Chapter 4
Four
Killien
Ishouldn’t have come. I really shouldn’t have.
Things are weird enough already. Watching Jacob drive needles through Damien’s nipples will only make me feel worse. They are so into each other too. It’s obvious. Not that I care about that, though.
I’m not jealous. At all.
That’s not a thing I do. Not with Damien, at least. I just protect him when he’s in danger, and that’s not the case right now. Unless you consider the needles a danger. Or Jacob himself.
Damien sits next to me on the black leather Chesterfield sofa, legs crossed and eyes on his iPhone. He looks particularly small in an oversized black mesh shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s perfectly tucked into his ripped black jeans, accentuating his waist.
Jacob is just finishing a tattoo, so he’ll be ready any second now. His musk-and-leather perfume seems to be impregnated on everything in the shop, a fragrance that suits him too well.
I scan the room around us, although I already know it by heart.
All the walls of the shop are painted deep red and covered in Jacob’s art—drawings, sketches, paintings, and photos of his work.
It’s very goth, if you will. Lots of skulls, roses, spiders, and spooky shit.
The furniture is modern and simple, black-stained wood combined with glass surfaces.
I feel completely out of place, and not just because I’m terrified of needles—which I definitely am. But because I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever is happening between Damien and Jacob.
I’ve had enough of being in the middle for a lifetime after the last hunt.
I never want to do that again. Ever. It was the most uncomfortable experience of my entire life.
I would have never seen it coming, either.
I thought we were just going to feed, not that I was going to have to witness . . . that.
I cringe just thinking about it.
But the events still flash through my mind.
Clara’s moans, her hands all over me, her weight on my chest. The way she shivered while Damien was buried between her legs.
How he made her come, his wet tongue and piercings glistening under the moonlight.
I bet he tasted like her too. And he seemed to really enjoy the whole thing. Maybe as much as her.
And me. Fuck.
I really did like it, didn’t I? But I shouldn’t. It’s wrong and fucked-up. Seriously fucked-up. I can’t be having these thoughts about him; he’s my younger brother. Well, stepbrother. We’re not related by blood. But still—this is not okay. I want out of this whole situation.
Jacob turns off his tattoo machine and starts cleaning.
The girl he was working on stares at him a bit too much.
She’s kind of obvious, not trying to hide her intentions.
He’s basically ignoring her, though, just touching her thigh because that’s where she got the tattoo.
He remains professional, collected. He doesn’t even flinch at the smell of blood either.
I always think that tattoo artist and piercer is a bit of a strange profession for a vampire.
You have to be really in control of yourself to be around blood all the time.
But he says he’s been doing it for decades, so I guess he’s more than capable.
I’m not sure I could; just sitting here and smelling it in the distance makes my mouth water a little bit.
Damien puts his phone away in his pocket and looks at me. “You seem a bit pale.”
“Do I?” I haven’t noticed anything strange in myself, besides the constant hammering of terrible thoughts.
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” I lie. Of course I’m hungry. Going two days without drinking blood is already hard, and it’s been almost four. But we’re still trying to lie low, and I don’t want to think about our last feed again. My mind just spirals out of control too easily when I do.
“I was thinking we should go hunting tomorrow,” he says casually, not taking a single hint as to my discomfort. Does he not feel it, or is he doing it on purpose?
I don’t say anything, since he’s going to do what he wants anyway.
And I’m not angry at him. I’m more upset at myself than anything else.
I used to have Damien under control, used to be able to keep him in line.
But, since we were turned six months ago, it seems like he’s found a way to break free from his leash. And he’s a rabid little monster.
Damien places a hand on my knee, catching me by surprise and making me freeze. I even stop breathing for a few seconds. I hate reacting like that, but it keeps happening since we killed Clara.
“Will you hold my hand?” he asks.
“What?”
“I want you to hold my hand while Jacob pierces me. Will you?” He leans forward and tilts his head a smidge to look at me. “I’m a little scared.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Damien. Scared of getting pierced. The motherfucking brat.
“Why don’t you cancel, then?” I ask, although I desperately want to say yes. It’s that overwhelming need to please him and protect him I’ve had since that fateful night years ago. But I still need to keep my distance. I don’t want those feelings to come back—the nasty ones.
“Nu-uh, not cancelling.” He smirks at me and my heart skips a beat. It keeps doing that too, my silly heart.
“I don’t know. I’m not comfortable with this. I don’t wanna see it happen—you know I hate needles.”
“You don’t have to look.”
After a long, heavy sigh, I nod. I don’t know how to say no to him. It’s like my body is incapable of such a thing. Even when I know Damien is going to cause all kinds of havoc, I still want to comply. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing my entire life?
Fuck me, I’m so damn weak for him.
The girl who was getting tattooed gives Jacob a very unwanted hug in front of us. He tries to stand back, but she doesn’t take the hint and holds him anyway. Damien and Jacob exchange a complicit smile, like there’s some kind of inside joke I’m missing out on.
An unfamiliar fire burns in my stomach. I don’t really know what it is, but it makes me want to punch someone in the face. All these weird, unknown emotions keep rolling out of the depths of my mind and ruining my peace. I have to find a way to make them stop.
Jacob closes the door and locks it. He flips the little sign from Open to Closed, and then gestures for us to follow him. Damien stands with a little jump and strolls after him, leaving me on my seat, munching on whatever horrible emotion is coursing through me.
I’m not fucking jealous. I’m not.
I take a deep breath, wasting some time checking out my surroundings, as if I could avoid going after them.
My eyes settle one the purple neon sign that hangs behind the counter.
It reads Eternal Tattoo in a delicate cursive font and casts its light over everything around it, making that area of the shop seem cooler than the rest.
After tapping my fingers for a few seconds on the glass that protects the black surface of the counter, I make my way towards the back.
There’s nothing else for me to do than approach the small room where Jacob does the piercings.
A more private setting, since the tattoos are done where anyone walking by can see through the glazed front of the shop.
I understand why, of course. The needles used for piercing are terrifying, nobody wants to see that. I don’t like them one bit.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, honey,” Jacob says.
Honey? Ugh . . . Fucking hell.
“It’s fine. She was kinda clingy, huh?” Damien laughs as he flops onto the plush black tattoo chair in the center of the room. The walls are all white and the lights are brighter in here, quite a contrast to the other part of the shop.
“Yeah—she doesn’t wanna give up.” Jacob cringes and pretends to shudder, which only makes Damien laugh louder.
I really don’t want to be here. I would rather wait elsewhere. Between the needles and whatever is up with these two, I couldn’t possibly be more uncomfortable.
This sucks.
Jacob is taller and bigger than me. He’s definitely very handsome, with his olive skin tone and silky long hair tied in a messy bun, which looks black until the sunlight reveals it’s actually a warm ebony color.
His dark brown eyes are gentle, but he looks pretty intimidating, given his size and all the tattoos that basically cover his neck, arms, and hands.
I think his torso and back are also full of ink, but I’ve never seen those parts of him.
I’m slightly curious about it, but I’ll never say.
He’s been a lifesaver for us, honestly. Ever since our maker took off, he became our only guide. They used to be friends, Ledger and him. We were all shocked when he stopped showing up at home. He took most of the money we had and his car, and vanished into thin air.
“Are you ready, Damien?” Jacob’s voice is soft, comforting.
My stepbrother is almost melting for him. He nods while taking off his mesh shirt, then sinks into the chair and looks up at Jacob with his characteristic devilish grin. My blood boils, but I keep my cool. I’m not going to react. Because I’m not jealous.
I. Am. Not. Jealous.
He’s my brother, for fuck’s sake.
Jacob grabs one of those awful needles and removes all the plastic packages that protect it. I squirm, wishing I could just not be in the room. This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt Damien.
“Killi?” Damien reaches out for my hand, so I take it.
I stand beside him and try my best to keep my eyes up. Looking anywhere but down will do, I guess.
“You guys are really cute,” Jacob says, before leaning over Damien.
Cute, my ass. I’ll show you cute.
Why am I so . . . angry?