25. Riley
Something about knowingwhat my men are doing today has me all up in my feelings. Probably because even though they’re mine now, nothing is guaranteed in this world. Even in the heart of their own territory, the fact is, they’re not meeting with friends, and no matter how strong the Reapers are and how fiercely I know they’ll fight for what matters to them, shit could go badly at any moment.
For some reason, that fact hits me hard when they walk in the door after their meeting with the other gang leaders. “How did it go?”
Maddoc grimaces. “As good as could be expected.”
“That well?” I joke, not doing a great job of masking my jumpiness if the guys’ expressions are anything to go by.
“We gave them something to think about,” Maddoc says, pulling me into his embrace and gripping my chin. He stares into my eyes for a moment, then smiles. “It’s good to be home, though.”
The way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he means the house.
My heart gives an embarrassing flutter at how openly he’s putting his feelings on display. He’s the first man who ever told me he loved me and made me actually believe it, and it just gives me one more thing that I’m not willing to lose. One more thing I’ll do anything to keep in my life permanently.
I feel that way about all three of these men, and when Logan heads off to do some sort of high tech badassery and Maddoc goes into his office to get some work done after kissing me hard, I want—no, I need—to do something about that.
“Is it safe for us to go out, as long as we stay in Reaper territory?” I ask Dante.
He tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Depends where you wanna go, princess. So far, McKenna’s stuck with attacks at our borders, but we still need to be on alert. Where are you thinking?”
“I want to go to that tattoo parlor again,” I admit, letting my fingers skim over his chest, tracing the shape of the ink he put there. “The place you got this one.”
Dante’s eyes flare with interest, and he covers my hand, holding it against his chest as his voice goes a little husky. “All right.”
He ushers me out to the SUV, shooting off a quick text ahead of us and getting the heads-up that Nico, the artist who did his ink, can see me.
“Really?” I’m genuinely surprised. “I kind of figured I’d have to settle for someone else.”
Dante smirks. “Not on my watch.”
I bite my lip. I don’t ask what he did to make it happen, but I’m pretty sure Nico isn’t the type who’d have a last-minute opening in his schedule like this without a little nudge. I’m not going to complain, though.
“Has Chloe been in touch?” he asks as we drive.
I nod. “It sounds like she’s got that guy you assigned to watch her out there, Nathan, hooked on the manga series Logan sent with her.”
“That’s like, what, a comic book?” Dante asks, chuckling. “’Cause I never did figure Nathan for much of a reader.”
“He’d better not just be humoring her,” I say, bristling a little at the thought since Chloe has been gushing about the guy a little.
“Nah, Nathan’s a good one,” Dante reassures me. “You know we wouldn’t have sent him out there with her if we didn’t trust him. And I’ve got it on good authority that he’s taking his job seriously.”
I want to ask him what he means by that, but when Dante parks behind the tattoo parlor, a rush of adrenaline kicks in and distracts me. I’m not sure if it’s because this will be my first tattoo, or if it’s because of what it means to me, but my body starts to thrum with excitement as we walk in, and Dante clearly notices.
“You good, princess?” he asks softly, his hand resting low on my back as he guides me back to Nico’s station.
I smile up at him. “So fucking good.”
Nico and Dante exchange greetings, then Nico kicks a rolling stool toward Dante and helps me into the tattoo chair.
“Tell me what it is you’re looking to do today, princess,” Nico says with a wink, rolling toward me on a second stool.
Hearing that word from him startles me.
“Her name is Riley,” Dante growls before I can respond, a possessive bite to his voice I’m not used to hearing… and definitely don’t hate.
Nico laughs. “My bad, bro.” He turns back to me. “Go on now, Riley. Talk to me about the new ink we’re doing.”
I bite my lip, not sure how to put it into words now that he’s putting me on the spot like this.
I can still see it in my memory, though, so I do my best.
“I need it in red,” I start. “Blood red.”
Dante’s favorite color.
I drag my fingers over my chest, mimicking the slash of red paint he put there once. It was bold and dangerous-looking and hopeful. More importantly, it was his, and I want it on my skin permanently. Just like the scars Logan has marked me with. Just like the claim all three men have made on my heart.
Nico nods. “We can do that. Like a true crimson, yeah? That’ll pop nicely against your skin. What’s it gonna look like?”
I try to describe the shape with touch, curling my fingers over the top of my right breast. “It needs to twist around like this.”
I meet Dante’s eyes, the heat of them making my breath hitch. I can see that he remembers.
I can also see that possessiveness flare up in his eyes when Nico nods and tells me to take my shirt off.
“You want to just guide me as I freehand it?” Nico asks as I reach for my hem. “Dante can hold this mirror for you—”
“No,” Dante says, shooting to his feet. He pushes between me and Nico and bats my hands away. “I’ll do the fucking stencil. I know what she wants.”
Nico snorts, but I can’t see what he thinks about that with Dante blocking my view.
Or, I suppose, blocking Nico’s view.
“You do remember we met in a strip club, right?” I tease Dante once I realize that.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, his voice low. He peels my shirt off and cups my bare breasts. “These are mine now.”
I squeeze my thighs together. “Just yours?”
“You know what I mean, princess.” He pinches my nipples hard enough to send a bolt of arousal shooting through me that almost has me forgetting what we’re doing here. “This is Reaper territory, and I only share with my brothers.”
“That might make this whole tattoo thing kind of hard to do,” Nico drawls from behind him. “You do know I need to work on her skin, right?”
Dante’s eyes stay locked onto mine. “I know.”
But he doesn’t like it, and that possessiveness has me turned on enough that it takes a bit of effort to remember how much I want this tattoo too.
“You can keep me covered up,” I say, sliding his hands down to cover my tits. “But I want this, Dante. I need your marks on me.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing my tits. “Okay, princess. We’ll make it happen.”
He snags the shirt he just took off me and flips it around a few times, turning it into something like a bandeau top for me that leaves enough of my breast exposed to allow him to follow through on freehand stenciling in the shape of the mark he painted on me when we fucked in his studio.
“This what you want?” he asks, his voice husky as he traces it with the tip of his finger, feather-light.
“Yes,” I tell him, a lump in my throat. “It’s perfect.”
No one has offered me the mirror, but I still know it’s true.
Actually, it’s a million times more perfect than I’d imagined when I spontaneously asked to come here for some ink, because now it really will truly be Dante’s mark that Nico inks onto my skin.
“Ready for this?” Nico asks once Dante finally steps aside.
He takes one of the rolling stools and puts a hand on my thigh that feels like one part possession and one part support.
I hold his gaze as Nico leans over my chest with his tools, and get a reassuring squeeze in return.
“I’m ready.”
Nico grins, giving me another wink. “It’s gonna give you a rush,” he promises. “Here we go.”
Then the needle finally bites into me… and it fucking hurts. The pain is like a thousand bees stinging me, all at once without letting up.
I suck in a sharp breath, and something deliciously dark flares to life in Dante’s eyes.
“Looks so fucking good on you,” he says in a throaty whisper.
I have no idea if he’s referring to the bold red lines Nico is inking into my skin, or to what the pain is doing to me, but I get my answer when he slides the hand he’s been resting on my thigh up between my legs and rubs his thumb over my clit through my pants.
Both. He definitely likes both.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe out, spreading my legs for him a little as the pain starts to get even more intense.
Nico’s totally focused on the tattoo, his back toward Dante as his hands move with steady determination over my skin, but there’s no way he can miss the way my breath quickens or the tiny droplets of sweat beading up on my skin as I force myself to stay still through the addicting onslaught of pleasure and pain the two men are subjecting me to.
I’ve got no idea if he knows what Dante’s doing to me or if he thinks those are just my reactions to the needle, but I also don’t have it in me to care. Not when Dante’s obviously bound and determined to wreck me.
“You’re taking that ink so fucking well, princess,” he says, his wicked fingers a counterpoint to the steady thrum of pain. “My mark’s gonna be on your body forever.”
“Yes. god, yes,” I pant, then bite my tongue before I go any further even though the effort of working so hard to stay quiet when he’s doing all he can to make me scream for him is almost more than I can stand.
Nico smirks. “Gonna do this center section for you now. It’s a solid block of color there, so you’re definitely gonna feel this next bit.”
“She already feels it,” Dante says in a low rumble, grinding down on my clit. “She feels it, and she fucking likes it. Ain’t that right, princess?”
“Bastard,” I whisper, fisting my hands until my nails dig into my palms as the pain twists around the pleasure he’s got rising inside me, merging them together until I can’t tell where one stops and the other begins.
Dante chuckles, low and dirty. “Love you too, beautiful.”
“Shit,” I gasp. I’m still not used to just hearing it like that, and the words push me over the edge, threatening to fuck up my tattoo as the orgasm rolls through me.
Dante smirks, but I can’t even be mad. I can’t be anything for a few minutes as the aftershocks shudder through me.
Thankfully, Nico pulls the tattoo gun away from my skin for a second, and I decide not to think about the fact that he obviously knows damn well how Dante was distracting me from the pain. Actually, when Dante rolls his stool forward and not-so-subtly nudges Nico to the side to lean down and kiss me, I don’t bother thinking of anything at all, so high on endorphins that I barely feel the final few passes of the tattoo gun when Nico snorts and shoves Dante out of the way again to finish it up.
Once Nico gives me some care instructions and steps away, I look up at Dante. “What do you think?” I ask, feathering my fingers over the deep red ink visible through the clear wrap Nico covered my new tattoo with.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Dante says, his eyes locked onto mine.
“Thanks, brother,” Nico says dryly. “Glad you appreciate my work.”
Dante laughs. “Okay, yeah. The ink looks good too. Your work is stellar, Nico, as per always.”
“Damn fucking right it is,” Nico says, clapping Dante on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you two up front, yeah?”
“It really does look good, princess,” Dante says more softly once Nico leaves us alone. He pulls me upright, then unwinds my shirt from around my breasts and shakes it out before easing it back over my head and brushing his fingers over the new ink. “I ain’t seen anything yet that doesn’t look good on you and doubt I ever will, but nothing is hotter than seeing this kind of proof.”
“Proof of what?”
He stares at me, a slow, sinful smile spreading across his mouth. “You know what.”
My breath hitches, and yeah, I do. But I lift my chin anyway, my heart beating in a deliciously quick counterpoint to the way the swooping lines of the new tattoo throb on the other side of my chest.
“Tell me.”
He pulls me in, tipping my head back even farther for a searing, possessive kiss. Then, while I’m still reeling from that, he finally answers my question. “I’m fucking in love with you, and seeing you permanently decorate yourself with something I made, choosing my marks, my art, to go on your body like this? That’s all the proof I need to know you’re really mine.”
The art may be abstract, but clearly, Dante understands exactly what getting this tattoo means to me.
Still…
“Is that what this means?” I ask a little breathlessly, goading him anyway, just a little, because this new possessive side of him that’s come out now that he’s finally admitted his feelings for me gets me fucking hot.
He grins, seeing right through me and giving me what I want anyway.
“Fuck yeah, that’s what it means. And it’s too late to back out now, wild thing. You belong to me and my brothers, and since this shit is permanent, I guess you always fucking will.”
He’s not wrong. And no matter how much uncertainty awaits us when we step out the door and back into the shitstorm brewing with West Point, having this one forever-thing to hold on to means something to me.
And having Dante understand that means even more.