Page 55 of Underworld

“He’s not the only one you worried, JB.”

I sigh as I say, “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“How the hell do you know Anthony?” Zane asks, confused.

Tony sets me down, and I turn toward my guys, pointing over my shoulder. “Big T was the one who did all of my tattoos before I ran off.” I turn back to Cade and Tony, tapping a finger to my lips as I think aloud. “You know . . . now that I think about it, I remember seeing Blair and Knox in passing. But I just pushed them to the background.”

I point to Cade and ask, “What are you doing here?”

He smirks as he points to Tony. “I help him set up for these facial tattoos.”

“Do a lot of these?” I ask, arching a brow at Tony.

He shakes his head as he points to my guys. “They were the last people I did.” He gestures to the seat and says, “Have a seat. I’m all set up.” He snaps on a pair of gloves and hands a pair of gloves to Cade as well. Then he hands him a tube of numbing cream.

I sit down in the chair, laying back and getting comfortable. I point to the cream and ask, “Did the guys use numbing cream for theirs?”

Before Cade can answer, a snort sounds behind me. I arch my back to tilt my head to look at my guys. “What?”

Howe points to his face, saying, “They didn’t have numbing cream when we got our tattoos.”

Settling back into the chair, I shrug. “Then I won’t get numbing cream either.”

Cade turns to the guys behind me, eyes wide, before looking back down at me. “I would highly recommend using the cream. Without it, your face will feel like it’s peeling off by the end of the tattoo.”

I shrug again as I close my eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time my face has felt like that.”

There’s a growl behind me, then Zane’s gruff voice echoes throughout the room as he snaps, “Just use the cream, Jane.”

“Fuck that shit. I’m a tough-ass bitch. I’m earning my Persephone tattoo.”

“What the hell is with your obsession with earning your tattoo?” Jace growls loudly.

I open my eyes to find Tony looking down at me. His eyes search mine before he nods. “We can stop anytime if she needs to.” The buzz of the machine starting is loud in the now quiet room.

I close my eyes again as the buzzing gets closer to my face. I am Persephone. I’m the motherfucking Queen of the Underworld.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jane

I rub healing cream on my face as I look at my reflection in the mirror. The guys gave me a small UV light to use in my bathroom. My face was sore as fuck after getting the tattoo, and it took a good three days for the swelling to go down. It’s been a week now, and it’s healing amazingly.

Pulling my hand away from my face, I stare at my reflection. I absolutely love my tattoo. One side of my face is identical to Jace’s. It's the outline of a skeletal face, while the other side is pure life. I have outlines of flowers, and the outline around my eye looks similar to the sugar skull designs I’ve seen used for Day of the Dead makeup. Flowers and swirls decorate that side of my face.

Flipping the switch beside me, the room is bathed in light. My hair is now dyed to resemble the difference in my facial tattoo. On the side with the flowers, my hair is still my regular pastel, oil-slick prism. Whereas the side that resembles death is now dark with light-colored highlights. It reminds me of what oil looks like when the light hits it at just the right angle to make small rainbows.

A knock on the door has my gaze flicking up to find Zane. My brows furrow in confusion. He isn’t the one who usually comes to collect me. It’s usually Howe and Alec, mainly because they love to cause trouble until Jace gets irritated. Or it’s Jace, and that's usually because I’m taking too long.

I turn to face Zane as I lean against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

He arches a brow as he leans against the door frame. “Does there have to be a problem?”

“You never come and get me before we leave for the cave. So . . . either something is wrong, or you’ve been body snatched.”

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the edge of a smirk. He pushes off the door frame and walks toward me. “There is a small problem, but nothing the Hounds can’t handle.”

I laugh as I ask, “So there was a problem?” He shrugs as he leans into me, caging me between the counter and his chest. He stares at me momentarily before sighing and settling his forehead against my shoulder. Slowly wrapping my arms around him, I ask, “This isn’t a small problem, is it?”

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