Page 42 of Baited

Of course it is.

“Oh.” I’m not entirely sure what to say given the amount of alien (and thankfully not Blayn’s) flesh on display in the images, most of which moves and undulates.

“He displays my artwork in the dome, and it has brought me many customers.” The Yetag grins. “So, any friend of Blayn’s isa friend of mine.” He sizes me up. “You’re a little small for a gladiator.”

“I’m not a gladiator.” I stare at him. He stares back.

“Do you want some artwork?” he asks.

I have another look at the wall while I formulate an answer which isn’t going to insult anyone, most of all Blayn.

“Not today. I’m just looking,” I say lamely.

The Yetag shrugs. “It’s an important decision. You should not rush it,” he says, tentacle arms undulating, and he grins again. “Blayn likes to take his time in choosing.”

“That’s…good to know,” I reply, finally spotting a small image near the top of the wall which I recognize as Blayn’s chiseled abs.

“Come through while we wait for his return.” The Yetag hurries through a concealed door. “I have refreshments.”

I’m about to step into the back room when a flurry of activity near the door catches my attention, and Blayn snarls his way in.

His gaze locks with mine.

“This is where you like to go?” I query.

Blayn nods his head as the commotion outside dies down. “I like it here. Voyon is good.”

“You often fall asleep in the chair.” The Yetag, Voyon, chuckles. “No matter the size of the piece.”

For an instant, Blayn looks like thunder, then his face clears. “I like your work,” he says simply.

“You mean having a tattoo here is painful?” I query

Both Voyon and Blayn look at me. “You expect no pain?” Blayn asks.

“On my planet, yes, but here”—I wave my arms vaguely around—“you’re so much more sophisticated. I’d have thought there would be a method which wasn’t painful.”

“My Izzy has no ink,” Blayn says to Voyon. “I checked. Everywhere.”

My mouth drops open, my cheeks heating, and I shut it with a snap as Voyon smiles.

“I have asked her what she wants, but she says she is undecided.” He leans forward, checks on Blayn, then thinks better of it, standing straight again. “It doesn’t have to be painful. Some”—he jerks his head at Blayn—“prefer it that way.”

My mouth forms an “o” shape.

Blayn likes the pain?

“You want some artwork?” Blayn queries, the full force of his gorgeous eyes turned on me. “Voyon is the best.”

His muscles ripple, showing off his tattoos to their best, distracting effect.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it,” I say truthfully, gazing at Blayn’s tattooed torso, the emblems and runes indecipherable to me but meaningful to him.

“Have you decided on your next piece?” Voyon asks him.

Blayn gives me a glance and clears his throat. “I have.”

“So?” Voyon queries.

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