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Wait, what? Trixy’s words sink in, and I blink a couple of times.

“Wait, you will be tattooing me?” Damon looks bored and just nods in agreement, not elaborating any further.

“He is very skilled. One of his designs won first place in a competition five years ago. You didn’t know?” Trixy laughs, shaking her head.

“Considering you are the first person he has brought here, which is significant, you don’t seem to know much about him.”

Trixy’s words resonate with a truth that I hate.

“My thoughts exactly. But Damon can be difficult to get to know.” My frustration comes through in my tone, and Trixy raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“She is feisty, Damon. I like her.” Trixy puts the sucker back in her mouth, smiling as she looks between me and Damon.

Damon seems unfazed by my words. As usual. Calm. Cool. Collected. Aloof.

And yet. Here I was. Wanting him nonetheless.

“Yes. I will let you tattoo your design on my body.” I look at Damon pointedly, waiting for a reaction. None.

Trixy claps her hands together excitedly.

“Excellent! I will set everything up while you sort out the design. My laptop is over there.” Trixy points to a laptop on a table in the corner of the room.

While Damon does whatever he is doing on the laptop and Trixy sets up some very complicated-looking machinery, I wander around the room. My mind goes to the design Damon has made for me. Would it be like his? All dark and tormented? Maybe a skull?

“Sienna.” Damon, right behind me, makes me jump.

“You’re very jumpy. Are you worried?” His voice holds a little concern—a reaction, finally.

“A bit,” I say honestly, but don’t elaborate. On the pain, the design,and Damon’s skills. Yip. These all worried me.

“Do you remember when I spanked your ass in room one?” I blush, remembering that incident all too clearly.

“It was painful. But there was also pleasure. I think it will be like this for you. And don’t worry. I know what I am doing.” Damon's confidence is, as usual, almost arrogant.

“Male entertainer, business owner, fighter, tattoo artist. Is there nothing you haven’t done?”

Damon’s dark cocoa-brown eyes stare at me, but he leaves my question hanging in the air. Forlorn.

“I don’t know you. This just proves that. Validates what I said last night.” I don’t know why it was suddenly so important that I knew Damon. But it was.

Was it The Reaping making me feel this way? Insecure? Or was it something else? The word attached to a feeling I only ever felt towards James floats around in my mind, but I let it dissipate. It couldn’t be. Not with Damon. If that word defined my feelings, I would be destroyed. There would be no coming back.

“What I did in the past doesn’t mean anything. You know me better than anyone, Sienna.”

He doesn’t understand. I look away, trying to compose myself as hurt runs its course. How can the past be irrelevant? It made him who he is—the man standing before me with a stern look on his face but a softer look in his eyes—a walking contradiction.

“Are you guys ready?” Trixy asks, clearly not caring about what is happening between Damon and me.

“Nearly. Let's do the placement.” Damon takes my hand and leads me toward a wall-length mirror next to the pool table.

“Top off.” I meet his gaze in the reflection, checking to ensure he isn’t joking. Nope. He is not kidding.

I look behind him, but Trixy is busy on her phone.

I slowly remove my T-shirt and place it on the pool table.

Thankfully, I wore a half-decent bra today—the baby blue set that I bought with the tip money I earned at Sin. It seems a lifetime ago, but it was literally only a week ago that I was last there. Damon forced leave on me in light of The Reaping.