Page 74 of Debt of My Soul

The words Darrin speaks next cause me to shiver.

“Now we offer the horseshoe mark to Liam’s new wife, Fleur.”

Blitz stalks toward me, a sneer curling his lip, but Liam slaps an arm over his chest, stealing the branding tool from his hand.

My knees wobble and I’m afraid I’m going to faint. I can’t do this.

Liam approaches with slow, steady steps. He’s so close I have to tilt my head to look into his eyes. He takes my elbow and I glare at him, icy and cold.

“Please,” I beg. The reality of the moment is finally setting in.

Liam’s eyes dart around to the surrounding men with the barest hint of concern before his nostrils flare. He leans down close to my ear, his warm breath skirting along the rim and raising the baby hairs on my neck.

“Breathe, Fleur.”

I can’t. My breaths aren’t calm or unwavering. They’re a hiccupped mess.

“Trust me,” he says, pushing the branding iron into the hottest of flames, the iron rod glowing orange with rage.

My breath catches and I divert my eyes to the nearby pine trees, swaying in the wind. I’m shaking wildly and want to scream. But what good would that do? Probably only give Blitz and the other men something to fantasize about later, so I pinch my lips shut.

Liam moves the iron toward my wrist, using his other hand to turn it up, the underside exposed. His eyes snag on the healing welts already there and he pauses. I don’t look at him. It’s already taking every bit of my composure to stand here.

Laughter fades in and out, washing over me. The crackling fire draws my attention and I stare unblinking as it licks the night sky. Tears well in my eyes, and one slips from the corner, but I won’t let them fall. I continue to gaze at the tip of blue, dancing in the wind.

A rough thumb grazes the underside of my wrist. It’s delicate and thoughtful, everything this moment isn’t.

Liam shifts the iron, and my eyes follow the rod, finally making out its shape—a curved horseshoe, like a U with tapered ends. I flinch, twisting my wrist, but he holds fast. I search his gaze, desperate for something to anchor me, but his irises are dark, almost black, as he spreads his massive hand beneath my wrist.

“Whatever you do, hold still.”

Agony.

Pure agony sears through my body as the hiss of the iron burns into my skin. I scream in pain but keep my focus on the fire. What should be five seconds feels like a lifetime. When the iron pulls away from my skin, I bite my tongue so hard the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth. The pain. The pain is unbearable.

It takes even longer for me to look down at the new brand when he’s done. The new mark glows pink, smaller than a quarter, but placed carefully over the handful of welts.

Cheers, which at first sound like they are underwater, become clearer. Men hoot and holler, clinking glasses and offering smacks to Liam’s back. He gives them clipped nods and smirks in their direction.

Tears stream down my face. My wrist is on fire, but all I can think is that when it heals, I’ll be able to snap two new rubber bands right over this mark, and it hurts a bit less.

Chapter 29

Liam

Fleur’s tears threaten to undo me. I want nothing more than to shove this hot iron into Darrin’s blue eye. I reach into my pocket, pull out four painkillers, and dump them into her outstretched hand as she stares at her shaking wrist.

I’m glad Darrin agreed to the smaller one. There are three sizes. The brand on my ribs is the largest, and I can’t fathom inflicting that level of pain on her.

I didn’t miss the welts already on her wrist, nor did I buy her story about being a Girl Scout and always being prepared with rubber bands shit. She’s hurting herself, and I wonder who in the world made her feel like she deserved pain.

A woman hands me a bottle of water and I crack the top, then hold it out to her. Her eyes are clouded over, glassy and wet, and she keeps staring at the new mark on her delicate wrist.

She’s so beautiful. Even in pain.

“Fleur,” I demand. Her eyes snap to mine, and I swish the water in the bottle and gesture to the pills in her hand. For a minute, I think she might fight me on taking unknown pills, but she surprises me, popping the four ibuprofen into her mouth and chugging half the water.

I guide her to the clubhouse and push through the back door. One of the tables in the dining area has three sets of gauze and antibiotics as a preventative. A set for each of the three people getting a mark tonight.

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