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“Precisely. The body is miraculous in its healing. I appreciate the silver lines left behind after a wound has healed, but sometimes, I want to see my hard work, don’t you agree?”
“So you tattoo them?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
I held the vial up to the watery daylight coming from the high windows. An iridescent blue glimmered. “You’re saying I’m holding a jar of microscopic sapphires?”
“Not microscopic. Crushed. Each time I go to my sapphire mines in Vietnam, I ensure a few of the very best stones are crushed into powder.”
“Why?”
“Because sapphires are my favourite stone and just happen to match my eyes.” He fluttered his lashes with a laugh. “And also, because it makes such pretty markings.”
I didn’t want to know why or how he knew that. Why he’d even come up with the idea or how many times he’d experimented.
“What do you want me to do with it?” I asked.
“Tattoo Ily of course.”
“Excuse me?”
“After you’ve whipped her, taste her blood like you so enjoy, then sprinkle some of this in the wounds. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt her. Gemstones are naturally antibacterial. Did you know that? Ily would being a gemmologist. I’m sure she’d love the opportunity to wear the very thing she’s studied permanently on her skin.”
I shook my head. “She’s already tattooed. Her wand—”
“I know.” He grinned. “But you’re about to whip her. Beginners never get the whip’s pressure right. You’ll end up cutting her. And when you do, I want you to pour some sapphire dust into the wounds. Within a week, her body will heal around the tiny particles and forever glitter in the sun.”
I hated the longing springing inside me. To have her wear my mark? To brand her?
I shook my head, dispelling such darkness. “It’ll ruin her ink.”
He shrugged with a sick smirk. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy her wounds as they healed after Ruby Tears, mon ami. I saw you looking at them. I saw the pride on your face. Wounds heal. This scars. She’ll always wear your signature after today. Won’t that be nice?”
He prowled away before I could argue or convince myself I didn’t want this.
Going to Rachel’s side, he whispered something to her, then guided her to the four-poster bed with its shackles and chains.
My eyes met Ily’s.
Our connection flared.
She gave me the softest, saddest smile.
Fuck, how many times would we have to play these twisted games? How long would Ily have to endure such unacceptable things? And how much could I resist before I lost myself all over again?
Fisting the vial, I placed it into the back pocket of my jeans.
When you’ve got her free, then you can have an existential crisis.
For now…keep him happy.
Victor wouldn’t let me leave here without doing what he wanted.
I’d have to scar her. But at least I wouldn’t damage the drawing her brother did or destroy a part of her past.
Victor thought I was a novice at this.
Sure, a couple of decades had passed since my education in these arts, but…I’d been taught by the best. I knew the noise of a perfect swing. I remembered the slice of miscalculation. I might have muscle memory in a boy’s body, but I recalled enough to be confident I wouldn’t hurt her…too badly.
