Page 32 of Eden's Deliverance

I run all of their stencils through the thermofax machine, then go through the steps in my head for proper application.Shave the hair around the area. Apply alcohol to clean and dry the skin. Rub in the stencil gel. Place the stencil. Let it dry.

Barely holding on to my sanity, I excuse myself to have a cigarette while their stencils settle. The biting chill is back, comforting my overheated skin until the sweat is gone and I can finally breathe again.

I don’t know what to fucking do. I can’t do this…I just can’t.

I can’t make small talk with them, and I can’t handle their inevitable criticism. Skylar and I can barely stand being in the same room with each other when we’re forced into tolerance around our parents. But here, in public? There’s no way.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Skylar and Julian emerge through the front door. I’m prepared for the barrage of battery that’s sure to come from their mouths, but instead, Julian just asks for a light. I didn’t know Skylar even smoked, but here we all are, huddled at the corner of the building and sharing a cloud of smoke between us.

“Have you done a lot today?”

“Huh?” I’d just come to terms with the fact that I might have some peace and quiet among this awkward exchange. I wasn’t expecting them to talk to me again, so my mind was miles away.

“The flash. Have you gotten to do a bunch of them today?” It’s Julian who’s asking, puffing on his cigarette while he leans against the brick and looks down at me.

Fuck, he’s pretty. His eyes vaguely resemble sapphires—such a deep blue, there’s barely any shine to them in the sunlight. The color sends a shiver down my spine, reminding me of the visit to Eden when I made Penelope give me her Sapphire mask.

I’m still in recovery from that one.

Just thinking about it causes a phantom tightness in my throat that makes it hard to breathe. That night was such a turning point for me, driving me away from my mystery men and into the arms of a new, more thoughtful partner.

He’s come to my rescue twice now. After Casanova abandoned me during my first visit, he found me and finished me off. Then, when Broody tried dancing with me, he stepped in to scare him away.

My new guy takes care of me; he fucks me without the fight and pleasures me without the teasing. It may be safe, but it’s comfortable.

“You’re actually my first. I hope that’s alright. Seriously, I won’t be offended if you want to go to another artist. I know you’re already working with Jason on your back piece.” If I thought I could manage one last plea for them to change their minds, I was severely mistaken.

“It’s alright. We don’t mind.” He’s still looking at me with those deep pools of blue, and it makes my skin crawl.

Why the fuck is he being so nice? He’s Satan’s right hand. He’s supposed to be picking on and torturing me, seeking approval from his master. And why does he keep looking at me like that? His gaze is penetrating, burning right through me with an intention I can’t decipher. Like he’s trying to read me, see inside me, or find some weakness I’m not willing to show.

We finish our cigarettes in silence, and it takes all my strength to avoid his stare. That doesn’t do me much good when the alternative is looking into Skylar’s eyes—the green edges of his irises burning into the brown around his pupils.

They’re electrifying, and I don’t get the sense he’s feeling his usual hateful self. When I interprethisglare, there’s an unsatisfied longing I know can’t be meant for me.

Maybe he’s as desperate to get out of here as I am.

“Okay, let’s get started then.” I toss the butt of my cigarette into the receptacle against the wall and lead the boys back inside.

Tommy is the first to go, opting to get his flash directly on the face of his forearm so he can watch and taunt me the entire time, no doubt. I’m careful to set up my station, making sure I run through the checklist in my head to avoid missing any steps that may embarrass me.

When I’ve confirmed that he’s ready for me to start, I click the lining cartridge into my machine and hover the tip over his stencil. If I breathe deep enough and completely ignore his wandering eyes, it’s pretty easy to get lost in my head and drown out my surroundings.

The needle lowers into his skin effortlessly, and I hold my breath when I pull the first line, staying as steady as possible. I make it through lining the handle of the knife, so all that’s left is the long, straight lines of the cleaver blade.

I sense the sneer on his face, as if he knows this is the part I’m most nervous about. He’s ready to attack and ridicule, and I’m the prime target.

Julian is standing directly behind Tommy, and I don’t know why I do it, but I glance up at him. The kind smile he gives me throws off my prior perception of his character, yet it calms me, nonetheless. There’s something so soothing about his presence here, way beyond the good looks. The little curve of his lips gives me the confidence I needed to push through.

To everyone’s surprise—none more than mine—I manage to pull the line flawlessly, connecting the blunt edge to the tip of the blade. From then on, I only need to shade the handle, then we’re done.

Tommy almost looks disappointed for the tattoo to have turned out so good.Fucking prick.I clean the wound and apply a second-skin bandage before breaking down my station and setting it up for Julian to go next.

All in all, everything goes smoothly.

It took another hour or so to finish all their pieces, but now the boys are checking out the tattoos together in the mirror by the lobby. Tommy got the butcher knife on his forearm, Julian and Skylar got plastic vampire teeth on their biceps, and Nathan Carr got a ghost on his tricep. They’re quick to pay and leave the studio, but on his way out the door, Julian tips his head to signal for me to follow them out.

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