Page 15 of Devilish Ink

When we were alone again, Ry turned back to me.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

She slapped my arm before a muffled laugh broke through her mortification.

“You have to admit, that was pretty funny,” I said.

She rolled her eyes but she was smiling.

“Get back into position,” she said waving her gun at me.

I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laid my head back down on my forearm and she began work on my back again.

I wanted to try one more time to get information about my brother out of her.

“So…you were saying about Rian?”

“Hmm, what?” she said absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah, he’ll be back…soon, I hope.”

He’ll be back soon…youhope?

Something was up with Rian.

She shifted back, bit her lip. “And I think we’re done!”

“Great,” I managed, fighting to not sound disappointed when she unlocked my cuffs and freed me. I climbed off the table.

Ryleigh hesitated. Then she shook her head and laughed nervously. “It’s not like it makes any difference now whether you like it or not. So fuck it.”

She pushed me in front of a full-length mirror.

I’d told her not to tell me what she was tattooing. I wanted it to be a surprise.

I had no expectations of what she might tattoo on me and yet the end result still startled me.

It wasn’t its beauty, though it was undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t its uniqueness, though I’d never seen anything like it before. And it wasn’t its striking nature, even though I struggled to find air for my lungs as I studied it with increasingly hungry eyes.

It was, above all, its honesty. Its vulnerability. Its aching sadness.

A compass, detailed and impossibly intricate, seemed to float as if on crystal clear water above a map. At its heart, Ireland. A homeland.

And yet it was darkened by shadows from the compass, shading so lifelike I swore I could pluck the compass from my back. Place it into Ryleigh’s cupped hands. Guide her where she needed to go.

“You miss Ireland,” I said, reading the tattoo as much as the sadness in her eyes.

She seemed stunned that I’d seen too much.

She didn’t reply, merely turning her face away, her cheeks pink.

I studied the tattoo again.

“You yearn for…home,” I said.

“Hiraeth,” she said. It sounded likeHere-ryth.

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