Page 98 of Aine

“We’ve discussed you not speaking,” he reminds me, forcing me to look up and meet his gaze. “You keep making me punish you, Aine.”

The talk of punishment has me rearing back and trying to pull out of his hold. I don’t want to be hurt anymore. His fingers squeeze my cheeks before he drops my face and lowers his hand to my thigh.

His claws extend as he moves, the sharp nails scraping painfully against my exposed skin.

“If you stay quiet, I’ll only have to do this once,” he promises, sliding the nail straight into the fleshy skin of my thigh.

My jaw drops in a silent scream as he sinks his claw into me, the object easily puncturing my muscle. I pant as I force myself to remain quiet for my punishment.

An indescribable burn spreads along my thigh the deeper he sinks his nail, my skin feeling like it’s on fire. Every inch of my body is telling me to cry out, but I follow Owen’s orders and stay silent.

I’m covered in a cold sweat when he finally pulls his claw back out. He offers soft assurances and praise, but they mean nothing to me.

“We usually wait another day or two to do this, but you’re doing so well, I think you’re ready now.” Owen smears my blood around my thigh, drawing tiny designs with it.

I’m ready for what? My lips purse as he stands and kicks my legs until they’re spread. I try to fight him, wanting to keep my thighs together, but he easily overpowers my attempts and forces them apart.

“We’re going to free you of your sins by marking your wrongdoings on your thigh,” he says.

What?

I shake my head, not understanding what he’s saying. Owen doesn’t explain and looks excited as he pulls and tugs my limbs exactly where he wants them.

“If you’re good, I’ll bring you a covering for your body,” he promises.

My fighting ceases at the promise of clothing. I don’t like how the beasts stare as they pass, their eyes lingering on my breasts and thighs. My attempts to cover myself and hide are useless as my hands are tied to the pole behind me, and I’ve taken to tucking my knees into my chest and crossing my feet so they can’t see any part of me.

It’s not effective, but it’s the best I can do.

“I’m excited to hear your sins, Aine,” Owen admits. “We’ll start with why you were executed.”

How does he know about that? Owen’s smile teeters at my hesitation to answer, and with a loud sigh, he extends his claw and presses it into the skin next to the puncture wound he gave me earlier.

I shake my head and try to jerk away, not wanting to experience the pain of it entering my body again. He repeats his question, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument as he demands I tell him my secrets.

“I k-killed my husband,” I stammer as he begins sinking his claw in me.

It’s removed, and before I can register what’s happening, Owen’s grabbed my other leg and sliced open the inside of my thigh. I can feel the immediate wetness of my blood as it seeps out and pours onto the ground beneath me.

Owen lets me yank my leg free and press it against my chest, but the relief doesn’t last long as he wraps his arms around my frame. His hand makes me feel dirty as he runs it down my back in what seems like an attempt to soothe.

“You did so well. You’re such a good girl,” he whispers into my hair. “What else have you done?”

A loud sob slips from my lips as he continues with his sickening praise. I press my leg to my chest as tightly as I can, my cries growing louder as he puts it in a position to be sliced open once more. No. My head pounds with the speed at which I shake it, but Owen pays it no mind.

I feel sick as I look at what he did to my thigh. The cut is long, and it’s hard to see how deep it goes as it fills with blood. Is this what he meant when he said he would mark my sins in me?

“What else have you done, Aine?”

My head is empty, the words failing to come to my mind. Will he believe me if I tell him this was my only sin? Probably not. He’ll just punish me for lying and force more information out.

Owen’s patience visibly thins, his lips flattening and eyes narrowing.

My words are incoherent as I try to speak through my cries.

“I forced my mark on Damien.”

An abrupt laugh slips from Owen’s mouth, but he sobers quickly and uses his claw to tear open my skin again. He does it directly below the first slice, creating two parallel wounds.

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