Page 275 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

It's a tattoo of a flower with five pink petals and a center of tiny yellow stamens, and surrounding the rose are green leaves with a thorny stem. It's a fine-line tattoo, but the shading makes it look more delicate and beautiful.

What the fuck? This is… Oh my God. This is…

“It’s a briar rose,” Rurik murmurs, watching me.

“But I thought you couldn’t get a tattoo because of your heart?” I look up at him, blinking. “Angel, the bacteria that can enter your bloodstream, it's risky—”

“Briar,” Rurik interrupts with amusement.

I scowl. Ever since he came out of surgery all those years ago, I may have been overbearing at first.

I followed the doctors' instructions to a T. I measured everything he ate, made sure he took all his meds, and monitored his heart rate daily.

Being given another chance to be with Rurik was a gift I did not take for granted.

“It’s been a couple of years, and I got an all-clear from the doctors," Rurik shrugs, kissing my forehead. “I wanted something of you permanently on me, Briar. It's near my heart, too. A reminder that my heart still only beats for you and belongs to you.”

Fuck.

Can I fuck him now?

I really want to. He’s so goddamn cute, and damn it…

I love him so much.

“Briar?” Rurik asks, concern flashing on his features. “Do you like it?”

I stare at it. “I fucking love it, angel.”

Relief floods his features, and he laughs, “Good. Good. I thought I did something wrong for a second when you didn’t say anything.”

“Rurik,” I laugh, folding the sleeve of my shirt.

What are the odds we both had the same idea…

His eyes zoom in on my wrist and widen at the bandage covering my skin. Before I had time to react, he’s on me. His hands are on my wrist, and his breathing comes out harsh and heavy, “Briar, please don’t fucking tell me you did it again. Please, Briar.”

I frown. What the fuck? This is definitely not the reaction I expect of him—

“Please, Briar,” Rurik continues. “I told you to come to me if things are bad again.”

Understandment dawns on me as he freaks out over the bandage on my wrist.

I wait for him to look at me before I sigh, “Things haven’t been bad since your surgery, Rurik.” I gesture to my wrist, “Things have been so much better since I told you about the cuts and stuff.”

His brows furrow, and he nods. He looks at my wrist, “What is this?”

“Care to do the honors?”

Rurik looks hesitant for a second. The last time he saw my wrist, the scars finally faded enough to be easily covered with makeup. Every time we make love, he would make a point of kissing it.

Every.

Time.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he mirrors my actions and gently peels the bandage off my skin.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he realizes I had the same idea as him.

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