She fought the compulsion, grit her teeth against the command, until her jaw ached and finally, "I'm yours." The words came out broken, defeated.
"Again."
"I'm yours."
His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer until barely a breath separated them. "Forever?"
"Forever."
"Good girl." He released her so suddenly she might have fallen if not for the wall behind her. "Now you're properly dressed for your new home."
"The mark," he said suddenly. "Show me."
"You've seen it."
"Not properly. Not since it's settled." He gestured imperiously. "Come here."
"No."
"That word is becoming tedious." He didn't move, but suddenly Thaine was in the doorway again, leaning against the frame with obvious interest. "Ah, perfect timing."
"You called, my lord?"
"Our guest is being shy. Perhaps you could assist—"
"I'll come." The words tasted bitter, but the thought of Thaine's hands on her again made her stomach twist. She approached the throne on unsteady legs. The mark pulsed with each step, warm and satisfied to be drawing closer to its maker.
"The wrist," Eliam commanded.
She extended her arm. He caught it, fingers circling just above the mark. His touch was cold enough to burn, and she bit back a gasp.
"Beautiful," he murmured, tracing one thorn with his thumb. "It's grown since I gave it to you. See how it winds? Seeking."
"Seeking what?"
"Complete ownership." His grip tightened. "It won't stop until every inch of you bears my claim. Some take years. Some take days. Depends on how much they fight."
She tried to pull back, but his hold was iron.
"Thaine," he said without looking away from her wrist. "What do you think? Should we expedite the process?"
"Could be entertaining," the huntsman drawled. "Though the natural spread is more... artistic. I find it far more entertaining watching them slowly realize they can't stop it."
“Mm. Perhaps." Eliam released her suddenly, and she stumbled back. "We'll see how well she adjusts. If she's very good, I might let the mark spread naturally. If not..."
He didn't finish, but the vines creeping across the floor made his meaning clear.
"Your rooms," he said, sounding bored now. "Thaine will show you. Try not to wander. The castle doesn't like strangers, and I'd hate for you to get lost. The between-spaces can be... unpleasant."
"My lord," Thaine said with mocking courtesy, gesturing for her to follow.
She gathered her ruined clothes, some stubborn part refusing to leave them, and moved toward the door.
"Leave those."
She froze at Eliam's command.
"They'll be burned," he continued. "Along with any foolish notions of escape they might represent."
