Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You had. My bride is… creative.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll address her creativity this evening. She is new to our ways, but young wives, like children… you know what they say.” He turns his back and walks toward his desk.
“What do they say?” Willow asks.
He doesn’t stop as he answers, “Well, in this case, spare the rod, spoil the wife.”
Willow’s hands fist and I feel her gearing up for a fight. “Easy,” I lean down to whisper so the old man doesn’t hear. “Don’t give him what he wants.”
She looks up at me, but before she can say another word, we’re inside The Councilor’s office and the door is closed behind us. I guide Willow to a seat and remove my hand from her neck to reach into my pocket for the small bottle of painkillers. I’ve already had too many, but they’re not doing enough so I pop the lid and take two more. Hildebrand sees and gestures to one of his men to pour me a drink, which I take and swallow in one gulp.
“This will only take a few minutes,” Hildebrand says, moving behind his desk where he has already prepared the document that needs to be signed by both Willow and myself. “Then we can get on to the marking ceremony. I’m told all the witnesses have already assembled.”
I skim the document. I’ve already read a copy. It’s basically a contract stating that as my wife, Willow is now a member of The Society and as such subject to its laws. It emphasizes the importance of confidentiality.
“Your father… well, let’s not rehash history but leave it at I’m glad to see you will not shun us, Azrael.” I am tempted to tell him it was the other way around, not that either my father or mother cared. “The Delacroix family is an important pillar of The Society.”
I force something resembling a smile. “Pen?”
He does the same. “Of course.” He twists the lid off a fountain pen and hands it to me. I sign where I am required to sign, then hand the pen to Willow.
“What is this?”
“It says you will not discuss Society matters outside of The Society, basically,” I tell her.
“And that you will conform to our rules,” Hildebrand adds.
“I’m not signing that without reading it.”
“Would you excuse us, Councilor?” I say, not taking my eyes off my bride.
“Of course.” He expected this, I’m sure, and he leaves Willow and I alone in his office.
“I’m not signing anything like that,” Willow tells me.
“It’s a formality, and it is part of the contract your family signed.” I hold the pen out to her. She looks at it, then down at the document, and I can see how out of her element she is here. See she feels it. “He can’t touch you without my permission, and I have no intention of giving it. Sign it so we can go.”
She looks up at me. “So I’m property now.”
“Just sign it.”
“Your property.”
“Who else’s? Don’t make this difficult.”
“Or you’ll use the branding iron?” She folds her arms across her chest but her eyes water, betraying her discomfort, her fear.
“You belong to me. You know that.”
“I’m not—”
“You know the rules as well as I. Your sisters, your parents, they are safe for our sacrifice.”
“Our?” Willow snorts, quickly swiping away a traitorous tear. “What sacrifice are you making exactly?”
I press my hands into my temples and close my eyes, but it does nothing to relieve the pain.
“It’s not you who has to face a courtyard of strangers where you’ll possibly be fucking branded. It’s not you who will have to submit herself to a man so he can take his pleasure no matter the cost. It’s not you who lost her family—”
“Enough!”
Willow jumps.
I grip her wrist and tug her to me. “It was your ancestor who cursed us both. Yours! You think I haven’t lost? I have lost more than you. At least your family is still safe and sound and alive. Now fucking sign or I will use the branding iron, and I will relish your screams.”
She stares up at me, her mouth opening as a crease forms between her brows but the instant I see what I read as pity, I slam my fist on the table.
“Fucking sign! Now!”
Anything kind or pitying vanishes. Willow sets her mouth and her blue eyes turn to ice. When her lips start moving, I have a vision of Elizabeth again in her final moments cursing us, cursing me. “May the blood of all the Wildblood women your family has killed forever torment you, Azrael Delacroix.”
“Are you cursing me, Little Witch?” I ask with a sneer.
“Little Witch?”
“It fits, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you!” She tugs free of my grip and scribbles her name on the document then tosses the pen down. “You want to go? Let’s go!”