I don’t want him to hurt.
Luckily, the needle touches his skin, and he doesn’t look bothered. It’s not a very large design. I imagine it won’t take long at all. I look into Tristian’s placid blue eyes for the duration, hoping he sees the truth in mine.
These initials we bear are forever.
Dimitri and Killian are just as quiet as they watch, and it’s almost as if this is a sacred moment. I have no idea what the future holds, but I know it won’t be easy. It’ll be a thorny path, because we don’t know any other road to take than the one that keeps us together. None of us are built for it—least of all me.
This strange, sacred ritual only takes fifteen minutes. Remy’s tattoo gun ceases its shrill buzz, and he swipes over the new ink, cleaning it diligently. “How’s that?” he asks, waiting for his approval.
Tristian never breaks my gaze. “Perfect.”
Remy does this half-nod, half-shrug, and begins treating it the same way he must have Killian’s. Ointment slathered over the skin. A bandage ready to go. Idly, he inquires, “What about you, Rathbone? You’re still a virgin. Ready to finally get some ink?”
Dimitri shakes his head, arms looped loosely around my waist. “I like my needles to go all the way through and leave some metal behind. Sorry.”
I chew on my lip for a moment before making the decision. “Could I get something?” One by one, they look at me. Killian’s face is carefully blank, but Dimitri’s eyebrows are disappearing behind his messy hair, and Tristian… well, he looks like he’s trying very hard to push down that disapproving thing pinching the corners of his eyes. “I still have some money from the wrestling match,” I add, gaze passing between them. “I can pay.”
“No,” Killian bursts, tongue sweeping out to wet his lips. “Remy’s here to pay a debt. Get what you want.”
Remy finishes applying the bandage on Tristian and gestures to the stool. “You’re up.”
Dimitri lets me go, fingers dragging against my hips as I make my way to the center of the room. The stool is still warm from Tristian, who stands off to the side, not bothering to put his shirt on.
Remy shucks off his gloves and pulls out a sketch pad. “What do you want, and where do you want it?”
“I want it here,” I say, showing him my wrist. There’s a thin scar, barely noticeable unless you know what you’re looking for. It was made upstairs in the ruins of my bathroom, a shard of glass pressed against my wrist. This isn’t like the letters on my chest. It’s the only scar on my body that hasn’t been touched by the beauty of something worthwhile. That’s why I decide, “I want a daisy.”
Remy glances at me, perking up as he puts his pencil to paper. “Yeah, that’s easy.”
Before he can get too into it, I add, “With three thorns.”
“Daisies don’t have thorns.” He says it matter-of-factly, but still begins outlining them down the crudely sketched stem.
I look at my men—my lovers, my fighters, my Lords—and grin. “They do if they’re lucky.”
35
Story
14 months later
The first thing I notice are the pillars. They draw the eye to the front porch, which must have been elaborately constructed, even back in its heyday. It’s a stately colonial, with a stone fa?ade and strong, classical details. But the vines creeping up the north-facing side of the house, and the willow tree framing the west, do a lot to soften its presence. I’m immediately enchanted.
I step out of the car, having driven here with Tristian, and meet the others around the front.
Killian’s eyes find me and he pauses, staring intently. He recovers just as quickly, touching my back to usher me forward. Leaning down, he murmurs, “Nice dress,” which would be a sweet compliment if it weren’t followed by, “Trying to get fucked?”
I purposely remain silent, letting my sundress sway around my knees. I’m far from the days of these three picking my outfits, but I still know what riles them up, and I use the information accordingly. Clearing my throat, I say, “So, this one looks interesting.”
We all stare up at the house with matching, pensive expressions.
“Check it out.” Killian jerks his chin to the side of the property. “Three-car garage.”
“And two acres of pure charm!” Harried, Linda comes stumbling up the drive, struggling to adjust one of her tan pumps. “This home is truly a showcase to detail, gentlemen.” She pauses, addressing me. “And Lady.”