Page 13 of Rescuing Mara (Warriors of Arracate #2)

CHAPTER 13

O’Rec

S he looks so composed, my Zarra, but she is afraid. I can sense her inner turmoil as she averts her eyes and bites her lips. Her intoxicating scent of fresh flowers is tainted.

I can no longer control myself, so I grab her hand. She lets me, but she still does not look at me.

“You can speak freely, Marra. You are not a prisoner or a slave. You are free, and I promise nothing bad will happen to you when you speak your mind.”

I gently caress the back of her hand with my thumb, slowly sliding my hand towards her fingers, holding them in the palm of my hand while my thumb traces her knuckles. She raises her head, but her eyes have that awful empty stare. She stares straight ahead, her free hand raising to touch the thin black line tattooed across her neck.

She turns to me, her vacant eyes burning into my soul. “This line says otherwise. I have always been Ananta’s property. Now I am yours.”

“No!” I cry out, hating myself for raising my voice immediately.

“No.” I softly repeat my words, grabbing her other hand in mine as well. “You are my Zarra, but that does not mean you are my property. You are my life, and you are my heart, my soul, my everything. I will worship you with every breath I take, but you are not my possession. You are your own, and if you give me a piece of yourself, I will happily embrace it, care for it, nurture it, and make it grow.”

My hand touches her slender neck, tracing the thin line. I now recognize it as a symbol of possession.

“I cannot eliminate it, but I can change it for you. Give you a choice about what markings you wear on your skin?”

She blinks, then blinks again. Light returns to her eyes, and I release some of the tension I was holding.

“You… you can do that?” she stammers.

“Of course, I always carry some ink with me.”

She stares at me now, at my arms and torso, as if she is only now realizing that the symbols that endow my body are tattoos.

“Who, who gave them to you? What do they mean?” she whispers, scared of the answer.

I rise, slowly removing my harness and the few weapons that are always strapped to it. Standing before her in only my leathers, I feel strangely vulnerable. Will she like what she sees? Will she like my body?

Her mouth falls open as she looks at me in utter fascination. My confidence grows; I guess she likes what she sees. I inhale, and her scent of sweet flowers is all that surrounds me. Deciding to take the leap, I softly grab her by the waist and set her on top of the table to reduce the height difference between us.

She starts reaching out to me but pulls her hand back before her fingers reach my skin. I smile at her, determined not to be disappointed, as I start pointing out the markings and their meaning. I tell her about the tattoos that mark me growing into adulthood, the ones for battles and the ones for lost friends.

“I like that one,” she points out an intricate swirl covering my left pectoral. It starts as one big line but ends in two curls brought together in a tip. I look at her delicate neck, the dip at the bottom, and imagine a delicate necklace lying there in between her breasts.

“I have an idea.” I start to reach out to touch her, but hesitate.

“Can I touch you?”

She gives me a puzzled look, then nods.

My hand traces the tattooed band on her neck. “I can draw a line from here.” I point at the side of her neck. “To here.” My fingers move towards her sternum. “And another one on this side.” I repeat the movement on the other side of her neck.

I point to the valley between her breasts. “I can swirl the lines through each other and have them connect here.”

She gasps. Clutching her hand to mine as my fingers rest in that intimate spot. Seconds go by, leaving us both frozen in the touch.

“Okay,” she finally says.

* * *

Mara

I can’t believe I am going to let him mark me. Well, not his mark. MY mark. A mark of my own because I am free. No, that’s not right, I’m not free, I am still and will always be Ananta’s. Only he doesn’t know.

I push the guilt back and bury it deep. I haven’t done anything wrong and never made him any promises. And I really, really wish he was right. I wish I were free - free to choose my path and keep an open mind, as Lauren said.

“Marra?” O’Rec calls out to me. I blush, realizing I was lost in my thoughts again.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I am going to get my supplies. Are you good waiting here?”

Alone? Without him? Panic rises in me.

“I will ask L’Ren to keep you company,” he says before my anxiety entirely takes over.

I give him a wry smile. “Thank you.”

He is silent for a minute, his eyes distant, then smiles back at me. “She will be here soon.”

“What did you just do? Talk to Lauren?”

“No, but I did talk to D’Var. We have a mental link. It is a special thing that can form between crews of warriors.”

“And mates?”

“And mates,” he adds. “When mates have a fully formed bond, they can connect mentally. Sometimes, it happens quickly, but other times, it can take a while. Usually, something blocks the connection, and only trust and honesty can open it up to its full potential.”

Before I can say anything, I hear the buzz of the sliding doors, and Lauren enters. Hair mushed and cheeks flushed.

“Did I interrupt something?” O’Rec says with a grin.

Lauren sticks out her tongue and shoos him away. I stare at her in awe when he walks away laughing. She hops onto the table next to me.

“So, what are you guys doing?”

I smile, feeling butterflies erupt in my stomach.

“I am going to get a tattoo!”

“That is awesome!” she exclaims.

“Yes.” I hesitate for a minute, but I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders before I look at Lauren.

“This.” I point at my neck. “Is a slave band. It’s a symbol to say I am a slave, that I am property of the High Commander’s house. In this case, I am his daughter’s slave.”

She gives me a sympathetic look but doesn’t say anything. I close my eyes and count to ten before I continue.

“I hate it, every time I see myself it’s a reminder, my life is not my own. O’Rec said he can change it to make it mine.”

She smiles at me. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

The doors slide open again, and O’Rec walks in. He makes a beeline for the table, setting down bottles of Ink and a small device.

“The ink goes here,” he says, pointing to the top, where the bottle can be placed in a holder. “When I turn it on, the needle will pierce your skin and insert the ink under it.”

I nod, appreciative of his efforts to put me at ease. Lauren grabs something to drink and waves goodbye.

I barely notice her departure, my focus solely on O’Rec. He seems to be all I can see every time I come near him. Everything else just fades into the background.

He steps closer, entering my personal space. When he turns the tattoo device on, it makes a soft buzzing sound. Automatically, I reach for the numbness, but as I take a breath, I am blown away by the scent of spices and leather. O’Rec. I exhale, tension leaving my body in a rush, and I revel in the feeling of him being this close to me. His scent envelops me, and I let my mind drift away, closing my eyes and focusing on breathing.

I’m in a happy place, safe and secure - nothing like the numbness I retreat to for most of my day-to-day life. I revel in the foreign feeling. Before I was completely separated from reality, locked in my head, but now I just take one breath after another, letting his delicious scent envelop me in a bubble.

The sound of his voice is taking me out of my trance, and I notice that the buzzing of the tattoo device has stopped.

“Is it done already?”

O’Rec responds by holding up a mirror so I can see what he has done. I gasp. It is stunning. From the slave band around my neck drops a necklace tattoo. A smaller, mirror image of the swirls he has over his pecs nestles in the valley between my breasts. I clench my fists to keep from touching the lines.

“Do you like it?” O’Rec says hoarsely.

“I love it,” I whisper. My throat feels dry, and I blink a couple of times to keep the tears filling my eyes at bay.

“Thank you!” I say hoarsely. Tension crackles between us, and the moment's intimacy almost overwhelms me.

O’Rec takes my hands and brings them up to his mouth, touching his lips to the knuckles of my left hand, then the ones on my right, never breaking eye contact in the process.

“Whatever you need, I will be there to give it to you. You are the spark in my heart, the light in my sky. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I promise you, I will never leave you again. Where you go, I will follow. If you jump, I will as well. You, Marra, are everything to me.”