Page 39 of In Darkness We Claim

I don’t realise I’m biting my lower lip until I taste copper, the sting not even hurting me with everything else going on. Lawson’s beautiful eyes seem to soften as he stares at me, silently asking me if I’m all in or not.

I pull in a shuddering breath, hoping that will be enough to keep my voice from cracking as I speak loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m not walking away. Today, you claim me as yours.”

It’s a variation on his vow, and the smile that spreads across his lips is the most genuine I’ve ever seen, setting butterflies off in my stomach. Of all the things to find romantic, my messed-up butterflies choose this.

“You’re going to regret this, Harper,” Ryan shouts.

Before either Lawson or I can respond, Xander cuts in. “Sit the fuck down, Sheenan. You have your Prize, now shut the fuck up so Lawson can claim his. I’d very much like to get out of here sometime this year.”

There’s a sarcastic edge to Xander’s tone that makes me smile, and I wish I could see the look on Ryan’s face right now, as I’m absolutely certain he’s pouting. He hates not getting his own way. I’m also sure Sienna is sitting beside him with a face like thunder, annoyed that he’s making a scene over me.

I was surprised Sienna had agreed to be Ryan’s Prize, especially as she calls herself his girlfriend. Then again, since they’re already having sex, she can’t exactly become his Betrothed, so their options are limited. I’m almost certain she would have hated the idea of someone else becoming his Prize.

While it’s common for Pledges to have a girlfriend and a Prize, or even be Betrothed and have a Prize, it takes a certain type of woman to be okay with it. Those who are engaged under a marriage contract are less bothered, mostly because they probably don’t care all that much about the person they’re being forced to marry.

However, the Pledge probably chose his girlfriend, and it’s likely she’d view him being with a Prize as cheating. So, I’m not surprised Sienna offered to be both his girlfriend and his Prize. Though I would have expected her to hold out for a Betrothal once Ryan ended things with me.

Lawson’s warm fingers brush across the tingling skin on my bare mound once more, catching me off-guard enough that I let out a gasp. With his voice low, so only I can hear, he asks, “Are you ready for this, sweetheart?”

I give him a small nod. “Yes.”

A familiar smirk plays on his lips, while his dark gaze deepens with an unreadable emotion. “Then make sure you keep still. I don’t want you to move and ruin my masterpiece.”

Oh, I hadn’t even thought about staying still. Or that the tattoo might actually hurt. How am I supposed to stay frozen if it hurts?

I tense all of my muscles whilst silently hoping Lawson has nice handwriting, so it doesn’t look a complete mess. The buzzing of the tattoo machine starts up again, as does the tittering of the audience, and Lawson gets into position.

He lowers himself until his head is much closer to my body than it should be, which only causes me to tense more. Where before he had an almost blank, bored expression, his brow is now furrowed, as though he’s deep in concentration.

When the needle pierces my skin for the first time, I’m shocked by how little it actually hurts. It feels like someone is scraping their nails over my flesh, but it’s not an uncomfortable or painful experience.

I’m mentally tracking how Lawson moves the needle, picturing the permanent tattoo being etched onto my skin. It feels like more than just his name, which is all he said it would be, but I can’t exactly ask him.

You’re stuck with it either way, I tell myself.

A sigh of relief escapes me when the gun’s buzzing ceases. Not because of pain, but because my role in the ceremony has ended. Then Lawson catches me unaware as he lowers his head closer to my core, and as he looks up at me through hooded lashes, my gaze locks with his.

A shadow falls over his darkened gaze as he purses his lips, blowing on my newly tattooed sensitive skin. A gentle gasp escapes me as the air hits, my body quivering from the pleasurable sensation. It’s like his breath soothes the soreness, and I bite my bottom lip as he does it again. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but I know I’m getting wet just from his closeness.

He reaches for something beside him, and I gasp when he places something sticky onto my skin. As he gently presses down the edges, I realise he’s placed a plaster over the tattoo.

When he pulls back and stands up straight, the softness I saw on his face not two seconds ago is gone; the cold, blank mask is back. He reaches over and pulls down my skirt, covering my exposed legs.

Once I’m no longer exposed, he slides his hands up my thighs, underneath the fabric; the featherlight touch of his fingers leaves goosebumps all over my skin. When he reaches my lace thong, he hooks his fingers into each side. I hold my breath as I wait to see what he’s going to do next.

Is he going to pull them up over the tattoo? Is he going to pull them down? Why would he pull them down if my part in the ceremony is over?

I’ve barely finished the thoughts in my head when Lawson yanks at the fabric, ripping the thong to pieces. I let out a yelp as the cotton digs into my skin before tearing apart. He then pulls the tattered material out from underneath my dress and slides it into his pocket, but not before showing the audience, who cheer at his brutality.

Grabbing hold of my hips, Lawson then lifts me from the table, keeping a firm hold on me until I find my feet. He ensures my dress is pulled down, so no part of me is exposed to the room full of people still staring at us both.

With my back to the room, I look up at Lawson, nerves setting in at the way he’s staring down at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He places his hands on my shoulders, but his movements seem almost hesitant, as if he’s not sure what to do.

As he stares at me, I can almost see his brain ticking away, like he’s warring with himself over something, but I’m not sure what could cause him this level of confusion. He then shakes his head ever so slightly, before pulling in a sharp breath as he looks over my head at the room full of people.

“Now that I’ve branded my whore, it’s time to see what she’s capable of,” he announces, his voice loud but devoid of any emotion.

My stomach flips at the harshness of his tone, and I barely have a chance for my nerves to set in before he’s pushing down on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees.