Chapter 7: Branded
The room smelled of leather and smoke.
Sera stood naked in the middle of Damien's private chamber—an old, stone-walled room beneath the estate used for things neither of them ever spoke about in daylight.
A small fire crackled in the iron hearth. Next to it, on a table of blackened steel, lay a branding iron—its tip shaped into a serpent twisted into the letter V. Damien's mark.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Fear and desire were twin pulses racing in her veins.
He stood before her, black shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, firelight casting shadows over his chest and arms.
"You still want this?" he asked, voice hoarse.
She nodded. "Yes."
"You understand what it means?"
"It means I'm yours. Forever."
He reached out and caressed her cheek. "This will hurt."
"I want it to."
He didn't smile.
He turned and placed the iron in the flame.
The metal hissed, glowing slowly from orange to white-hot.
Sera's breath caught. Her skin broke out in a sheen of sweat—but she never looked away.
Damien walked to her, branding rod in one hand, his other holding her waist.
"Last chance," he whispered.
Sera took a deep breath and turned her body, exposing her left hip. "Do it."
He kissed her temple gently. "Mine."
Then he pressed the iron into her flesh.
She screamed—loud, raw, broken.
The sound echoed off the stone.
Tears ran down her cheeks as her knees buckled, but he held her steady. When he pulled the iron back, the mark was seared into her skin—a perfect V-shaped serpent, red and angry and forever.
She collapsed against him, trembling, panting.
And still... she smiled.
Damien kissed her again, gently this time, and carried her to the bed.
He lay her down like she was precious.
Then he slid between her thighs and worshipped her pain away—with tongue, with fingers, with love that didn't know how to be soft.
He made her come while she sobbed, body pulsing with fire and euphoria.
And when it was over, when she lay limp in his arms, he whispered:
"No one will ever touch you again."