Black Light: Branded

by Parker, Kay Elle

  Finn sighed contentedly. “I think it's time we go home, little dove.”

  Epilogue

  Ava

  One Year Later

  “So, Ava, we're hitting your one-year milestone. I can't begin to tell you how thrilled I am with how far you've come in twelve short months.” Madeline beamed at her from the computer screen. “It's been a pleasure to see how much you've changed since this time last year. Your self-esteem, your self-confidence has grown tenfold. Anxiety levels have reduced by half, and aside from those dicey few weeks in September, you've taken the voices in hand and made them your bitch. I think that's cause for a celebration.”

  Sitting in Finn's office chair with her socked feet propped on the edge of the desk—no boots allowed unless she wanted to clean the surface with her tongue—Ava grinned back at her friend. It was definitely odd to think of the woman she'd once been scared witless of as a friend, but secrets and pain made for a strong bond. Her weekly Zoom meetings with Madeline were her saving grace, and every bit a part of her new life as Finn and the ranch were. “Finn's got a bottle of wine with our names on it,” she replied, wiggling her toes in delight. “He's got a surprise for me. One year of therapy under my belt and nearly nine months without cutting myself.”

  “Yes, that was a setback, but you recovered. No one blames you for slipping, Ava, you understand that?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I still feel like I could have been stronger. It was stupid and rash, but there was so much shit piling up on me. The voices got their way again. Losing Kinx was so hard. I've never had an animal to love, and she was my first. Not to mention Finn gave her to me when I arrived here. The colic took her down so fast, and then we were burying her.” They'd been over all this so many times before, but Madeline had taught her the more she spoke about her potential triggers, the less power they had over her. The voices couldn't use them against her if they were no longer a sore subject. “And then a week later, the cops finally nabbed that thieving bastard, Thomas. The full extent of his cruelty to the cattle—to Finn's livestock—was just horrific, and he didn't care. He made a lot of money behind Finn's back, using Finn's cattle, and his excuse was that he wanted to be just like Finn.” Ava snorted derisively. “He wanted the money and his own place without putting in the time or effort to source his own stock. He wasn't concerned about bloodlines or improving the cattle, he only wanted to churn out as many calves as he could to sell.”

  “I know, sweetie. But what good came out of his betrayal? We need to look beyond the deed to find some positive outcome, otherwise we struggle to process the event in a way that doesn't make us crazy.”

  Ava leaned back in the comfiest chair ever and tugged thoughtfully on her lower lip. “I guess culling out the weak and sick head in the employment herd is a good thing. Finn lost some hard workers through Thomas's actions, but getting rid of the assholes opened the door to sourcing some fresh blood. We don't hire as many hands now, but the ones we have, we trust. Finn's business relationship with Ash is flourishing, and they're expecting the first crop of foals from the new stallion in a few weeks, so that's exciting.”

  “Good, good. Anything else?”

  “Selling the majority of the cattle sucked. I know it was my idea, but I didn't expect it to be so difficult loading all those cows and calves onto the transport. Going from twenty thousand head down to under a thousand in a couple weeks and overseeing them as they left...it was upsetting, and the itch got worse. It hurt Finn to watch them go, years of effort just driving away, and I couldn't handle it. The voices sneaked in, played my strings like a fucking violin, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the barn with a pocketknife in my hand and blood dripping off my fingertips.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, dousing the pull of the delectable burn before it could take hold. “Finn stayed true to his word. He tied me up, stomped off to the house, and came back with the first aid kit and a huge chunk of ginger.” Her ass tightened, fearing the ginger more than his belt. “He fixed me up, gagged me, and left me standing there for an hour with that ginger up my ass.”

  “And the positives?” Madeline prompted.

  Ava traced her fingers over the newest scar. It wasn't a bad one, not compared to the one she'd made in D.C. that almost cost her everything. “I realized that Finn still loved me enough to punish me, even though I'd broken my promise. I finally understood that, though reducing the herd was my idea, Finn was in favor of it. Approved it. He wouldn't have sold them if he didn't agree with the idea and have plans for the future...”

  “Go on, sweetie,” Madeline encouraged, her soft tone bright and pleased. “You're doing so well.”

  “We moved Ash and the horses to the west station, which worked out really well. Finn spends a couple days a week there and he loves it. We expanded the Black Angus herd considerably more than planned, and we're supposed to be going to Australia in a few months to pick out some fresh blood for the Murray Greys, but he has time to do things he wants now. He's spent his entire life building an empire, his fortune, without any time to really relax and enjoy what he's made. He can do that now.” Ava rested her hand on the flatness of her belly and smiled. “I spend my days riding and learning more about the cattle. Doing research on bloodlines and genetics. I bought a new bull last week, all by myself. Finn thinks he has potential. He's going to be Lulu's husband in a couple years' time.”

  On the screen, Madeline sipped from her mug of coffee and nodded slowly. “I think it's safe to say the ranch is doing well. But you're avoiding the real subject here, Ava. We've had some long and emotional discussions on Bartholomew. Over the past year, you've revealed some traumatic episodes of how he treated you as a child. Starvation, the use of prostitutes in the family home, blaming you for the death of your mother. All these things have deep roots and you've made excellent progress in mending some of the damage they've caused you. How do you think you're coping with that?”

  Oh, she hated talking about her father. No, not her father, she corrected herself. One of the first things Madeline drilled into her head was to distance herself from the voices, and that meant making a distinction between her father and Bartholomew. Acknowledging the familial connection gave the voices more power, more control, and Ava was all about taking back control from the asshole. “He was never a father in the way he should have been. I was a nuisance to him, too young to fuck for his tastes and a permanent reminder that his only offspring was female. He didn't deserve me, he didn't deserve my mother, and she would hate him for what he did. Burning everything that belonged to her to spite me? Letting me become the girl who was never wanted? She would hate him as much as I do.”

  “We spoke about digging into your family history. Going back to your hometown with Finn as emotional support. Have you given that any more thought?”

  “No. And I'm not going to.” It was something she'd thought long and hard about. Returning to the town where she'd been pitied and ridiculed all her adolescent life held no appeal, and neither did running into her father—if he hadn't drowned himself in a bottle and rotted away in that sorry excuse for a house. “If my mother had a family, they didn’t come looking for me. They didn’t try to save me from him. I’m not scrabbling on my hands and knees for scraps of information about them so they can fuss and preen and pretend they want to know me. Or worse, turn me away. They’re as much a part of the way I was raised by their ignorance as he was.”

  “Has Finn had any input on that decision?”

  Finn remained her rock. Steady and protective. “He supports it, just as he would if I chose to track them down. Hell, he’d have private investigators all over it if I said the word. I don’t want them, I don’t need them. Finn is my family, and he’s all I need. I’ve got friends now, through Black Light, through people on the ranch. You’re part of that circle too, now. But family is home, and home is Finn.”

  “We’re certainly heading in the right direction, Ava. I am definitely impressed. Have you told him about the new addition to your fami
ly circle?”

  Ava froze. For a moment, her brain blipped out on her, then she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What do you know?”

  Smugly, Madeline smiled. She set her mug aside and leaned closer to the screen. “We’ve been talking for a year now, sweetie. I know you pretty damn well. Our last two meetings, you haven’t had your usual coffee cup in hand, and you’ve been glowing like a second sun.” Her hand flicked toward the screen. “Not to mention you’ve been stroking your belly for the last fifteen minutes as though you’re petting a kitten.”

  Fuck. Ava scowled and scoffed. “Indigestion, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I see.” Smirking, Madeline stared at her. “New arrival in time for Christmas, I take it?”

  She let her head thunk back against the chair and sighed so deeply it was almost a growl. “This is the problem with shrinks. You’re far too perceptive for your own good. Is it that obvious?”

  “Only if you know what to look for. Congratulations, Mommy. So, tell me everything; how do you feel physically?”

  Mommy. Possibly the scariest word in the world when it applied to her. Ava swallowed hard against the faint nausea that had plagued her since she suspected things were cooking where she wasn't sure she wanted them to cook. She and Finn had talked about starting a family together, sure. It was a regular conversation. They'd stop using condoms almost six months ago, and she was religious in taking her pills.

  “I'm tired a lot. Like, stupidly tired. I keep falling asleep in here or in the bath. Otherwise I feel okay, I guess. Sometimes I get really nauseous, but it passes.” She left out the part where she lost a chunk of stomach lining most mornings because...ewww. “My ass might be permanently bruised from all the spankings I'm getting; I've been all bitchy and tetchy with Finn, which doesn't go down well, unsurprisingly.”

  “I can imagine. I'm assuming you haven't had the pregnancy confirmed by an OB-GYN?”

  “No. I tried using the cattle ultrasound to scan myself, but I think I missed my uterus. I'm getting good at reading cow pregnancies, it's just not the same when I'm trying to find my own.” Ava offered a winning smile when Madeline dropped her head onto her desk. “I'm pretty sure my feet won't touch the ground on the way to the doctor once I've told Finn if that makes you feel better.”

  Madeline lifted her head, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks. For a horrible moment, Ava thought something was wrong...until she realized her friend could hardly breathe, she was laughing so hard. “You used the ultrasound machine for your cattle on yourself? There's nothing like being self-sufficient, sweetie, I'll give you points for ingenuity.”

  She glowered at the screen. “I don't want to tell him I'm pregnant if I'm not. Finn's stood beside me every day of the last year and not flinched. I've kicked and screamed and railed at him after sessions with you that tore me open down to the soul, and not once did he turn away. I know he wants a family. He wants kids. He doesn't push, he doesn't cajole or pressure me into that dream, but he deserves this. This is happening, I can't change it. I don't know what kind of mother a woman raised without a mother can be—all I can do is my best—but I'm so fucking positive that Finn will be a thousand times better than the asshole who ruined my life when it comes to fatherhood.”

  Clapping erupted from the speakers. Shocked, Ava stared as Madeline sat upright, tears of mirth still on her face, her hands applauding. The psychologist looked...elated. “Fantastic. That is what we've been working toward, Ava, and you've nailed it. Positivity first,” she said emphatically. “Every session we've had, topics started with negativity. We've worked through them, cast aside the bad, and then focused on the good. You've stepped straight into this with only the positive in mind.” She started ticking off items on her fingers. “Finn's supportiveness. Willingness to open yourself to his dream even though you're scared. Acknowledging you're human and that your best is good enough. Realizing you're not alone in this new stage of your life and understanding Finn is there for you, and now for the baby.”

  Goddamn these hormones! Ava's throat closed quickly, tears rising to her eyes that weren't from humorous roots. Her breath hitched. “So now we look at all the bad things I've conveniently glossed over?”

  “No, sweetie,” Madeline said gently, snatching a tissue from a box beyond the camera's range and wiping her face dry. “I can honestly say, right now, I can't think of a single bad thing for us to pick apart. Can you?”

  Well, there was...no, that wasn't really a bad thing. But there was...no, not that either. There was the issue of whether Finn would still love her when she got fatter than one of the in-calf heifers. He'd probably just cuddle her close, his hands cradling her belly, and tell her there was just more of her to love, because he was sappy that way when he wanted to be.

  Would they still be able to play? Part of her recovery relied on Finn's ability to preempt the urge to cut, keeping her riding the burn in a controlled environment. If they couldn't play and he couldn't placate the craving that still lurked despite the voices' absence, what would happen to her then? Wouldn't that set her back to the beginning, where all the shit consumed her?

  No, we won't let that happen. It wouldn't happen because she'd filed that shit away into its correct compartments in her head. Pages of her history scoured over and digested, processed in a way that rendered them useless, and shoved into harmless metal drawers.

  She didn't have to cut herself open to drown out Bartholomew's voice. She didn't need to cut to feel alive when her soul felt heavy and dead. That Ava was gone, her troubled self was put to rest.

  Ava spread her fingers over her tummy, breathed deep. “No. Not a single one.”

  “You should be proud of what you've accomplished, Ava. Now go find your Dom and make his year. Both of you deserve this.”

  “We're done?” Their sessions more often than not ran over time; they rarely ended earlier than scheduled.

  Madeline grinned. “I'm cutting you loose and you're arguing? Go, be free, little bird. Spread your wings and deliver some joy. I expect a full report on how things go when I see you next week. Make sure you rest, drink plenty, and don't do anything stupid that's going to incite Finn's wrath. Expectant daddies are just as protective as pregnant mommies.”

  “Oh, fabulous.” She gave thought to moving, but her body was comfortable as it was. There was no reason she had to go back outside, not yet. The ranch was buzzing with activity beyond these four walls, branding and tagging calves. Rough, dirty, smelly work—the kind she was starting to love—but her body felt languid and resistant to orders from her brain. “Same time as usual?”

  “Same as usual,” Madeline confirmed. “Take a nap, Ava.”

  The screen went blank.

  Ava stayed exactly where she was, mulling over the session with Madeline. She jolted awake when warm skin brushed over her cheek, soft as a butterfly. Finn's scent surrounded her, strong and warm. Relaxing into the chair, she tilted her head back to peer up at him. “Hi.”

  He leaned on the back of the chair, staring down at her with concern. “You're sleeping a lot, little dove. Every time you disappear off the yard, I find you asleep somewhere. I'm shocked I haven't seen you dozing in the saddle yet.” Shadowed gray eyes roamed over her face as he touched her forehead gently. “You look flushed, darlin'. You not feeling too good?”

  God, to be loved by him was a miracle. Suddenly the secret she carried didn't pump her blood with nervous energy. She didn't need to be afraid of telling him. There might be repercussions for withholding it from him for the last few weeks, but she could deal with it. “I'm fine, Finn. Perfect, actually. How's everything going out there?”

  He stepped back and spun the chair around to face him, making her laugh and squeal as she gripped the armrests. He hooked a finger through the simple black leather collar she wore for everyday purposes and tugged. “First batch of Angus calves tagged and branded,” he informed her, his eyes trailing down the length of her to the apex of her thighs. “Just like my girl.”

/>   Tagged by her collar with his brand on her ass.

  Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.

  Quite possibly the most terrifying and exhilarating experience he'd given her, requiring even more trust than she'd given him on Roulette night when his fist achieved the impossible.

  Beneath the homegrown Christmas tree decked out with all the sparkly decorations and twinkling lights she'd dreamed of, he'd presented her with a long, slim-handled iron bar with a fancy handcrafted brand on the end and asked her if the fantasy he'd once weaved for her held any appeal.

  “I’ll tie you facedown, little minx, and mark this ass with my brand. My initials seared into this backside...Mine forever, just like I’ll be yours.”

  Finn's exact words as he hammered into her at Black Light, the imagery alone enough to make her come, remained with her even now, more than a year on. They'd resonated inside her as she held the brand in her hands, contemplating whether he was serious. He had been—to the extent he'd already prepped an area in one of the barns in case she said yes.

  Of course, she'd said yes.

  It had been almost more than her nerves could take, standing in the barn an hour later with the fire pit smoldering and the iron heating up. Wondering if they should really be doing this and how much it was going to hurt.

  The kiss he'd laid on her lips had gone a long way to calming her nerves.

  They'd come back tenfold and more when he'd strapped her down to the spanking bench he'd moved to the barn from the house. Ankles, thighs, hips, shoulders, wrists. He'd made damn sure she couldn't move an inch; when the brand pressed into her right ass cheek for those long few seconds, she understood why.