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That’s the one that scares me.
I don’t back up consciously. I don’t realize I’ve done it until both of Santiago’s hands come to my arms and turn me to face him.
“Wife,” he says, and I drag my gaze from that iron up to him.
“You can’t—”
He leans down toward me, his cheek brushing mine, igniting a spark. “I can,” he whispers against my ear. He holds me like that for a moment, then licks the shell of it, making me shudder as he draws backward and nearly lifts me off my feet to take me to the center of the canopy. He crushes the roses beneath his shoes, and the smell and roar of the fires overwhelm all of my senses. Once I’m standing before the chair and table, he turns me to face the men, and keeping his hands on my shoulders, he gives me a single-word command.
“Kneel.”
I swallow hard. I look up at him, and he looks down at me. Behind him, a sea of faces watches curiously, intently. Will I obey? Will I submit? And what happens if I don’t?
“Please don’t,” I start, but no more words come. Please don’t hurt me. It’s pointless. He enjoys hurting me. Didn’t I just learn that?
His hands tighten on my shoulders, and I go down, the lace of the dress rough between my naked knees and the cold stone. I kneel up, staring at him. My husband. I feel the first tear slide down my cheek. Is this what he wants? He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m already giving him my tears.
But if it is, he doesn’t acknowledge it. His expression is unreadable as he walks behind me.
I don’t move, concentrating on keeping my gaze from roaming to that fire. To the branding iron in the flames. My heart races, a cold sweat covering me as my vision blurs around the edges. I’m not sure I can take that kind of pain. No, I’m sure I can’t.
Santiago draws my wrists behind my back, and I feel cool leather cuff first my right wrist, then my left.
I still don’t move.
Next come the cuffs at my upper arms. These force me to sit up, making my breasts jut out toward the watching men.
I swallow hard as he tightens the bonds, immobilizing me. I can still run, I think. I’d be clumsier than usual bound as I am, but I can still run. Although I know I won’t get far.
Something cold wraps around my neck and I gasp, wanting to reach up but unable to. It’s thin, whatever it is, and it fastens with a click.
I feel him stand and hear him as he walks around me again. I look up at him. At the two sides of his face.
He watches me for a long minute. Only when I drop my gaze does he crouch down to take my face into his hand. His touch is gentle as he studies me, studies the few tears that drop from my eyes.
I want to tell him not to hurt me. I want to beg him not to brand me. But I can’t form words. Can’t make sound.
He lets something drop from his other hand. It makes a clinking noise when it hits the stone, and I shift my gaze to it. It’s a long, thin chain. He lifts my chin higher and hooks it onto the choker he just placed around my neck and runs the other end through a small ring attached to the stone floor that I hadn’t even noticed.
My gaze slides to the fire again, and the only sound I can make is a choked sob.
He tugs the chain, making me bow my head, but holds my gaze as he leans toward me, his cheek against my cheek again, the rough stubble on his jaw scratching my skin.
“Move and I’ll use the branding iron, do you understand?”
He draws back to look at me.
I’m trembling, shaking. It’s a good thing I’m already on the floor, or I’d have fallen by now.
“Do you understand me, Ivy?”
I nod frantically, tears falling wildly, feeling just a hint of relief as I see that iron in my periphery.
He nods once, then continues to shorten the chain, and when my head is bowed far enough forward, he locks it.
One of those tears drops on the stone floor. Then another.
He stands, the space he vacated empty and cold, and I find as he walks behind me that I want him close again. A warm body. Even if he will be my tormentor. Because behind him sit more vultures come to pick at the kill.
I try to move my arms, my head, but I can’t, not even a little, unless I want to set my forehead on the dirty ground. He’s immobilized me. Whatever he chooses to do to me now, I will submit. He has made sure of that. The chair behind me creaks. He sets his feet on either side of my hips. I can just see the tip of his shoe if I shift my gaze.
