Page 127 of The Harbinger

“Once more.” Mikhail grabbed the next stick and pressed it to her skin, renewing her cries.

He removed the second brass brand and tossed it in the bucket. “It’s done.”

Mia’s chin quivered as I wiped her tears away from her temples with my palm as he taped over her burned flesh. “Done?”

“Not yet.”

She sat up as I shucked off my suit jacket and unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my scarred back, then helped her slide off the table as she kept her arms across her breasts.

I took her seat as her eyes widened, my back to Mikhail. “Wha-what are you doing?” She grabbed my arm as she glanced over my shoulder.

“It wouldn’t be much of a binding if only you had it. Now would it?”

Mikhail swiped the fresh antiseptic over my shoulder blade, the cool breeze evaporating the alcohol. She grabbed my hand and winced, her shoulder dropping.

A grunt escaped my throat as the ice-cold burn shifted into stinging numbness. He’d pressed the brass to my skin without so much as a warning. The outline of the brand crawled with vicious ants, biting and stinging as though their lives depended on the fight. He pulled it away, and I grunted again when the second brand hit my smarting flesh.

When Mikhail finished the bandage, I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders and buttoned it, tucking it into my slacks, then my jacket as I ignored the searing pain.

“Why did you do that?”

“It was this, or let him take you. Would you have wanted that?”

She could say yes, but why would she?

Mia shook her head, and my shoulders lifted.

She could beg for the knife, beg for Ruslan to take her away from me, but she’d never be free. We made a vow together, sealed in blood, and offered eternity to my gods.

“Let’s get you home.”

I helped her pull her shirt over her head and settle her arms through the holes, her shoulder moving more freely than five minutes ago. “Home…”

Her hushed words sat like a fable in the air as if she didn’t believe my words.

“Yes. Home,milaya. Ourhome.”

I’d never let her know another.

We pushed through the throng of people who offered their intoxicated tithing day and night and into the SUV waiting where we’d left it. When I’d finished settling her into her space, I slid in beside her. Dmitri shut the door before taking his seat.

“It doesn’t hurt as much now.”

“Freeze branding doesn’t destroy all the layers of skin, and it heals faster than hot-iron branding too.”

Dmitri pulled off into the evening traffic as Mia pushed up the center console and slid over, laying her head on my shoulder.

“What would your father have done?”

I hung my head before looking out the window through the mirror-tinted glass. “His proclivities rival mine, but I am my papa’s son.”

“Is that a nice way of saying unspeakable things?”

Mia tilted her head up as I glanced at her, then pressed my lips to her forehead. “Da.”

“Then I guess I should be glad it was you at the sale then. Right?”

“If it were him, you wouldn’t have survived the flight.”

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