Page 115 of The Gamma's Second Chance

My hands shake asI sit in the tattooist’s chair, butterflies swarming in my stomach as I wait for her to begin. Nolan takes one of them between his hands and rubs them, sending warmth and love into me with his touch and through our bond. I shut my eyes, still unaccustomed to the feel of the bond between us.It’s a surprise to me every time we touch or any time I feel his emotions flooding towards me from his end.

He offered to block them, to keep a thin wall up between us until I acclimated to it, but I declined. I want to sense him always. I want to taste the decadence of his love and feel it wrapping around me like an embrace. His love for me runs deeper than the deepest trench in the ocean, and its music feeds my soul.

“Are you all right?” he asks me, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m a little nervous,” I say, chuckling anxiously. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo.”

“It only hurts a little,” he reassures me, smiling.

I glance down at the tattoo on his left forearm—my name, freshly inked into his skin, with a petite daisy attached to the “a” at the end. He went first so I could watch, to ease my nerves, but I’m not sure it helped much.

“I need you to distract me,” I say, lifting my eyes back to his as the tattoo artist fires up the gun and puts her hand on my leg to ready herself.

Nolan arches a brow. “Distract you how?”

I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t care how.”

“Well, I can’t do what I’d normally do to distract you,” he murmurs in a low voice, tucking my hair behind my ear and running his fingers through to the ends, and the tattoo artist snickers. “So I need a little guidance here, Daisy.”

I nod and bite my lip as the first sting of the needles hits my skin. “Your tattoos,” I blurt, my voice almost a gasp.

He arches a brow. “My tattoos?”

I nod. “Tell me about them.”

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, harder, as he leans in closer and whispers to me in his deep voice. “The one on my chest is of the lakeshore.”

“It matches the drawing in our kitchen.”

He nods. “It’s a picture Maddie drew in art class when she was eight. She had a print made for everyone for Christmas that year. We all—Wes, Reid, Seb, and myself—got a tattoo of it after Wesley and Reid turned eighteen. Well, Sebastian got his a few years later.”

“I’ve seen Wesley’s,” I tell him. “It’s on his biceps.”

“Sebastian’s is on his calf, and Reid’s is…” He smirks, a laugh twitching his lips.

“It’s where?” I ask, laughing with him even though he hasn’t told me yet.

“Okay, so, Reid and Sebastian used to make ridiculous bets on anything and everything,” he says, still laughing. “Sebastian never lost, but Reid never learned. I don’t even remember what they bet on that time, but if Reid lost, he had to let Sebastian choose where his tattoo would be.”

“And?”

“And Sebastian chose Reid’s ass.”

My jaw drops open, and I cover my mouth with the hand he’s not holding. “He did not!”

“He did,” he confirms with a nod. “But don’t tell Reid I told you. We’re not supposed to tell anyone. Although”—he winks at me—“I don’t think that rule applies to mates.”

I laugh harder, working to keep the laughter from shaking my body too much so it doesn’t interfere with the tattooist’s work. “That is hilarious.”

“Hence why Reid always says nothing good ever comes from betting with Sebastian.”

“Except his mate and kids,” I remind him. “He was extremely quick to point that out.”

“Except them,” Nolan agrees, chuckling still.

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, then lowers it and stares down at it as his thumb strokes the skin idly.

“If or when I’m ever ready to consider other options—”

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