I spin and come face-to-face with Van Quiso.
Impossible to mistake him with that toothpick parked between his lips.Or the scar cutting from his eye to his mouth, wrecking the symmetry of his face and somehow sharpening everything else.
When I saw him in the nightclub, I didn’t know who he was.
Now that I’ve memorized his dossier, I understand exactly why his presence makes my blood run cold.
Hands clasped behind him and boots braced apart, he radiates a dominant posture, one that says he owns this view, this moment, maybe the whole damned kingdom.
Legacy King of The Freedom Fighters.
Former human sex trafficker.
His nine victims now stand shoulder to shoulder with him in the inner circle.
And I am wildly, inappropriately gobsmacked.Not in an approval way.In a staring-at-a-volcano way.I don’t want to go near him.I also don’t want to look away.
“Hi.”I crush out the cigarette.“Do you prefer a high-five, a bent knee, or should I just scream and throw myself off the balcony?”
One dark eyebrow lifts.“You’re different.”
“Never heard that before.”
“We like different around here.”He flicks the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other as his gaze sweeps over my shirtless, scarred chest.“You’ll fit in just fine.”
“Cool.”I glance past him, then back.“How did you get in here?”
“I wanted to see if Jag hacked the security and changed the locks yet.”He crosses muscled arms.“He hasn’t.”
“Jag’s been busy.”
His gaze drifts over my shoulder, and I follow it to the clearing where Jag holds Dove on his lap.
I step into Van’s line of sight, blocking it.
He hums quietly, thoughtful.
“I stopped by for two reasons.”He removes the toothpick, spins it between his fingers, and returns it to his mouth.“First, I want a tattoo.”
My brain short-circuits.
A tattoo.
On Van Quiso.
Of all the things I expected to come out of his mouth, that wasn’t even on the list.The idea of putting my needles anywhere near that scarred, people-eating myth of a man sends a wicked thrill through me.
“Yeah.”I play it cool.“My schedule’s pretty packed.”
“Everyone’s talking.People lining up, figuring out what they want from the resident artist.”
Resident artist?
Love that for me.
He steps closer, making sure I’m aware of him in a very biological way.“You’ll do me first.”
“Actually, Frizz is first.”
