the mark of her Master.
Condor Devotion
B rie smiled as she listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. With his arms wrapped around her, she was safe to revel in the afterglow of his lovemaking. These moments were a little taste of heaven on earth.
Sir stirred beneath her. “Let me get up to turn out the lights. Stay here.”
Brie’s heart started racing when he got up and left the room. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She headed directly for the closet and got on her tiptoes to reach for the thin wooden box.
She carried it out and laid it on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, she undid the latch and opened the lid, then took out the branding iron. In a fluid motion, she turned and knelt facing the door, her head bowed and the iron rod held up in petition.
She bit her lip as she waited for Sir’s return, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. There was no fear in the offer, simply the deep-seated need to be marked as Sir’s.
He entered the room and stopped in his tracks. “Téa.”
She looked up at him from her kneeling position and begged earnestly, “Please…”
He stepped forward and took the brand from her hands. “The pain will be significant, téa. This is not a simple tattoo and cannot be covered up later should you dislike the results.”
“I understand, Master.”
He knelt down beside her and placed the rod back in her hands. “I cannot guarantee how the brand will heal, or what it will look like afterwards. It may not be pretty.”
“Before I made any decisions, I googled it, Sir. I understand the risks.” She touched his cheek, which was rough with five o’clock shadow. “I need to feel your mark on my skin. I want it to hurt.”
“Why?”
She lowered her eyes, unsure if she could clearly explain the desire in her heart. “So that it counts. This brand will mark a profound point in my life…on my body and in my mind. A rite of passage. It will require both strength and courage to receive this brand of yours, but I’ve never wanted something as much.”
Brie felt so strongly that she couldn’t bear the thought of him denying her request, so she braved calling Sir by his given name. “Thane, my skin tingles with need of it; my soul cries out for it.”
His eyes flashed with an emotion she could not identify. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, “You should know I will not be the one to do it. Master Coen is the only one I trust to brand you.”
She looked down to hide her smile, pleased her request had been granted.
Sir helped Brie to her feet. “This is as significant as a collaring, téa. I leave it up to you whether you want witnesses.”
Brie wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Sir, I would like it to be just us, under the stars.”
He crushed her against him, but said nothing for several moments. Sir’s voice was gruff with emotion when he spoke again. “I will give you a week to reconsider, téa. The passion you feel now may lose its luster as the date approaches.”
“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think that will happen.”
His fingers lightly caressed the small of her back—the area to be branded. His touch left her lightheaded and tingly all over. Brie sighed in contentment. “I love you, Master…”
The night of the branding, Brie felt nothing but peace. There was no question in her mind that this was what she wanted. She’d been curious as to whether the fear of the hot iron would deter her from going through with it, but the reality was that the pain was what attracted her to the act. It wasn’t a case of needing the pain for pain’s sake; it was the challenge it presented. She wanted to make a great sacrifice to Sir. Even though she was not a masochist, if the act wasn’t painful, it would cheapen the gift.
Brie felt akin to a Native American warrior as they drove out to meet Master Coen. She was out to prove her worth by way of a trial she had willingly
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