Page 172 of Degradation

Idon’t say a word for the entire drive home. My hands are flexing, itching, I feel like I’m one of those clockwork dolls that’s been wound up so tightly, but someone is holding my legs, preventing me from going off.

And I need to. I need to so desperately.

I can hear Mace and Malik chattering away in lowered voices, talking aboutthem, Conrad and Magnus’s wives. I wish I could see what they look like, I wish I could see how they were with their husbands. I don’t even know why it matters, but somehow it does.

When we come to a stop, the two guards get out and for a moment we sit there in silence, just me and Devin, waiting.

I know they’re doing a sweep, checking the place is clear, checking that no one is there, waiting for us. God knows what we’d do if this was an ambush, it’d certainly be a smart time to do it.

I guess we get the all-clear because Devin gets out, walking around to open my door as if he’s the perfect gentleman. Perfect monster more like. I take his hand, and my own is still shaking.

He doesn’t comment as he leads me inside but as the doors shut, as the outside is finally locked out, I swear something inside me explodes. I can’t keep it in. I can’t keep quiet. And I lack the finesse, the skills to do it any other way.

“I want one too.” I blurt out.

I hear the way he stops and turns like he has no idea what I’m talking about, and in truth, I can’t exactly blame him.

“Want what?” He asks.

“A brand, a mark. That’s what they said, the guards, that both your brother’s wives have them for everyone to see. Your family crest, burnt into their skin. I want one too. I want everyone to look at me and know who I belong to.”

I hear the sharp breath he draws in. “No.” He says, before turning on his heel and walking on like this entire conversation is done with that one syllable.

What the fuck? I storm after him, reaching out to grab at where I think his arm is, and I wrench him around as best I can, as best any person can when they’re grappling a giant while they’re also blind.

“Devin,” I begin.

He grunts out, pushing me off but I refuse to let him dismiss this so easily.

“Devin, please…”

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” He says, like I’m still some silly little girl. Some naïve fool.

“That’s not true.” I state. “I want to show the world, I want to show everyone who I am now. I want this, and I know on some level, you want it too.”

He lets out a huff so deep, I know I’ve hit a nerve.

“Devin…”

His hand closes around my face, around my cheeks, pinching them together so my lips pout out. “You’ve had enough pain.” He says, cutting across me. “Enough hurt to last a lifetime, why would you ask for more, why would you want more?”

My lips curl at such a silly question, and in truth, I know now that I’ve won, that I’m getting what I want.

“Because,” I say, placing my own shaky hand on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating, the way it’s pounding. “I like the pain when you’re the one inflicting it on me.”

Yeah, that does it. That seals it.

I know then that my monster will give me what I want. What I need.

His hand scoops under my legs so suddenly I flail back, crying out. He scoops me up, tosses me over his shoulder and carries me through like an actual neanderthal.

I’m unceremoniously dumpedon the bed and my body bounces so much as it hits the mattress.

Devin clatters about, grabbing things and, as I hear all the noise, I realise that he’s doing it now. Right fucking now.

For a second, I feel a flash of regret. I know it’s going to hurt like hell, that for days after I’m going to be in so much pain.

But this will also be a win. It will bind me more to him, to my husband. While our vows said for life, if I don’t get a pardon, the reality is, they mean fuck all. I’m a Founder, my marriage has to be sanctified – that can’t happen if I’m not pardoned.