The Branding

**MAX**
"Do either of you believe in second chance mates?" Blanca asks and I nearly growl.
My hand shifts behind her head to rub a few strands of her shimmering white locks between my fingers and I contemplate yanking them when she asks that question. *Is she plotting something?*
"*Second chance?* Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?" Jared teases her.
*Settle down Beta. Just drive.*
"Maybe,"she whispers.
This little *angelic* psycho sitting next to me has no idea when to shut up. *Do we believe in second chance mates?!* Where the fuck did that question come from? Is she thinking that *Jared* might be hers? Is that why we're on this topic?
It's on the tip of my tongue to say that slaves aren't allowed to have mates, just to be a dick and get back at her for that shit she said about my brother. But then, she decides to take a little jaunt down memory lane.
"I only ask because I remember that was what my sister Reanna was hoping for. She met her mate a couple of weeks before she was killed and she said he was planning to reject her. But she didn't mind because he was evil. She told me second chance mates are chosen more carefully by the Goddess to protect the hearts of the rejected. Do you think that's true?"
*Who gives a fuck? You haven't been rejected, Angel.* But for some unknown reason, the fact that her sister had a mate burrows into my mind. I wonder who he was and where he is now. He was *planning* to reject her? Guess that means he never got around to it, so he must have felt it when she died. *I hope it was painful.*
"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Blanca," Jared flirts. "A man would have to be stupid or blind to reject you."
*Fucking prick. Is he saying that he wouldn't?*
"That's funny, I was thinking the opposite. I'm Shiftless, a man would have to be blind to *accept* me."
*Damn.* Now, why does that hurt? Is that what she truly believes?
Again, the memory of her tear stained face invades my mind and with it comes a bloom of pain. I try to douse the fire before it burns right out of my chest, but what I end up doing instead disturbs me. I delve my fingers into her hair and begin to gently stroke the back of her neck. *Goddess, she is soft and I fucking love her hair.*
At first, she stiffens like she isn't sure what is going on, so I add a little more pressure to make myself known. The moment I do, she whimpers and the sound is so erotic that my leathers are stretching again. Now, what started as a light tracing has become a needy caress and when her body shudders, I'm seriously considering dragging her onto my lap, Jared *be damned.*
Lucky for me, we're coming up on the prison and I remove my arm from the head rest and my hand from her neck. She turns away from the window to stare down at her lap and I watch as her body begins to tremble. *She must not want to look at it. I don't blame her.*
"The Branding House is only a few minutes past here," I feel compelled to inform her.
Her head jerks my way and she breathes a long sigh of relief. *Maybe she was afraid we were going to take her back there.*
Immediately, I decide that when we arrive at the Branding House, I'm going to leave Jared to oversee the branding. Let *him* be the one to force the mark on her when she begs them not to. The both of them were getting a little too friendly and Jared *never* disobeys an order. Even when he doesn't agree, he gets the job done. Let's see how many smiles she gives him after he refuses to have mercy on her. I want to ride back over to the prison so that I can interrogate the day guards. There are several reasons I'm wanting to speak to them, and as I've decided that I *hate* that place, I'm going to make it my very last visit. All the remaining guards that have a post there, I'll simply have come into the office.
"We're here," Jared says pointedly and I suddenly realize we've already parked.
*Shit. Have I been staring at her this entire fucking time?* I have. I've been ogling her for ten damned minutes, I don't even think I blinked. And *now,* Jared is looking at me like he just caught me stealing from the donation box.
"What the fuck are you looking at, *Beta?*" I snap, ignoring the fact that his face doesn't change at all. Rolling my eyes, I say, "Let's go. We're almost an hour late."
The Branding House looks just like you'd imagine it would. The fires inside are already going and I know that because the chimney set directly over the firepit is puffing out black smoke like the engine on a train. The high barn doors are wide open when we walk up and the brander, Gamma Jack, has already got a branding silver resting over the glow of orange coals.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Jack says playfully, his dark chocolate eyes lighting with excitement when they notice Blanca.
There's a reason that branding is Jack's job alone, and it's not a *good* one. The man likes to inflict pain. At least, that's what I've noticed. But what I'm seeing now, as his gaze rakes over Blanca's body *much* too slowly, is that he especially likes it when the receiver is female.
*Okay. So I may not be leaving after all.*
"Let's get started," Jack says, then gestures to Blanca, steering her toward a customized bench that rests next to the firepit.
Blanca takes three weakened steps forward, her eyes wide with fear. She's twisting her fingers together nervously, the way that she was on execution day when I went to see her in her prison cell. Jack huffs with impatience and then reaches out to snatch Blanca by the wrist. I clench my teeth, my eyes narrowing at him when he yanks her toward the bench. There are two places a slave or rogue is ever marked. Depending on whether they are male or female. Male, the back of the neck, female, on the lower back, just above the rear. Suddenly I'm realizing that I did not think this through when I put her in a dress this morning. Almost her entire body is going to have to be exposed for this and as much as I tell myself that it doesn't matter, it *does.* Not only am *I* not prepared to see that much of her, I'm even less prepared for Jack to.
*Shit.*
"I'll wait outside," Jared says. "I don't think I want to watch this." Then he steps out and closes the doors before I can protest and that's when I notice Elder Cyrus sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room.
"Cyrus," I say, confused. "How did you get here? And *why* did you come?" But then I'm turning away at the sound of Blanca's whimpering and Jack's low lewd comments.
He's speaking in voice just under a whisper, but I can still hear the fucker and for a moment I'm almost overcome with rage. But I school it, I have to. No one can know that she's my mate and if I blow a gasket trying to protect my brother's killer, I might as well tattoo her name on my forehead.
Pressing Blanca over the bench so that her stomach and hips rest over the top of it, Jack leans into her and says, "I have one of these at home too, but it's lower, and a lot more comfortable. I'd love to bend you over that one. What do you say, huh? Maybe, I go easy on you and later you come and see me in town. You're so damn pretty, honey."
*What the fuck?*
"Maxwell," Cyrus' voice chimes out, but I don't look at him because for some reason I can't tear my eyes away from Blanca.
She's shaking her head at Jack as he presses himself up against her body and I swear it feels like my throat is closing up. *I have to stop looking. He's not going to fuck her right here in front of me and I can make sure she knows she is not permitted to visit the bastard later.*
I close my eyes and turn away, then open them to stare at Cyrus. "Yes, Elder Cyrus? How can I help you this morning?"
Cyrus purses his lips then gazes at Blanca worriedly. "You cannot do this, Max."
"What?" I snap.
"He's been here all morning spouting that stuff," Jack says, reaching down to gather Blanca's skirt in his hands.
*Fuck. Fuck, fuck.*
Again, I turn away.