Page 95 of Devilish Ink

But Balor was still out there.

Rian was still so far out of reach.

Nothing had changed.

And yet everything had. Liam and I had tied chains around each other.

The tattoo of the couple wrapped round in iron was our future.

I’d dreamed of it then. Fantasised about it in the pink glow of the tattoo parlour.

But now I was afraid that we might be too close.

When I was dragged into deep waters, how were we to swim? Chained up tight, chest to chest, how were we to do anything other than drown?

LIAM

It wasn’t just about me anymore. Wasn’t even just about Rian.

It was about the woman I loved. Her life. Her safety. Her trust.

After her nightmare, I carried Ry into my apartment and tucked her against me. But it was hours before she stopped trembling and her breathing finally evened out.

My heart ached as I curled around her like armour.

I couldn’t be by her side every single second. I needed an army to keep Ry safe, and I needed to start recruiting. And Rian was first in line.

I wrenched open the front door of Dublin Ink, something I’d avoided doing for weeks. But now I had a purpose.

It was no longer about me and that black pit in my heart. It was about keeping Ry safe in Dublin until I could fix it, permanently. I had one purpose, one focus as the little bell rang above my head.

But that didn’t mean seeing my brother’s eyes morph into pinpricks of hatred didn’t feel like a punch to my gut.

Rian pushed out of his chair so violently that it crashed back,toppling over and tearing against the brick wall behind him. He was alone in the shop, but I was fairly certain he would have shouted even if there had been a client in each chair.

“Get the fuck out!”

He advanced on me like he was going to shove me right out onto the sidewalk if I didn’t move. Like I didn’t have half a head on him. And a good thirty pounds of muscle.

“Rian, we can talk like adults, can’t we?” I tried, holding up my hands as if that alone could prove my innocence.

Rian wrenched open the front door and jammed his finger out into the deepening dusk.

“Paying customers only,” he said, chest heaving.

The little bell’s echo faded and then died. A car passed in the street outside. Its headlights fell on us and then that too moved on. We could hear its tires for a block or two and then nothing. We stood there and only the occasional snap and pop of the neon sign on the wall above the stairs marked that any time was passing at all.

“Well,” I said, “it seems I’m in luck.”

Rian’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

I held up my hands in a loose shrug. “That’s what I am.”

Rian’s hand had yet to fall from where he pointed outside. It did then. Just an inch or two.

“You’re what?” he asked.

I think he already knew the answer. I think he already resented it.

---