Crimson Vows

14: The Mark

Anya’s POV

Knock.

One hard sound and the door opens.

I do not bother to look up to see who it is.

Why bother with people who do not even wait for a response before they open the door.

But life is cruel, I had to look up when I did not hear any word.

Lev stands there. His scar looks ugly in the dim light.

“Pakhan wants you in his room, now.”

His voice is so flat but the happy thing is that he did not grab me.

He just waits as I stand on shaking legs.

My bare feet feel cold on the marble floor.

The collar around my neck feels heavier than ever as I walk.

Lev walks beside m, his hand stays ready but does not touch.

The halls are long and silent.

My heart pounds loud in my ears. I know this is bad.

We stop at a dark wooden door and Lev opens it.

I step inside.

The room is huge.

Dark wood walls, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a fireplace roars with orange flames.

The air smells of leather and smoke.

Nikolai stands by the fire.

He is in a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up, his muscles showing on his arms.

In his right hand he holds a small branding iron. The end is metal.

A tiny wolf crest. The Morozov wolf.

It glows cherry red from the fire. My stomach drops hard.

Why is he holding that? Who is it for?

My eyes search the room fast. No one else. Just us.

My breath stops. He means me, panic floods my body hot and sharp.

My legs shake. I want to run. I want to scream.

My mouth opens but there was no sound.

Nikolai turns.

His eyes are ice.

He puts the iron back into the fire and the metal hisses.

He walks to me slowly, every step makes my heart jump.

Lev steps out and the door shuts again.

Click. Lock. I back up until my back hits the wall.

Nikolai reaches me. His hand grabs the front of my black dress and he pulls hard.

The fabric rips loud down the middle as cold air hits my naked skin.

My breasts. My stomach. Everything.

I try to cover myself.

My arms fly up but he catches both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head.

His other hand moves to my left breast.

He gropes it hard and squeezes.

His thumb finds my n****e and he pinches it until pain shoots through me.

I cry out.

“Stop!”

My voice breaks.

He leans close, his mouth nearer my ear.

“Mine,” he says low.

He throws me onto the bed.

The black silk is cold under my back. Silk ropes wait at each corner.

He moves fast as he ties my left wrist to one post. Then my right, the ropes bite.

He spreads my legs wide and ties my ankles.

I am naked, open, helpless.

The brand glows red in the fire, waiting.

Tears already burning my eyes.

He walks around the bed slow.

His eyes never leave me.

“Tonight you stop being Volkov,” he says.

His voice is calm and cruel.

“Tonight you wear my name on your skin forever. Inside your thigh. Where only I will see. Where only I will touch.”

I shake my head hard.

“No. Please. No.”

My voice cracks. As my tears fall hot.

He pulls the iron from the fire.

The wolf crest glows bright red. He kneels between my open legs. The heat reaches my skin before the metal does. He brings it close, I smell hot iron so I scream before it touches.

“No! Please! Nikolai, do not!”

He presses the glowing crest to the soft inside of my left thigh.

My skin sizzles loud.

The pain is white hot like lightning inside my body.

I scream so high and broken.

“Aaaah! Stop! It burns!”

My back arches off the bed as the ropes cut deep.

Tears pour down my face, my throat burns from screaming.

Sobs rip out of me, the smell of my own burning flesh fills the room.

He holds it there.

One second, two, three.

Long seconds of pure fire.

Then he lifts it.

A perfect tiny wolf now seared into my skin forever.

The pain does not stop. It throbs and pulses.

I scream until my voice is gone, only broken sobs left.

I shake hard.

The burn is fire. Tears flood my face. My legs tremble.

But between my legs I am wet. Shamefully wet.

My body betrays me again. I hate it. Hate him. Hate myself.

Nikolai puts the iron away.

He peels off his leather glove slow, his hand bare now.

He takes a small jar and spreads cold gel on the brand.

The cool feels good for one second.

Then his fingers move lower.

Two fingers push inside me hard.

No warning. Not gentle.

Then a third.

He curls them and pumps fast, rough.

His thumb grinds my c**t without mercy.

Pain from the brand shoots with every thrust.

Pleasure builds against my will.

I bite my lip bloody, trying not to make a sound.

I lose.

My hips move, I hate that they move.

The burn and the pleasure twist together.

I fight the feeling. I lose again.

Orgasm crashes through me like a wave.

I scream, the sound raw and broken.

My body shakes hard as my tears mix with sweat.

He leans over me and wipes my tears with his bare fingers.

Then hit me with a soft but deadly voice.

“Good girl. Now you wear my mark inside and out.”

I lie shaking, branded and owned.

The tiny wolf burns forever on my thigh as pain and pleasure still pulse between my legs.

I hate him with every breath.

I hate my body for coming apart under his hands.

I hate the wetness that stays.

I belong to the devil.

And my body just thanked him for It.