Page 62 of Possession

I kissed her forehead and spoke, my lips smiling against her skin, “I can do that.” The steady tone of my voice hid the true excitement. She had no idea how much I wanted to mark her skin with my own hand. My handwriting inked into her flesh… forever… she was wrong, she was whyIbreathed again. Why I even existed beyond mist and hallucinations.

Her lips pulled into a slow, broad smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Paige was lying on her back, her shirt was off, and her arms rested comfortably above her head. Her white skin looked like porcelain against the blood-red vinyl of my work table, the only thing that interrupted the smooth line of alabaster was her nude-colored lace bra. The hard curve of it just two inches above where I planned to place the quote. If this was like any other day, Liam would swear at me, or Kemper would make some crude comment and the picture before me would’ve rippled like the flat surface of a lake just as it began to rain. But, it wasn’t any other day, it was right now, just past one in the morning, and I was all alone in Avenues with Paige.

She gave me a shaky smile. “Are you nervous?”

The humor in her voice steadied my own trembling fingertip as I traced the pad of my forefinger along the rib that would bear my mark for life. “I’ve never been nervous before, but I am now.” Self-doubt crept in and I heard the whispers of shadows prickle inside my brain.

She lowered her arm and placed her hand on my cheek. “I want this.”

You’ll stain her.

The familiar voice was slippery and moved easily through the wall I’d created to keep it out, the wall Paige had always made stronger, the wall that would always have holes in its armor no matter what I did.

“Come back to me,” she whispered, and I lifted my blank stare to hers. The twisted voice in my head faded. “There you are.” Her smile was kind, filled with love, and it abated the pain growing behind my temples.

She trusts you. She loves you.

She moved her arm back above her head and I turned on my machine. The initial buzz made her jump and she laughed.

I held my machine in my right hand and used my foot to roll the stool that held my ink a little closer. I took a deep breath and ran the fingers of my left hand along the rib one last time. I chose not to wear gloves. What was the point? I wanted to feel the ink and her blood on my skin. I wanted it to set under my fingernails, and tint the hard surface of my knuckles.

“This is going to hurt,” I said and her lips began to quiver, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. It was only ink in flesh, but this meant more to me than sex, than any words of affirmation ever would.

“I know.” The corners of her lips twitched with a smile as her nose wrinkled and her eyes clamped shut.

Paige was giving me her body, I would always be present below the cells, inside her skin, thriving with words that gave meaning to us. I leaned over and kissed the spot just as reverently as she’d kissed me earlier back at the studio. I asked quietly, “Are you ready?”

She nodded her head and I brought the needle to her skin as she cringed. The pain was creased along her features and her skin was goose flesh; raised, and welted pink along the edges of where I worked. The words took form along her rib in my own sloping script. She didn’t speak, just breathed through it. I was bringing her to the brink, almost to the edge of her limit, but she never broke.

The vibration stopped and all I could hear was her heavy breathing. I set my machine down and wiped away the excess ink. She flinched, but as I brought my lips to hers, her body relaxed, unwound, and finally she opened her eyes. I pulled away with a smile.

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

I chuckled.

“Do you want see it?” I asked, as my eyes devoured the ink, and a feral pride coursed through me.

The shadow from before was blinded by the light of her smile. “Yes.”

I helped her up and stood her in front of the mirror. She leaned her back against my chest, raising her left arm and wrapping her fingers into my hairline. I held her right hip as her eyes scanned the phrase. Her lips moved as she mouthed the words, “I am, I am, I am.” Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “It’s perfect.”

I was struck by the image that was reflected back at me. She was touching me, and I was touching her.

We were one infinite line as I brought my lips to her ear and said, “This is forever.”

This is forever…

Thisis forever…

Forever, with Declan, was the only Heaven I ever wanted to go to. My tattoo was only two weeks old, and every time I caught sight of it I’d hear him say those three words in my head.This is forever.Today was no different as I stood fresh from the shower with my towel pooled around my feet.I ran my fingers over the ink and smiled. I’d decided, in the end, just the words were enough, I’d loved the heartbeat Declan had originally drawn, but the words, and howhehad breathed life back intome—this was exactly how I’d wanted it.

I stayed with him that night, and we’d made love until the pink rays of dawn filled his room. We’d discovered each other again, and each time, he’d show me what I was capable of feeling, what I’d been deprived of, what he’d been without, for so long. Each time, our craving for the other had become more desperate instead of sated, until we’d both lie spent, saturated in the other’s scent.

We’d slept the day away, neither of us working that weekend. Over the weekend we’d numbered the pieces in the studio, and Liam and Kieran had helped pick them up and hang them on the blank brick above Declan’s bed. Even though Liam’s reception of me had been frosty at first, by the end of the weekend he’d come around a little more. These past two weeks, every night when I was alone, I still prayed on my knees and thanked God for bringing Declan back to me. We’d spent every night together that we could, Lana was starting to tease me about maybe getting another roommate because I was never here. Tonight I was going to his mother’s house for dinner, just me and him. He never finished framing the large piece he’d painted at the studio and he wanted to work on it.

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