He caught me looking.
And he likes it.
For once, he doesn’t call me out. Not on that, anyway. “You want to tell me about that tattoo since you’re up and definitely not looking at date stuff?”
I trace the pattern on the bedspread. “There’s nothing to say about it.”
“You still owe me a secret for today.”
I groan internally. He isn’t going to let this go. “Fine. It’s a sign of our commitment to The Firm. To each other. All of us have one.”
“But yours was the first?” he prods.
My mind pulls me back to that place. To that terrible night. I find myself telling him more. “I didn’t want it. But Father insisted. I fought like hell, but he tied me down and did it himself.”
The pain I felt as that needle dug into my skin, and the infection I had afterward. How I cried silently into my pillow that night, wishing for a different life. A different name. A different path.
It was the final time I allowed myself to wish for such things.
“It’s why the lines aren’t neat,” I say, my voice clipped. “Father wasn’t very skilled, and the infection I had following it left its marks too. Fortunately, I was able to make sure my brothers had theirs done in the proper setting.”
A warm hand touches my arm, and I shiver. When did I get so cold?
“So, you looked out for your brothers.”
It’s not a question, but I answer it anyway. “Of course.”
“And who looked out for you?”
My vision is suddenly blurry. I force the words out around the lump in my throat. “They look out for me now.”
“But when you were younger?”
I shake my head, blinking rapidly. “No one.”
“Hmm.” Neo’s hand strokes my thigh. He’s not trying to arouse me.
No, he’s trying to soothe me.
I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.
“I’m sorry, Wylder. God, I hate your father. What a cunt. I’m glad he’s dead.”
“I am too.”
We’re silent for a moment, and then he leans up, and his lips touch the raven tattoo, brushing against it tenderly. The action has the ball in my throat growing.
Neo says quietly, “I didn’t have a mom or a dad. Didn’t have anyone looking out for me either.”
He does now.
“Well, I won’t let anyone hurt you now,” he announcesconfidently. “I’ll dye anyone who upsets you a different color. Perhaps we can assemble an entire rainbow of assholes.”
Just like that, the tension leaves me. I grin, despite myself. “You’re such a handful, brat.”
“You like me this way.”
I can’t deny it. I don’t try to.
