“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Bishop greeted. “Mr. Thorin has requested that I read from his book, so that is what I shall do. If anyone objects, they can come speak to my brother here.”
I saw out of the corner of my eye that he gestured towards Alaric.
I could feel their presence all around me. The warmth they exuded, like a wall of heat on all sides save for the side that faced the sanctuary. I only felt a chill there.
“Nobody is allowed to object,” I heard Thomas whisper, causing my spine to straighten. “Do you think all four of them will fuck her?”
“Wait,” I heard Azrael hum, and I realized I had looked down again.
My eyes lifted back to his to find him turning back from Bishop and finding my eyes again.
I allowed my eyes to fall to his lips just before he said, “Don’t forget, little sinner, I’m leaving him to you.”
Leaving him to me. Right.
After a moment, and without looking away, he told Bishop, “Carry on.”
“He made it up as a game to taunt his brothers, mainly the cub,” Bishop began easily. “A ceremony vetoing the idea of love becauselovedoes not exist in the reality we’ve created. Even now, as we’re gathered here today, there is no love in this place, but there is something more stretching between the two standing before me. A little blood-covered string, once loose, now taut with the discovery of the commonality between the cracked soul and the soul of tar.”
My eyes furrowed. His soul was not made of tar.
Azrael didn’t even blink.
“We are only here because of the obligation to the church, but the true branding, the true ownership, will come later. Privately, I know how much you all hate privacy.”
Was that meant to be a joke? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to interrupt.
“Today, they will speak their vows, sign the papers, and leave this church as a united front against the world in which she is now torn from. Dear Scarlett,” he went on, my heart skipping a beat at the sound of my name, “you will never escape us now.”
I heard a shuffle, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Azrael’s. The blue had gotten colder, his pupils wider, a hungerin their depths I had only glimpsed at a few times. It caused my thighs to tighten and my pussy to flutter.
“Hold out your left hands,” Bishop requested.
My mind was buzzing, my entire body a live wire as my left hand lifted, hovering beside his, our palms up.
A second later, a sharp pain erupted across my hand, tearing my eyes away from his, only for mine to widen when I saw the long cut flooding with blood across my palm.
“What the Hell!” Thomas exploded. “What kind of sick freak does that?”
“It’s no different than your lashings,” his father hissed. “Sit down.”
I watched with parted lips as the large blade Bishop was holding sliced over the stitch free cut on Azrael’s hand, reopening the slice that had barely healed.
Azrael didn’t make a noise.
My eyes shot to his. Was I being punished? Whatever I did, I was sorry. I was so very sorry.
But his eyes reflected nothing but that hunger.
I turned back to the blood pooling in both our hands, the crimson glowing against my skin. It was so bright against the palm of my hand. Glowing, almost. It was absolutely beautiful.
I tore my eyes from it just in time to see Bishop turning back to us, holding something in his hand.
He pressed it into Azrael’s hand for several seconds before lifting it up and putting something on top of it.
My eyes furrowed. It looked like a small heart. No bigger than the nail on my middle finger.
He stepped back and picked up something else, turning to me. He pressed it into my hand, and my eyes prickled with the pain, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to show the audience any weakness. They would not see me in pain again. Not even for a second.
