Page 110 of Bonds of Obsession

I don’t recognize it, which means Imogen must’ve left it here along with all the other supplies she provided.

I frown, unsure of what the hell is about to happen. Killian has never wanted tattoos. He’s made that clear from day one. He’s said—from his own lips—that tattoos were pointless modifications, unnecessary marks that didn’t mean shit.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out so quiet it’s barely above a whisper.

He sets the kit down carefully, like it’s something so precious or so dangerous that he’s almost scared to fuck with it.

“When I was a kid on the streets,” he says, his eyes locked on to that kit. “My mother’s marks were all over my body. My arms, my legs, my back… everywhere. I couldn’t get rid of them and couldn’t change them.”

I know what he means. The scars. The burn marks. The evidence of everything she did to him.

“I swore I’d never voluntarily mark my body.” His deep voice is so low and rumbling that I have to lean in to hear. “I swore I’d never let anyone leave their mark on me.”

“Killian—”

“But I want yours.” He finally meets my eyes. “I want your ring, like Nico and Atlas have. I want everyone to know that I belong to you and that you belong to me.”

My hands are shaking as I reach for the kit. “Are you sure about this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

“But you hate tattoos.” I have to say it. I have to give him one last chance to back out. “You just said you’ve always hated them.”

“No.” He catches my wrist. “I just said I hated the idea of being marked. Of being owned.” His grip tightens. “But I’m already yours. I have been for a while now.”

Heat floods my chest. Through the doorway, I catch Atlas’s small smile before he backs away, giving us privacy.

“It’ll hurt,” I warn, but we both know that’s not what this is about.

“Good.” His eyes lock on mine. “I want to feel you marking me. I want to remember this moment every time I look at it.”

My towel is slipping as I reach for the tattoo gun, but I don’t care. The thought of tattooing him while I’m naked makes the moment even more intimate.

“Where?” I ask.

He taps his chest, right over his heart. The same place Atlas and Nico wear my ring.

“Do it,” he says without any hesitation in his tone. “Make me yours.”

34

KILLIAN

The lookon Quinn’s face hits me hard. There’s something vulnerable in her eyes, something that instantly makes my walls come down and drives me fucking crazy. My fingers find her throat before I can even think about it, wrapping around with just enough pressure to tip her head back and make her look me in the eyes.

“You’re right.” My voice comes out rougher than I meant it to. “I never wanted a tattoo. Never understood why anyone would mark themselves permanently.” I lean closer, breathing in the clean scent of her shower-damp skin. “And after this? I’ll never want another one.”

Her pulse jumps beneath my palm. She’s still holding the tattoo gun, but her hand trembles slightly.

“This is the only mark I’ll ever want.” I squeeze her throat a fraction tighter, watching her pupils dilate. “The only one that matters. Your mark.”

Something flashes in her eyes—understanding, maybe. Or possession. It mirrors the feeling burning in my chest, the need to belong to her completely. I’ve never belonged to anyone, never wanted to. But with Quinn, it’s different. Everything with her is different.

“You’ve already marked me in other ways,” I tell her, thinking of how she’s carved herself into other parts of me that I swore I’d never let anyone get to. Like my head. And my fucking heart. “This is just making it visible. Making it permanent. Now stop stalling, siren, and mark me properly.”

“Lie down,” she says. “And lose the shirt.”

I strip it off with one hand, not taking my eyes off her for a second as I stretch out on the bed. Every fucking move she makes has my attention locked on her like a predator watching its prey, although fuck knows which one of us is really the predator here.

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