“Hoods down.” My uncle’s voice projects around the vast space as collective hoods are lowered.
Rhett Carter gloves up as Salinger and Stewart push me down on my back on the hard table. My legs are dangling over the edge, and if the men weren’t standing in front of me, the people at the end would have a nice view of my bare pussy.
Salinger and Stewart hold me down firmly, the former with a heavy arm draped across my collarbone, tight up against my neck, and the latter with an arm across my thighs.
My uncle swipes a damp cloth over the clean circular shape on my upper arm. His eyes lose their coldness for a brief second when our gazes lock together, silently cautioning me to be brave. With the iron stick in his hand, Rhett Carter wastes no more time, leaning over me and firmly pressing the hot iron on my skin.
An anguished scream escapes my throat as my skin burns with the brand. Carter’s eyes probe my face as he keeps the brand pressed to my arm, and I continue screaming. Sweat beads instantly dot my brow, and I’m struggling to breathe as tears cling to my lashes. The pain is intense and all-consuming, and I only vaguely hear sounds of commotion on my left.
I almost pass out when Carter removes the branding stick and air washes over the raised burned skin. My uncle is wearing plastic gloves now, and he dabs some salve over the wound. I can’t help whimpering as it stings and burns like a motherfucker. James’s gaze latches on mine, and he subtly nods. I would glare at him if I had the strength, but I’m in too much pain, and I know there is more to come.
Salinger moves his arm, pressing his hand down firmly on my shoulder while Stewart restrains my other one. Carter holds my thighs down until I’m firmly pinned on the table. Tears leak involuntarily down my face as my arm throbs and burns. Salinger’s leery grin is firmly in place as he stares at my bare breasts. My nipples are hard, not from arousal but from the shock skittering over my body. Stewart looks to the left, his eyes carrying a warning, and I know he’s staring at his son and daughter, cautioning them to settle down.
I cannot see my love or my friend, so I visualize their faces in my head and try to remember happy times with Jase to distract me from the pain.
Howls rip from my throat as searing-hot pain presses down on my chest, just over my heart. My body bucks and writhes of its own accord as the four luminaries hold me down. My uncle stares into my eyes as he keeps the iron pressed on my chest, but I can’t see his expression through the tears blurring my vision to know if he feels any remorse for inflicting such pain on his niece. Nausea swims up my throat, and briefly I wonder if they didn’t feed me so I wouldn’t puke all over them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my parents. Uncaring if I’m punished, I twist my head a little so I can see them better. Mom is in Luminary mode, hiding her emotions behind a wall. Dad has tears streaming down his face and murder in his eyes. I try to reassure him with a slight smile, but it’s hard when it feels like I’m on fire.
The brand is removed, and like the last time, the pain intensifies, and my eyes roll back in my head as my screams bounce off the walls. Tears leak from my eyes, and I’m moaning as nausea swirls in my gut and black spots dance behind my retinas.
Hearing Jase’s voice, I force my eyes to focus, roaming my gaze over to the left until I find him. His tortured eyes lock on mine as he pushes against the bodies restraining him.
Bree, Baz, and another girl—his younger sister, Jocelyn, I’m guessing—are holding him back as he strains toward me, shouting and screaming. Bree looks from me to him as she whispers frantically in Jase’s ear. An older woman standing beside them looks on with fear tripping across her face. Apart from the eyes, Jase looks so much like her, and I instantly know it’s his mother.
I stare at Jase, willing him to back down. This is torturous enough without the thought of him being punished. I won’t lie and try to pretend I’m not in immense pain, but I hope he can see all I’m trying to convey with my eyes.
Julia steps in front of him, blocking my view. Hate fills her eyes before a familiar sneer ghosts over her face. He is humiliating her in front of their elders and peers, and she won’t take that lying down. For now, she’ll put on a front and enjoy seeing me compliant. She’s a cruel, coldhearted bitch lacking in empathy.
Imagining her enduring this at ten, I don’t feel a smidgeon of sympathy. What kind of a monster knows what it’s like to undergo this ordeal and gloats watching it happen to another? She is a twisted, sick bitch, devoid of humanity.
I don’t feel sorry for her, because a lot of it she has brought on herself, but I do pity her. She will never know what it’s like to love and be loved or what it feels like to be genuinely happy because nothing will ever be good enough. Her desire to control and hurt others will always take precedence and always ensure I’m the winner in life.
I snap my gaze back to the four luminaries as I am straightened up, sitting on the edge of the table. My limbs feel heavy, and pain radiates throughout my body, and mixed with the lack of food, it’s making me feel weak.
James places a salve on the brand on my chest before helping me to drink from a bottle of water. My dry lips and aching throat welcome the cold liquid. In the background, there is movement and activity, but I’m too exhausted to worry about it. Whatever is coming next cannot be as bad as what I have just been subjected to.
Salinger and Carter return carrying two big gold chalices. Carter hands one to my uncle along with a slim dagger. The Luminary symbols are etched into the silver handle of the dagger, and it’s a replica of the dagger Salinger drags across his palm. My eyes pop wide as I watch him hold his hand over one of the chalices to capture the blood droplets. After a few seconds, he passes it to Carter. He does the same, adding his blood to the mix, while Salinger presses a large clear Band-Aid over his sliced palm.
James reclaims my attention when he hands the dagger to me. “You know what to do.”
Mom mentioned a blood exchange, but it would’ve been nice if she had elaborated. Without thinking about it, I drag the dagger across my palm, opening my skin. The sharp sting barely registers against the throbbing pain in my arm and my chest. My uncle places my hand over the second chalice, keeping his palm on top of mine.
Around the room, every member of the Luminary’s close family is doing the same, sharing the dagger and chalice from person to person. My eyes find Jase again, and we stare at one another as the blood drips from my cut into the chalice. My heart pounds as I stare into his gorgeous emerald-green eyes. My fingers twitch with a craving to touch him, and I long to feel his strong arms around me. Everything around me disappears as we stare at one another, and his gaze helps to comfort me. Concern lingers in his eyes, and I try to reassure him I’m okay.
“That will have to end,” my uncle murmurs under his breath, so low only I can hear him.
It drags me out of my bubble, breaking the spell Jase and I are under. I turn my head to look at James.
“He isn’t destined for you.” He removes my hand from the chalice before setting the goblet down on the table behind him, the one beside the fire pit. “We will talk about this again,” he adds as Salinger retrieves the second chalice and walks toward us.
“Stand,” Carter commands, taking the elbow of my unbranded arm and helping me to my feet.
I glare at him as I stand on wobbly limbs, almost at my breaking point. His eyes bore into mine, warning me to keep challenging him. A throat clearing grabs my attention, and I look over at Mom. She subtly shakes her head, nodding subtly in Jase’s direction, reminding me why I must obey.
Air expels from my mouth as I stand straighter, reminding myself this is almost over.
“We share blood to reinforce our vows and strengthen our bonds,” Stewart says, raising the chalice with my blood to his lips.
