This had to be better than the messy letters I’d scratched onto Jace and Parker.
This washer. This had to be art.
I wiped her hip clean with alcohol, the harsh scent cutting through the sex-heavy air. She shivered, goose bumps rising, but didn’t flinch. I pressed the stencil just above her hip bone, smoothing it down with steady fingers, peeling it back slowly to reveal the purple outline. Perfect placement…visible when she wore low jeans, hidden under lace when she wanted it private. Mine either way.
The gun buzzed to life in my hand, a low, hungry growl. I dipped the needle, black ink pooling, and leaned in.
Don’t fuck this up, Adler.
“Deep breath, baby,” I said in a voice that I hoped sounded calm. She inhaled, chest rising, eyes fixed on me—trusting and eager.
The needle touched skin.
She hissed, fingers digging into my thigh, but didn’t pull away. I started the first line—M—slow, precise, the ink sinking clean and dark.
Better than Jace’s crookedN. Better than Parker’s bleedingL.
I angled the gun, shading the curve of theR, making it sharp, elegant,permanent.
“You’re doing so good,” I praised as I wiped off some excess ink with a cloth. “Look at you—taking my name like you were born for it.”
She whimpered, a soft, needy sound, her free hand sliding up my arm, gripping tight.
Her eyes were glassy, like she was in that special space she sometimes went to during sex. Her lips were parted as she watched the ink bloom on her skin like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
I worked faster now, building confidence, but every line was deliberate. TheScurled just right, theAbold and unapologetic.Mrs. Adler—not a nickname, not a maybe. A vow.
Sweat beaded on my brow, but I didn’t rush.
I shaded the finalR, wiped it clean, and sat back.
The tattoo was flawless—crisp, dark,mine.
Honestly better than I could have expected now that I was on the other side of it.
I set the gun down, gloved hands framing her hips, thumbs brushing the fresh ink. “Look,” I said. “Look at what you are now.”
She stared at theMrs. Adler, and I watched as a tear slipped down her cheek and she smiled the most radiant smile I’d ever seen.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’sus.”
I leaned in and kissed just beside the ink, careful not to touch it.
“Forever, baby,” I said against her skin. “You’re mine. You’rehome.”
CHAPTER 27
OPHELIA
The screen lit my face as I crossed the quad, the cold biting through my sweater, and the wind making little rivers of leaves chase one another across the bricks. I glanced down, and everything inside me went tight when I saw who it was.
Mom.
Oh my gosh.
I froze in the middle of the walkway, my breath puffing out in uneven bursts. That sick, dropping feeling hit before the thought even formed?—
Dr. Whitaker.
