Page 74 of Séance

She wraps her arms around me slowly, and I suspect she was raised similarly to me, which has my heart breaking.

Maybe we can learn to trust others together, because one thing is abundantly clear—I’m not letting her go.

Ever.

“You want this as your back piece?” Jace asks, finally lifting his head from the phone. His eyes are slightly unfocused, alreadyworking on how to transfer the image to skin. “I think I should be able to do it, but it’s going to take more than a few hours.”

A giant grin takes over my face, and I’m already ripping my shirt over my head.

Jace sends a copy of the image to the computer to print out and begins tracing, glancing at Rue as he follows me behind the counter. “You said you have special ink?”

Interest sharpens his pale blue eyes, and I leave them to talk, stalking toward the empty chair and straddling it, determined not to leave until the tattoo is inked on my skin.

“Yes, the symbols on the sword need special ink. It’s at my house. I?—”

“I’ll have Ellis grab it and bring it to us.” James is already on his phone. “Just tell me where to look for it.”

“It’s in a case under my bed.” Rue looks dazed at the speed of events, her eyes turning toward Jace again. “You can change the rest of the tattoo, but those symbols have to be exact. Understand?”

Some hidden message passes between them. I’m curious, but I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to upset either of them until the tattoo is a done deal.

Nothing and no one is going to take this away from me.

As the others get to work, Dustin huffs and shoots us a rueful smile. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. Rue, if you want to come behind the counter, you can sit with Gunner. I don’t usually allow visitors in the work area, but since you’re the artist, I’ll make an exception.”

Rue slips behind the counter, looking like a fairy-tale creature standing next to him. “Thank you. I promise I won’t touch anything.”

Dustin nods, his face softening as he gazes down at our girl. “You’ll be fine. If you need anything, just ask. If these boys don’t treat you right, you come to me, you hear?”

While part of me wants to rip that fucker’s head off for even offering, another part of me softens at knowing he would protect her with his life. I wave her over to my side. “Come here, princess.”

Her nose crinkles adorably at my nickname, but she does as told, taking a seat on the stool next to me. When her eyes drop to scan my tattoos, I hold completely still, allowing her to look her fill. Normally, when people stare at me, I find the attention intrusive. I usually snarl to scare them away or knock the fuckers out—either is effective.

It’s different when Rue looks at me, her gaze more of a caress than judgment. I allow her time to look, basking in her nearness. After the beating I took, I look like a fucking thug more than ever, but she doesn’t even flinch. When her eyes land on mine, a little furrow appears between her eyebrows. I barely resist the urge to smooth it out. “What’s wrong?”

“You do know that the tattoo was always meant to be yours, right?” Her fingers twitch before she forces them still, like she’s been trained not draw attention to herself—another thing that we have in common with our childhood.

While I had my aunt and uncle, my heart bleeds with the knowledge that she had no one.

“I got the others jewelry, but I didn’t want to risk you wearing anything during a fight. If you change your mind, though, I can order you?—”

“You did good, princess.” I rest my hands lightly over hers, patting her awkwardly. It takes a physical effort to touch her and not flinch as I wait for a smack. “But when did you have time to design it?”

She shrugs, her fingers lightly tracing over the calluses and scars on my fingers. Her digits are so dainty against mine that I almost pull away for fear of sullying her, but one thing stops me—she ismine.

It’s better if she gets used to my rough calluses and brutish ways now, because there is no fucking way that I’m letting her go.

Her touch does wicked things to me, like she’s reaching into my pants to stroke my cock, and it’s all I can do not to pull her into my lap and show her what I want to do with her. I can already imagine a pretty blush filling her pale cheeks as I whisper dirty, wicked things into her ears.

I grunt and shift on the seat, glad the reverse chair keeps her from seeing my reaction to her.

No, she needs to be eased into loving me.

I’ll get her used to my presence in small doses, starting with gentle touches and frequent kisses.

Before long, I’ll have her craving my touch.

Then I’ll make her mine.

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