Page 110 of If I Were Yours

The knife cuts again. And again and again. I don’t look. I only watch Grigory—the man whose will has become my world—the force creating the storm and the force keeping me steady through the hard gushes of wind.

I accept his power and let him guide me through the pain with soothing words and reassuring squeezes as he holds my arm in place.

“I’m done,” he finally says. “Do you want to see before I bandage it?”

Holding my breath, I tentatively move my gaze to my wrist, finding two letters engraved into my skin. Blood pebbles up from the red letters that are barely half an inch tall. Grigory dabs the crimson beads away, making the symbols stand out from my milky skin, clearly defined.

?B it says. The Cyrillic initials for Grigory Volkov.

I bite down on my lip as the meaning of those two letters wells inside me.

With two gloved fingers under my chin, Grigory demands my attention.

“You are mine now,” he says, like it’s the most fundamental truth ever spoken. “Now you’ll always know for sure.”

“Thank you,” I whisper with all the sincerity of my heart. “I’m all yours now.”

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