Page 72 of Burn With Me

Do I like the thought of leaving my mark on Isaac Icari? I’m afraid I do. All the shit he’s put me through until now? It fades into the background in the face of my curiosity. Why is he even offering to let me do something like this? What is his goal? What’s his aim? Is this some sort of psychological torture?

“Even if you manage to fuck it up,” Isaac says as he rips open the last package, a long pair of what looks like thin scissors, except instead of sharp blades, the ends are flat and circular, leaving an opening for the piercing, I assume. “It’ll heal.”

“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say to that, so I just sit there quietly as the buzzing under my skin takes over. It rolls through my body. I glance to the side, the bottle of vodka grabbing my attention.

Before I can think better of it, I snatch it up. Isaac pauses, maybe in surprise, maybe in confusion. Whatever the case, he doesn’t stop me as I unscrew the top and tip it back, dumping a mouthful of the liquid fire down my throat. It fucking burns. I cough and gasp for breath as I lower the bottle and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

“Feel better?” Isaac asks.

The buzzing quiets marginally. “A little,” I admit.

He smirks and finishes setting things up. “Good, then I’ll explain how you’re going to do this.”

“Do you have any other piercings?” I ask.

He blinks. “No, I don’t.”

“Then how do you know how to do it?”

“I’ve seen Paris get his done, and I’ve seen many of his … well to call them girlfriends might be a bit of an overstatement, but suffice it to say—I’ve seen it done many times.”

“But you’re not a professional,” I point out, “and neither am I. Are you really sure you want me to do this?”

“Aurora.” The buzzing is back. Violently slamming through my system. How the hell does hedothat? I’ve always hated my full name—it sounds like I’m in trouble. Coming from Isaac, though, it sounds special. Different. He’s the only one who doesn’t call me Rori. Damn him, but I know he’s fully aware of how it makes me feel. It’s there in the glittering cerulean blue of his eyes. “I’m sure.” He hands me a pair of black gloves. “Now, put these on.”

Nerves jump and dance along my spine, but I do as I’m commanded. I pull the gloves on, making sure my fingers are all the way through their little holes and pulling the latex tight. “Take the clamp.” I’m moving on autopilot as I unclench my fingers and take the clamp.

“Good girl.” He strokes my hair back away from my face. I shiver under the intensity of his gaze and those words. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” I stare right into his face as he explains the process and when he’s done, he makes me repeat it to him twice. The longer he talks, the less my nerves jump. It’s like there’s some sort of audible drug in his voice that calms me. He’s got the kind of deep, soothing tone that could either put someone to sleep or make them think of dark rooms, cool sheets, and sweat soaked bodies.

Isaac tips his head back and pulls on gloves himself. “Put the tube on the needle,” he orders. As I follow his orders, I realize … I’m not shaking anymore. My hands are steady. Maybe inside, I’m rioting, but outside, I’m calm. It’s a strange paradox.

“Why are you wearing gloves if I’m the one doing this?” I ask as I finish putting the tube on the needle.

He arches his brow as he takes the piercing bar and unscrews it, setting the two parts on the towel next to us before turning back to me and tipping his head back and opening his mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Sunshine,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

My gaze flickers from his eyes back down to his tongue as he lets it hang open. I slide the ends of the clamp handles through my fingers and hold on tight as I lift it and then tighten its hold on his tongue. Isaac watches me, his tongue completely still. Is that normal? I wonder absently. I thought tongues were always jumping and moving. I thought the muscles just had to.

Not Isaac’s though. He’s completely still. The only thing moving are his eyes and the fingers on my thighs. He strokes me gently, his thumb rubbing back and forth as I clamp him and then lift the needle, pointing it to the underside of his tongue.

One.I take a breath.

Two.I meet his gaze.

Three.I pierce his tongue.

The needle slides through his flesh easily—too easily. It kind of surprises me. The tube goes up with it, and I quickly take the needle out, dropping it onto the towel. I reach for the long part of the bar piercing and slide it into the tube through Isaac’s tongue.

I concentrate on the task at hand, repeating the process Isaac explained to me over and over again in my head. Pull the tube back through with the piercing. The tube lands on the towel. Isaac doesn’t even flinch as I remove the clamp. His eyes are centered squarely on me. I drop the clamp and pick up the ball, screwing it onto the bottom of the piercing bar. Blood smears my latex covered fingers, lingering on the top and bottom of his tongue.

Now, I have to clean it. But…

I look at the bottle of piercing cleaner sitting next to the used tools and then over to the side.

“What are you thinking, Sunshine?” Isaac’s voice is slurred with his tongue hanging slightly out.

“Marking you…” I murmur as I pick up the bottle of vodka. His eyes widen ever so slightly as I keep my gaze on him and tip the bottle back. This time, though, I don’t swallow.

I grab ahold of his chin and lean over him. My lips part and he keeps his mouth open for me. Blood smears on his chin from my fingers as I hold him steady and release the stream of vodka directly onto his tongue, from my mouth to his. The alcohol flows over the top of the piercing and then down further into his mouth.

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