Page 81 of Alpha Mates

My grin grows when I glance at my mate and find his cheeks warming.

“No,” he replies smoothly. “I was staring at your tattoos, not you.”

His gaze flicks down as if to make a point, only for him to backtrack when they slip too low.

“I’ll let that slide today because I’m tired. Generous, aren’t I?”

“Benevolent, really.”

I snort, then glance down at the ink steadily overtaking my skin. I startedgetting them to hide the scars, but after the first few, I discovered that I liked the way they look on me.

“Why this one?” Julian asks, closing his book to point at the small black koi fish swimming amongst all my ink. Apparently, he’s done with playing pretend. “Why a koi fish?”

“They’re cool fish.”

“What about the gas mask?” His nose wrinkles as he eyes it.

I laugh. “It looked cool, and I wanted it,” I reply, glancing down at the random tatt I’d gotten one night when I was way past drunk.

“And these words?” he asks, abandoning his book completely to wiggle closer. He traces the cursive lines over my heart. “Are these—” He squints. “Is this The Alpha’s Code?”

I nod, and he blinks, his interest peaked. “The original code?”

“Yup, it was my first.”

The Alpha’s Code was first spoken long before it was ever written down, passed by word of mouth through countless generations until it was finally recorded in our oldest texts. I doubt what we have now is perfectly verbatim, but the message endures—and I’ve always liked it, no matter how pretentious it sounds.

Honour thy kin, and stand for all; yet above all, stand for those who cannot stand themselves. Be brave, be merciful, and be steadfast in thy care.

Most alphas forget that last part, but it’s always been my favourite.

“It’s the only tattoo my Ma approves of,” I say, eyes rolling as I shift, “because, of course it is.”

His lips twitch before he points at another. “Tell me about this one.”

One by one, we go through the open portfolio of my tattoos, and I tell Julian the truth about most of them. He listens intently, even for the ones he clearly doesn’t like very much, and gently traces his favourites with his fingers. Each touch has pleasure racing up my spine and my body unwinding beneath the sun, a slave to Julian’s touch. I slide my hand over his thigh, drawing small circles over his skin as we rest together.

“Would you ever get a tattoo?” I ask once we’ve gotten through almost all of them.

He yanks his hand away as if I’d pulled out a gun.

“No,” he declares, and I chuckle as he shakes his head adamantly. “It’s not for me.”

“I disagree,” I muse as I slide my hand over his, redirecting it to my chest. “I think you’d look good with ink.”

He pales slightly and quickly shakes his head again. “I can’t even imagine it. And if I did get one, my parents would try to cut the flesh out themselves.”

The mention of them sours his mood instantly. His shoulders slump and the brightness in his eyes dims like it had yesterday. I nudge his fingers, and he tries for a smile, but it’s not the same as the ones he’s been sharing all day.

“It’s fine,” he says, which I’m learning often means the opposite.

“You said there was more yesterday,” I say, while I smooth my fingers over his. “What was it?”

He sighs, and I feel bad for asking until his fine façade crumbles a second later. “It’s one thing to leave like that when they know the rules, but to still want to test me after all this time …” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away. “They want to see how much I mess things up while they’re gone because they can’t fathom a reality where I don’t.”

“You?” I sit up. “You, who’s perfect at everything?”

Julian laughs dryly like he doesn’t believe it.