Page 10 of Whispers of Ruin

The words hit me like a slap.

‘The gift of being branded’, like I was some damn livestock.

“You belong to me now, and we need to make sure everyone knows it.”

What the fuck that freak is talking about?

He lets go of my neck and pulls out a lighter, along with another small object from his pocket, one that I cannot quite make out.

“You know, when a farmer receives a new shipment of cattle, he marks them to identify his belongings properly.” I hear the lighter clicking. “Personally, I think it is more about claiming his territory, ensuring no one ever steals what is in his possession.” He sighs in satisfaction. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do with you.”

The pain is instant and searing as he burns a clean ‘X’ across my forearm with some kind of seal. I gasp, the sting making my whole body tense, yet sending an unexplained exciting shiver through me all at once.

“Can you feel it, Mira? Do you feel the shockwave of pain coursing from your arm to your pussy?” His hand delicately caresses my shoulder. “The pure agony that consumes you like nothing has ever shaken you before,” his fingers sliding on my breast and falling to my waist, right through my pants.

“You are completely deranged,” I breathe, trembling from head to toe.

He pulls his face closer, eyes burning beneath the mask. “Then tell me to stop.”

It’s not a request. It’s a dare.

I swallow hard. “You wouldn’t listen anyway.”

His laugh is low, dangerous. “Exactly.”

“That’s fucking insane,” I snap, trying to stay steady.

He tilts his head, voice dark with heat.

“And yet, you are soaking through those panties.”

Suddenly, it hits me—that scent. I could recognize it among a thousand. It had wrapped around me like a whisper just days ago, embedding itself deep in my memory. A blend of warm spices and whiskey, laced with the faintest trace of smoke.

Oh my God…

It ishim, it has been him from the beginning.

His hand hovers over the glistening slitted junction between my thighs and I can tell by the look in his eyes through the leather mask that he’s smiling right now—proud and satisfied.

“Do you realize how fucking wet you are, Mira?”, he says with his deep and hushed voice. “Even more than when you fucked yourself with the blood I provided for you, just like the perfect deviated girl you are.”

I cannot deny it. I honestly had never been this turned on in months and I cannot figure out how or why.

“Please stop,” I plead. “I have someone in my life, as you clearly know by now…”

He glares at me, his anger palpable.

“I am scorching your arm as if you were some kind of lowlife slave, and the thing you really fear is that boyfriend of yours?”

Without thinking, I retort.

“It is not fear, it is call love. Something I’m guessing your mother never bothered to teach you!”

I instantly regret my answer as I feel a biting, swift slap across my face, so sudden that it leaves me momentarily dazed. The searing pain electrifies my skin, nearly knocking me off balance. I grit my teeth, my eyes squeezing shut feeling the tears well up, threatening to spill over.

His fingers close around my jaw, forcing my head back with a hand that feels like steel. The strain of his arm is suffocating, and I can’t move, can’t escape. A wave of helplessness washes over me as I am trapped under his unyielding brutality.

“Let me teach you real love then.”

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