Page 102 of Sinful Mates

Shock rocked the bond as if I’d dropped a bomb on it. “I thought you didn’t want to be a Jackal anymore?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m a Jackal.” I played with the hair at the back of his neck. “It represents you. My War and Chaos god. My jackal shifter mate.”

Elation on the bond said my gesture honored and touched him.

He circled his finger on my upper arm. “I want mine here.”

“Okay.” I stroked his beard. “But leave room for my other mates, okay?”

Slade’s brows hiked. “How much ink are we talking?”

“Four tattoos for four sexy mates.”

“Sexy, all-fucking-right.” He grunted and swiped a thumb along my cheek. “We’ll be here all day. Tomorrow too.”

Not a problem. I could come with Alaric or Zethan. They wanted to maximize their time with me in case they were convicted and sentenced. But this was more of a Slade thing.

“You got plans?” I asked.

“Not when it comes to you.” Fuck. Slade took all my feedback into consideration from when I rescued Mia. He was doing everything he could to save our relationship and show me what I meant to him.

Streaming with joy and some guilt, I almost broke down and cried. My mind scrambled for something to do to show him I was sorry for hiding Mia from him.

“Come here, sugar.” Slade hoisted me off the floor and brutally kissed me, leaving my mouth bruised and aching for fire to burn away the pleasant sting. “This was worth the surprise. I fucking love you.”

My heart felt so full it would burst. I was so fucking happy.

“Love you too, my rugged mate,” I replied as he carried me to the back and ushered me into the chair, forcing me to recline on it.

Slade grinned and shouted, “Benny, make sure you write Property of Slade Vincent!”

CHAPTER35

Aaliyah

Two glassesof whisky waited for us and we collected them, clinking them together and toasting, “to us,” before drinking.

“What’ll it be?” Benny prepared his needles and ink.

“A jackal like on our logo,” Slade ordered.

Benny cleansed my arm with an antiseptic wipe. “Coming right up.” Then he got to work tracing an outline over my arm.

I flashed teeth at the first sting of the needle.

“If you can feel it, you haven’t had enough.” Slade poured me a triple finger and shoved it under my nose.

I pushed it away. “I’ve gotta ride, Mr. Vincent.”

“Fuck that. I am.” He glared at me for letting out that little secret. Whoops! “We’re not leaving here for a good three hours. Plenty of time to get sober.” He stroked my thigh. “After a while, it’ll go numb, and you won’t need as much pain relief.” He grinned like the devil he was.

“Okay. But if we get pulled over by the cops—”

“I’ll kill them.” His cheeky grin said he wouldn’t.

Slade was right, my arm numbed by the first hour of the first tattoo.

“You’re doing good, sugar.” He kept rubbing my hand to soothe me. “Want another whisky?”

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