Or very, very bad.
“Don’t go easy on her,” Rowan chuckled, drawing my attention.“She loves a bit of rough.”
There was nothing malicious in his boyish smile or those warm brown eyes.
He wasn’t wrong.
I heard Alec moving around in the bathroom.
Nick shifted, and my focus drifted to his neck. The black serpent twisted there, inked muscle and menace. I traced my fingers along the curve of its head.
“You’ll be getting one tomorrow,” he said quietly.
My fingers stilled.
“A tattoo?”
“A seal. Our initials. Nothing major,” he added, like it was an afterthought.
Their initials.
R. A. N.
The irony never stopped.
“You want the word ran on me?” I mused.“Like what I should have done when I first met you three.”
“There isn’t a corner in the world you could hide from us,” he growled.“Or maybe we should add our full names. Everywhere.”
“No. The initials are fine,” I said quickly, frowning as the image took shape in my head.
“Alec Calder,” Alec said, climbing onto the bed.“Yes. I like that.”
Rowan Blackwood.
Nick Graves.
“No. No,” I said again, more firmly this time.“The initials are fine.” I swallowed, thinking how big and ugly those brandings would become.
“What about full first names?” Rowan added mildly.
Nick’s smile turned unmistakably nasty.
I cupped his cheeks, smoothing the rough edge of his beard, grounding myself in the familiarity of him.
“The initials are fine,” I whispered.
“Pity,” Nick said, trailing his fingers down my cheek and along my jaw.
If he’d had his way, my body—front and back—would’ve been covered in ink.
They gathered around me.
It wasn’t until much later, when exhaustion dragged me under and sleep crept in heavy and unavoidable, that the truth settled in.
I hadn’t negotiated anything.
I’d agreed to exactly what they wanted—because they’d offered me something worse.
