Whenever and wherever The Order pleases.
My knees lock as the brand is shoved into the skin over my right shoulder blade.
I will not scream.
I will not.
My body seizes in agony, my teeth clamping shut to keep from making a sound. The pain is blinding. Overwhelming. My throat swells, but I hold it in.
Others scream that night, every one of my brothers, but not me.
I wear my silence like armor. Like victory.
This is good,I tell myself.This is what survival looks like.If I can gather enough power and control, then someday no one will ever hurt me again.
When it is done, I stumble forward, skin seared, vision tunneling, but I do not fall. It doesn’t matter. Father’s hand is on my shoulder, and he forces me to my knees anyway.
Through the pain, his voice comes again, calm, final, holy. “Rise, Son of The Order.”
I rise.
Burned.
Bleeding.
Reborn.
***
I wake with a start, my heart pounding, mouth dry. I fucking hate that dream. I hate them all. The dreams plague me at least once a month. Often more. Mynightmares aren’t alwaysthisone, though. Not always initiation night. Sometimes it’s the other trials. The tests.
The Order had a hundred ways to break us, and my brain insists on replaying every single one, like it’s trying to process it. The old trauma. All that buried shit. As if I could ever make peace with it. The things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. The things that were done to me.
I roll over and freeze. The other side of the bed is occupied.
Oh, yeah.
The woman I bonded.
Well, kinda.
Tradition calls for a full ritual. A father standing behind his son. A blade to the palm, the blood oath made with vows spoken before witnesses. It’s supposed to be sacred. Permanent. Binding in every way that matters. But my father’s out of town, as usual, which means there won’t be an official ceremony, at least until he gets back.
If I’m lucky, he won’t come here until I’m done with her. Then she’ll never have to bleed for me. For now, the words I spoke are enough. I verbally bonded her, claimed her in front of all the brothers. They heard it, and they know the rules.
She’s off-limits.
Mine.
At least for now.
I peer in her direction, but I can’t see much in the dark. Just the shape of her body tucked beneath the blankets. Breathing slow, oblivious.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, knowing I won’t sleep again tonight. I never can, not after the dreams, but then she sighs, turning her head toward me.
I shift back so I’m facing her. I can feel the warm puff of her breath cross the mattress to gently caress my face, and it’s…nice. In a weird, unusual way. I’ve fucked more women than I care to count, but I’ve never slept beside one.
Not like this. Not all night.
