Page 20 of Dare To Take

“Let’s do this then.”

“Can you put these three letters in red?” I point at the ones I mean.

“Sure thing.”

A minute later, the buzz of the tattoo pen fills the air, and that familiar sensation hits my skin. I let my eyes drift closed, the repetitive swipe of the pen lulling me into an almost meditative state.

It feels like I’ve just closed my eyes when he announces it’s done. He wipes it clean and grabs the mirror.

“What do you think?”

I read the words and smile, nodding. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Chapter 14

Arabella

Eli has the scratches I’d left tattooed on his neck? Wounds I’d made when we had sex.

I stare blindly down at the book in front of me, not really seeing the images, my mind puzzling over the mystery of his actions.

Why? As a trophy? Something to immortalize taking my virginity?

I should be angry, but instead, I find a strange, perverse pleasure that they are now permanently marked on his body for all to see.

A buzzing sound penetrates my thoughts, and I glance up to see Eli stretched on the tattoo couch. His black t-shirt has been tugged up, and the tattooist is busy inking something into his skin. I lick my lips at the tanned and toned skin on display, then catch myself, and redirect my attention to the tattoo pen moving over him.

A thread of nervousness winds around me.

Does it hurt?

I take in the expression on Eli’s face. His eyes are closed, and there’s a look of almost- pleasure on his face.

Of course, he likes the pain. That’s probably why he has so many tattoos. He’s addicted to it.

Tearing my attention away from him, I return it to the book in front of me. I flip through the pages, seeing design after design, but nothing catches my eye. I’m halfway through when I finally find what I want.

“What do you think?”

Terry’s question draws my gaze back toward them. The tattooist is holding up a mirror, but the angle they’re standing at means I can’t see what Eli’s tattoo is.

Eli smiles. “Perfect.”

And then he turns … and my mind blanks when I see what has been tattooed over his ribs.

Nasty Little Monster in black and red is stark against his tanned skin in flowing letters.

I’m pretty certain my confusion is unguarded on my face. My mouth dries up, and I force myself to look back at the pictures in the book on the table.

That’s what I called him the morning I ran away. I want to ask him why he has it, but I’m wary of the tattooist listening.

Why should I even care why he’s done it? Another taunt at me for what happened. Another reminder of the hate between us.

“Have you picked a design, honey?”

Raising my head, I find Terry beside me.

“I want this.” I tap my finger over the image of a butterfly that looks so real it almost flutters off the page. “Just a small one. And could it be blue?”

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