Granny flashed her teeth in a small, tight smile. “Yes, Little Reed. I understand you sisters bleed for each other. I said it was a little pain, and that’s truth. Giles?”
Giles was a big guy. A big wolf. Easily six four, shoulders meant for felling trees, hands the size of catchers’ mitts. It had always surprised me that he chose none of those kinds of big, physical jobs, but instead made his living as a tattoo artist.
He stepped forward from the wall to my left and walked across the wooden floor and a scatter of overlapping rugs far too silently for a man that big. He held a bag that looked like a physician’s house-call bag and a short, three-legged stool.
“You take from us, we take from you. A little blood,” Granny said.
“All right.” I sat up straighter and did my best to keep my gaze on her not on the hulk who put the stool down, sat, then placed the bag on the coffee table where the Heartwood had been.
He began unpacking things, laying them out on the table.
“This should have been done years ago,” Granny said. “But the past can’t be pulled back to us, so we just gonna do this now. You understand?” She tipped her head down a notch.
“Blood?” I guessed, since the pain was a given and she’d mentioned blood.
“Yes, that. A mark. That says you are one of our own. And we won’t be crossed. Never again.”
Nope. Still wasn’t getting it.
My confusion must have been obvious.
Shetsked but didn’t look as stern. The twins were curled up beside her, Sam putting his head on her lap, Dean laying his head on her shoulder. They were both drowsy, eyes closing, lifting for a second, then closing again.
Her arms wrapped around both of them, pulling them close.
“We are marking you, Delaney Reed. Permanent.”
That’s when it all clicked.
I’d been expecting punishment, pain, and blood. A pound of flesh kind of thing. But that’s not what she had been saying at all.
She’d told me I’d done everything I could to protect the Heartwood of her clan. Now she was going to put her own protective mark on me. So it couldn’t happen again. So if itdidhappen again, they would know. She would know.
I wouldn’t be alone.
When a demon, or any other creature, tried to use me, use my soul, I wouldn’t be alone.
I’d have the entire Wolfe clan at my back.
“You don’t have to—” Suddenly my throat was tight. I had to take a deep breath so I didn’t accidentally sob.
“Hush yourself, Delaney Reed. I’ve made my decision. This is the price. You carry our mark. Now. Forever.” She nodded like the queen she was, and Giles gave me a wink.
He had finished unpacking. Now he placed his palms on his knees. “Where do you want the mark? It’s tradition for it to be on the arm or hand where it’s easily visible.”
“How big is it going to be?” Jean asked. “Colors or black only?”
I flashed her a thankful look. I hadn’t thought about any of that.
“It needs to be big enough that it can be seen by Wolfe eyes.”
I took off my sweater, baring my arms, considering.
Not my inner wrist over my pulse. That felt too personal, too near my heart. Any tattoo there would be so close to my veins, it would be like it touched my heart. Any tattoo there would be a statement of what makes me me.
This tattoo needed to be a sign that the Wolfes were my protectors, that I belonged to their clan. They didn’t hand out this mark easily.
It wasn’t a mark of shame, it was a mark of pride.
