Page 176 of Riordan's Revenge

He blinked. “He did?”

“I asked because I wanted this for ye. I went first to show that it was okay.”

Slowly, he nodded, and we swapped places so Camden could do his thing. Riordan needed this. He needed to be tied to people and place. To not be an outsider looking in. In time, he’d maybe feel secure with all we had, but even then, I’d show him every day just how important he was.

When the work was done, Camden packed up. “I’ll head home. Riordan, glad to meet ye, man. Let me know if ye need any more ink. Maybe ‘I love Cassie’ across your chest.”

I snorted. “Bet.”

Riordan chuffed, and his lips curled in a smile. “Okay.”

My brother and I both stared at him.

Camden wrinkled his nose. “I was joking. Life lesson. Never tattoo a lover’s name on ye. It’s awkward as fuck if ye break up. I refuse to do it for clients.”

I pulled an incredulous expression. “Explain your wife’s name on your pecs in amongst that huge sweeping pattern that covers half your skin.”

Camden rolled his eyes. “I’m the artist and the exception that proves the rule.”

Riordan tilted his head. “What’s the pattern?”

My brother brightened. “It’s this sweeping rush of lines. Her name is Breeze, and it’s inspired by her.”

He showed him, the two of them cooing over good artwork. I sat back and watched, my chin on my hands and nothing but good feelings inside me.

“What could I have to represent Cass?”

“That’s for ye to work out. Get a concept, and I’ll turn it into a design.” Camden hugged me, slapped Riordan’s hand, then left us for the long drive home.

Riordan collected me in his arms and carried me to our bedroom. “Maybe a pile of bodies with a vicious woman standingon top with her arms up in celebration?” he mused, stripping me. “Or your face with a knife between your teeth?” On the mattress, he settled me in the middle, taking care not to touch my fresh, wrapped tattoo, the twin to his that I knew he’d wear with pride.

From a drawer, he produced a packet and tore it open, revealing new handcuffs. I gawked at them.

“Padded ones so they won’t hurt.” He clicked them around my wrists, giving me no chance to pull away as he extended my hands above my head and fastened me to a pillar on the headboard. Then he moved to my ankles, spreading my legs to tie me off to the bottom corners of the bed.

Not that long ago, this would’ve shown me he was angry, but not now. All I anticipated was pleasure. And my sweet, romantic boy delivered. He licked and sucked every part of me, leaving me squirming and cursing him because I couldn’t grab him and take my turn.

It worked for us, though. Taking a position between my spread legs, he made me come again and again before he fucked me, then he started over, cleaning me with his tongue and showing me exactly how he cared.

Love was exhausting. Love was exhilarating. When he finally released me to fall asleep on his chest, I did so imagining all the ways I could show him how he made me feel.

Morning,well, afternoon, as we never got up before four p.m., I had a couple of text messages waiting on my phone.

The first was from Genevieve, finally giving me the news that Dixie was allowing visitors, and that we could go together in a couple of hours’ time. The second was far less anticipated.

At long last, my uncle had messaged back.

Patrick: How do I know you’re for real?

I showed Riordan then hit the number to dial the man.

It rang for a while, but at last, he answered. “Yeah?”

“Ye asked how ye could be sure I’m real. I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m not interested in ye or your life. What I do want to know is what happened to Cassandra. That’s it.”

It probably wasn’t the best way to impress the man, but to my surprise, begrudgingly, Patrick started talking.

He told me a little of their childhood, and how Cassandra had been a rebel at every stage, making their father despair.

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