The girls turn to stare at me with surprised expressions.
“You’ve been to Inked by Tink before?” Goldie puts a voice to the shocked look on Cinder’s face. Which is really only a slight widening of the eyes, but for her, the reaction is as earth shattering as I’ve seen.
“Not exactly,” I say, slipping my hands into my pockets.
“Princey-Poo gets whatever he wants, so years back he flew me out to Europe to tattoo him,” Tink explains with a smug little smile.
I shrug. “It was during the two years I spent at Oxford in the Common World.”
“The ink did look familiar,” Cinder says almost to herself as her eyes drop down my body. They stop above my crotch where the Midnight crown is etched in my body forever. Hot prickles race along my skin under her probing gaze.
I didn’t ask for the crown. I don’t want it now. Not in life and not on my flesh, but Tina’s magic spoke to her. She said the pixie dust ink knows best.
Hard to argue with that.
“Didn’t have time to jump across the pond,” I explain, clearing my throat, “so I had her come to me.”
“And I did, in fact, come,” Tinkerbelle says slyly.
The slow sweep of her lashes reminds me of the mini party we had after she finished my tattoo. We’d soaked ourselves in gin and sex for a job well done. We parted as friends.
Cinder stiffens. It’s almost imperceptible, but it happens in her shoulders and face.
My stomach inexplicably drops at her change in demeanor. Is she . . . no.
Wait, is she jealous?
Snow steps forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, enough ogling princey-poo.” Snow addresses Tink. “I've heard about how awesome you are, and I want to be tatted. I want something fierce, like me.”
Tink’s grin broadens as her wings flutter, “Well come on back my dear and I will divine your design.”
Snow follows dutifully. “I want something that pops. Can we do that? I know my skin is really dark.”
The artist lets out a tinkling laugh as she leads Snow behind a curtain. “Oh don’t you worry, it’s gonna be pure magic.”
Goldie follows Tink and Snow.
Before Cinder can do the same, I grab her arm and spin her around. “It was a long time ago.” I rush to explain.
“Sure,” Cinder says. There’s that distant, untouchable expression on her face again. As if she couldn’t give a single solitary fuck about me. But I’m learning to see through her mask. And I know she’s bothered.
Pulling her to a different curtained area where Tink administers piercings, I press my lips to hers the moment we are alone.
For a little human with anemia, she’s surprisingly strong as she pushes me back. I obey, letting her.
“I don’t care,” she says with vehemence, as if I’m annoying her with my attentions.
Hell no, you can’t run away in your little glass slippers from this, my dark-wing darling.
“Ido.” I envision pressing the words into her skin until she believes me.
For a minute, I’m sure she’s going to sweep out of here to join her friends.
She yanks me down so our lips collide in a hungry kiss.
“I don’t care,” she reiterates, albeit breathlessly as she claws me, devouring me with the same fervor that I’m giving.
Liar.
