Page 73 of Séance

“Ah…um…what can I help you with?” Dustin stutters, obviously not used to dealing with someone who looks like they are spun from cotton candy and sweetness. The man is nearly my size, but he’s in his late thirties with a steady tire growing around his waist.

Oh, if it came to a fight, I would want the bald asshole on my side. The man can throw a punch that could break a jaw with one swing. With tattoos crawling across every inch of his tan skin, even over his face, he couldn’t appear more opposite than Rue.

Usually, he makes his wife deal with the girls—a retired biker bitch who has a soft spot for strays like us—but Delores must be out since it’s so early.

“Um…if I have an image, could you tattoo it for me?” Rue blinks up at Dustin, and I see the moment he turns to mush.

His face softens, and he does his best to gentle his low voice so as not to scare her off. “It depends on the design. Whatcha got?”

A brilliant smile crosses her face that has Dustin blinking at her as if he’s wondering if she’s real. When she lifts her shirt and reaches for her phone, Dustin immediately snaps upright and suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.

I huff out a silent laugh, which earns me a side glare from Dustin, but he doesn’t remove his gaze from the ceiling until Jace gives him the okay. It’s not just because his wife would have his balls for looking at another girl, it’s also a show of respect.

It’s one of the reasons he’s considered one of the best artists in the country. Jace was lucky enough to apprentice under him. Though he doesn’t have a tattoo on him, claiming he’s waiting to find the perfect one, the man’s talent with tattoos is unparalleled. His ink looks like live artwork on skin. To get the job, Dustin demanded to see his work, and I volunteered to be his canvas.

Now, I won’t let anyone else touch me.

“Here!” Rue thrusts her phone toward Dustin, and he carefully takes it from her, then studies the design in minute detail, looking at the screen for nearly five minutes.

“Did you draw this?” He looks up from the phone, his faded green eyes intense.

A cute little blush fills Rue’s face, and she shrugs a bit bashfully. “Most of it. I updated it over the years, tweaking things here and there. This ended up being the final design. I even sourced the special ink needed.”

Dustin grunts, an apologetic expression crossing his face. “The design is gorgeous, but the fine lines are not my forte. You need someone who specializes in that area.”

Rue’s face falls, and I want to reach over and pound Dustin into meat paste for upsetting her. When she reaches for the phone, Dustin holds it toward Jace instead. “If anyone can ink the design, it will be him.”

Rue turns, and her eyes go wide. She glances at her phone almost protectively, looking ready to snatch it away, then she wrings her hands together and waits for his verdict. Curious, I lean over and peek over at the screen…then still.

I curl my hands into fists to stop myself from stealing the phone away. I’m leaning so close that I’m practically breathing on Jace, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he studies the image. We’re both looking at it so closely that only a few inches separate us.

It only takes a quick glance, and I’m lost. I don’t need to see more to know I want her design on my skin, feeling possessive of the drawing in a way that I don’t want anyone else to even see it and think they can take it from me.

A giant sword slices down the center of the image, the tip shattered and cracked. It pierces a heart through the middle, blood dripping from the mortal wound. It’s so vividly drawn that it looks like it’s still bleeding as a bead of red dribbles down the blade. Tiny symbols are etched into the blade, guard, and handle, giving it an ancient, bloodthirsty vibe.

Behind the image is a giant set of angel wings, the feathers so detailed they almost look like they are moving in an invisible breeze. I touch the screen, expecting to feel feathers, and only come back to myself when the cool surface meets my fingertips.

The edges of a couple of flight feathers appear to be disintegrating, fading into dust. They remind me of my sister and her strength, even as she faded away from us.

I glance at Rue, not even giving a fuck if my expression is pleading. “Tattoo me.”

A brilliant smile crosses her features, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do you even have room?”

I’m nodding before she even finishes her sentence. “I’ve been saving a spot across my back for something special. I didn’t realize what I wanted until now.”

It’s more than just the tattoo.

It’s her art, a piece of her soul on paper, and I want this little piece of her for myself, even if I have to lie, cheat, or steal to get it.

No, that’s a lie.

I want everything from her. From her laughter to her tears, her demons and her orgasms. If it takes sharing her with these fuckers to put my claim on her, then so fucking be it.

Her humor fades, and she presses a hand to my chest. “It’s yours. I think it’s always been yours.”

I’m not one for physical displays of affection. After being pushed away or slapped enough times as a child, you learn to keep your distance, but distance is the last thing I want with Rue. I gingerly reach out and envelop her in my arms. She’s as light as a feather, barely a speck in my arms, and I’m careful not to crush her as I bury my face in her hair. Breathing in her light, smoky floral scent eases something in my chest, and I’m beginning to understand why people hug and touch each other so often.

It’s addicting as fuck…or at least it is with Rue.

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