture the pages she'd read, and she focused on one, from an old, dusty book Dallas had kept in storage, one filled with hand-drawn sketches and information. “You don't worry about wheat rust?”

“The strains of wheat we grow here are resistant to fungal infection,” Alya said from behind them. When they turned, she was studying Jeni again—the same measured assessment from the previous day. “Did you grow up on a farm?”

It took every ounce of self-discipline she had not to squirm. “I'm from the city. But I've been helping out with the gardening projects in Four.”

“Ah.” Alya didn't look away from her. “Luna, love, they need help getting the babies settled down for lunch. Could you run in and give them a hand?”

“Sure.” Luna spared Jeni a quick wave before weaving her way through the beds toward the house.

Just like that, she was alone with Alya and her withering scrutiny. The urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of her own nerves almost overwhelmed her, but Jeni pasted a polite smile on her face instead.

Alya tilted her head. “I was listening to the last little bit. You're looking for medicinal herbs?”

“Dallas thinks it would be a good precautionary measure in case of supply shortages.” The truth, such as it was, since he'd readily agreed with her when she'd brought it up.

“I see.” Alya turned and waved a hand. “Walk with me. I'll show you around.”

She headed around the side of the house, past a large, cabin-like structure closer than the other barns and sheds. It was huge, with several chimneys dotting the roof at regular intervals. “That's the smokehouse. We mostly cure pork, though we keep some cows and chickens to fill our own tables.”

Silence fell again, so heavy that Jeni's palms actually started to sweat. Which was the absolute height of
stupidity
, because so what if Hawk's mother disapproved of her? He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. And Jeni had never been ashamed of herself, or of anything she'd done, and she wasn't about to start now.

So why did it matter so much?

Alya stopped at the top of the next rise. Down in the gentle valley before them, people clustered around the new, yellow framework of a small building. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted up, along with the low drone of conversation and the occasional laugh or shout.

They were too far away for easy recognition, but Jeni spotted Hawk immediately. The way he moved was unmistakable, all leashed strength and control, whether he was raising a support beam into place or climbing into the cage for a fight.

Or touching a woman.

Jeni's cheeks heated. She'd never be able to look at another cluster of trees without picturing the moonlight filtering through the leaves or the shadows melding together to form the illusion of privacy. The association was imprinted on her brain now, along with all the things she'd discovered about Hawk—like the fact that he didn't just crave her submission, he got off on it. Hard.

The whole collar thing made a lot more sense now.

Alya shaded her eyes and stared down the hill. “They're putting up a new house. One of Shipp's boys finally coaxed one of Hawk's sisters into marrying his sorry ass, and we're out of bedrooms again. Bethany and her family are next up to get their own space, so that one'll be hers.”

Jeni still couldn't wrap her brain around how huge the families were. “There are so many children here.”

“My late husband took ten wives. Between us, we gave him fifty-five children. Hawk has forty-three brothers and sisters who made it to adulthood.” Alya dropped her hand and turned back to Jeni. “We didn't have Eden messing with our water, but the bastard still gave us fertility drugs. Twins and triplets were more efficient. More dangerous, but worth the risk. To him.”

It fit all too well with what Hawk had told her about his father. “But you only have Hawk?”

“Oh, they're all my children, more or less.” She smiled, but banked protective fury burned in her eyes. “We say it, and we mean it, for the most part. But I worry about him a little more than the rest. I always will.”

“Right.” Jeni rubbed her hands on her jeans. “You probably have questions.”

“Not so many.” Alya looked back out over the valley. “Hawk's been on his own for damn near twenty years now. So whatever has you so nervous, you should know I don't give a shit. All I care about is seeing him happy.”

There was an unspoken question in there somewhere—or maybe Jeni only heard one because she expected it. “The O'Kanes have a reputation for casual,” she said carefully. “But I think people just don't understand. None of it is casual. Ever.”

“Good, because neither is he.” Alya looked away, her lips tight, her eyes shuttered. “Hawk won't tell you this because he's loyal to a fault, but I was no kind of mother to him. I was too young, and then I was too broken. By the time I was strong enough to protect him, he didn't need it anymore, so no one's ever taken care of him. That's all I want, Jeni. Someone in his life who can take care of him.”

The man she knew was an island, a rock who kept himself carefully apart from the rest of the O'Kanes—whether through preference or necessity or sheer force of habit. “I can try,” she offered, “but I can't make him let me.”

“No,” Alya conceded. “He brought you here, though. That means something.”

“I think so. I
hope
so.”

“I know so.” Alya finally smiled. “You're the first one, honey. Ever.”

The first woman he'd brought home, maybe, but Luna's words played over and over in her mind.
I don't think anyone's seen him like this since
— “There was someone else once.”

“Someone—” Alya cut off with a sigh. “Who was it? Luna?”

The easy answer, but it wasn't the whole truth. Luna's slip was a piece of the puzzle, one Hawk had laid out for her himself, back in Four.
Not having you is bad. Not getting to keep you would be worse.
“Don't worry, she didn't tell me anything private.”

“I wish it
was
private, for his sake.” Alya gripped her shoulder. “Ask him, Jeni. You should know. Because it's not a pretty story, and he's the only one who doesn't come out of it looking like a villain—but that's never been how he saw it.”

“I will.” It was a promise she could make, because it was as much for her as it was for Hawk. If she was going to wear his collar, belong to him, then they had to be able to talk about things that had hurt them. It was the only safe way to exist in that space between sex and control, desire and pain.

“Good.” She ran her hand down to Jeni's and squeezed it. “Come on. I'll show you our setup for making medicine.”

“Thanks, Alya.” Jeni lingered for a moment anyway, just in case. Her hesitation was rewarded when Hawk turned, spotted them, and lifted his hand to wave.

She waved back, wishing they were back at the rally, hidden away in that little grove of trees. Sex was simple, easy. No matter how emotionally charged it was, in the end, it was about physical intimacy, giving and receiving pleasure.

There was nothing simple or easy about confronting the past.

She'd almost given up on Hawk when the pebble hit the guestroom window.

Jeni slid from beneath the covers and tiptoed across the floor. When she parted the curtains, he grinned up at her, one eyebrow raised in teasing challenge.

God help her, she couldn't resist that smile. She opened the window, wincing when it squeaked loudly, and stuck her head out. “You're late.”

“I had to make sure the coast was clear.” His grin only got wider. “C'mon, Jeni. Sneak downstairs so I can steal you away.”

There was no way she'd say no, and he knew it. She left the window open as she stripped off her nightgown and grabbed the sundress she'd laid out for the next morning.

Carrying her shoes in one hand, she crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the one that creaked. The last thing she needed was to start a chain reaction of crying babies and Hawk's sleepy-eyed relatives spilling out of their bedrooms.

He met her at the front door, holding it open as she slipped through and easing it shut in silence. His fingers brushed her shoulder and slid down as he leaned in close enough to whisper against her lips. “You'll be cold like this.”

Was there anything more delicious than when he unbent enough to tease her? “No, I won't,” she whispered back. “You dragged me out of bed, so it's your job to keep me warm.”

“I can do that.” His kiss was the barest caress, another tease. His lips found her chin next, then her jaw, and traced a slow, lazy path down her throat as he sank to one knee. Silently, he tugged one shoe from her grasp and held it for her.

The night air had nothing to do with the goose bumps on her flesh as she slipped her feet into the flats. “I'm glad you came. I missed you.”

“Nothing could keep me away.” Hawk caught her hand as he rose and twined their fingers together as thunder rumbled overhead. “Come on. I don't know how much time we have.”

It didn't take Jeni long to figure out what he meant. In the middle of their sprint through a field, the sky opened up. Rain pelted them, unexpectedly warm but relentless. Unforgiving.

They were drenched by the time Hawk pushed open the barn door and ushered her into its dry, dark refuge. Squeezing out her braid sent another torrent of water rushing down her arms, and Jeni bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “This is sexy,” she said as she turned. “We both look like drowned—”

The words died on her tongue. Hawk didn't look waterlogged or bedraggled or anything else that would have been just and fair. He looked perfect, even with water dripping out of his hair and plastering his shirt to his chest.

His gaze drifted down her body, lingering on all the places where her dress clung to her curves. “I'm not complaining,” he murmured, already reaching for her. “But we should get you out of this wet dress anyway. Just to be safe.”

His hands burned where he touched her. “You didn't have to lure me out into the rain to get me naked, you know.”

“I know.” He gathered the fabric at her hips and worked it up slowly. “But I like you like this. A little disheveled.”

“Or a lot.” She spun out of his grip. “You're distracting me.”

“Am I?” He caught her with a low laugh and dragged her against him so tightly that his erection pressed against her lower back. “From what?”

His bold arousal shook her resolve. It would be easy to let it slide, to slip back into the pleasure and discovery they'd enjoyed the night before. But what Hawk wanted—what
she
wanted—was something beyond sex, and this was the only way to make that happen.

She turned and looked up at him. “Why did you have to leave Six?”

Hawk froze. His mouth pressed into a stern line and his brow furrowed, but after a moment he ran his fingers through his wet hair, shoving it back from his forehead. “Let's find some blankets. I don't want you catching a chill.”

He led her deeper into the barn, pausing to gather a few blankets tossed over the dividers between stalls. He spread one over a low platform of hay bales and wrapped a second around her shoulders. “Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“Whichever one matters to you.”

“The long story, then.” He sat and tugged her down beside him. “Remember that farm I pointed out on the way in? The Anderson place?”

Remembering the place did what the rain and chilly air couldn't, and Jeni shivered. “Yes.”

“When I was...I don't know, nineteen or twenty? There was a drought that year, and Anderson's southern wheat field caught fire. We all had to go out and try to contain it, because it could have swept onto our land. Everyone was out there, men and women and any child old enough to carry a bucket.” He sighed. “And that's how I met her. Caroline. Anderson's seventh wife.”

It was the last, breathtaking piece of that puzzle. Suddenly, the whole awful story stretched out in front of Jeni like a movie, a thousand possibilities and eventualities playing out in her mind at once. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed. His lips curved into a wry, tired smile. “It's not unusual, you know. One of my elder brothers fell in love with my youngest stepmother. They never moved past longing looks and hand-holding, but my father found out and ran him off the farm.”

Pain wreathed the words, the kind that clenched around the pit of Jeni's stomach and squeezed. “I'm sorry.”

He wrapped one hand around hers. “You can probably figure out the rest. Caroline and I went way past hand-holding. Got away with it for almost a year. But when we were caught out…” Hawk trailed off with a shrug. “I tried to get her to run with me, but she was too damn scared. Scared we wouldn't make it, or that it would just make the punishment worse when Anderson finally got his hands on her.”

Jeni would have bet all her money that the penalty for adultery—no matter the circumstances—was steep. “What happened to her?”