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brIX

I stared into the night, watching for movement or the flicker of anything that didn’t belong. But all I’d seen so far were a family of raccoons and a bat in the distance.

My back teeth ground together, and my fingers itched for my tattoo gun, wanting to mark my skin and take the edge off whatever this foreign feeling coursing through me was. Worry. It wasn’t something I was used to.

It was as if my whole being was coming alive again after decades of being in hibernation or frozen in stasis.

It had hurt like hell coming back, but even after getting past the agony, I had this low-level discomfort coursing through me.

I was twitchy. On edge. And not a damn thing seemed to help, other than losing myself in Wren.

But, even there, the effects were fleeting.

“Want to tell me why you’re glaring at that tree like it stole your last french fry?”

Wren’s voice cut through the night like a sultry promise and a warm comfort all at once. She rounded my chair and lowered herself onto my lap, brushing the hair out of my face. The feel of her fingers skating over my skin helped. But not nearly enough.

I stared down at her, trying to take in all her beauty, the wonder of everything she was. “You should be in bed.”

Wren arched a brow at me. “Should I?”

“The guys probably miss you.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to read what was beneath my words. “Ender’s out patrolling, King’s on the phone with the gods only know who, and Locke and Puck are currently in a video game battle to end all video game battles.”

We all found our ways to cope, I guessed. Every last one of us was worried about Wren. Terrified that the idiots trying to make a quick buck wouldn’t heed King’s warning. Or worse, that Bastian would find some new approach to try.

Wren’s fingers skimmed over my face, one stopping to trace the knife by my eye. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

No, I didn’t. I wasn’t someone who talked about my feelings because I wasn’t used to having them. But it wasn’t fair to lock her out.

“Feel twitchy,” I admitted.

I thought Wren would push to know the emotional reason behind that twitchiness, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply asked, “What do you normally do when you feel this way?”

“Ink.”

Two adorable wrinkles formed on her brow. “Ink?”

“I usually tattoo myself, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m running out of space.”

“Oh.” Wren’s mouth formed a perfect circle that had me thinking of other things. Then, something shifted in her expression. “What if you tattoo me?”

A new sensation slid over me—a buzz of adrenaline, attraction, and excitement, but there was a hint of doubt in the stew, too. “You sure that’s a good idea? I’ve seen your body. There’s not a speck of ink on it.”

Wren shrugged. “No time like the present to start.”

I studied her, one corner of my mouth kicking up. “As easy as that?”

“Why not? I trust you.”

Fuck.

That did something to me, this magnificent creature gifting me her trust. If I didn’t ink her, I’d fuck her instead. But for now, I’d mark her in a whole other way.

In one swift move, I stood and tossed Wren over my shoulder. She squealed. “Brix!”

My palm came down hard on her ass, making her wiggle. “Quiet. I don’t want any of these other assholes ruining my fun.”

Wren bit my back playfully. “I’m going to get you back for this. You could’ve let me walk.”

“Whatever punishment you dole out will be worth it.”

“You say that now…”

I chuckled as I navigated the maze of hallways until we reached the small tattoo studio Ender and I kept at the house.

It was where we inked the guys and ourselves.

Tattooing supernaturals was different than humans.

It required special enchanted ink, and the healing was practically instantaneous.

But the process was also a bit more painful. Which was part of why I liked it.

Flicking on the lights, I closed the door behind us and set Wren on the tattoo bed in the center of the room. She landed with an oomph and glared up at me.

“Hey,” I said, my lips twitching. “Most people would just say thank you for the lift.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I chuckled, moving around the room to get set up.

“I really need to get better acquainted with this house. I had no idea this was even here,” Wren said as she studied the framed artwork on the wall made up of mostly my and Ender’s designs.

“It’s tucked away. Just how I like it.”

I felt Wren’s eyes on me more than I saw them. Her attention had a warmth to it. But it probed, too—not forcefully or harshly, but in a way that said she wanted to know more.

She didn’t disappoint. “Why do you hide what’s clearly a gift?”

“It’s not for other people. It’s for me,” I told her honestly.

“It’s how you process,” Wren surmised.

I nodded as I washed my hands and donned gloves. “The pain has always been an outlet. The beauty left behind is proof that I made it through.”

“You hurt yourself to deal with whatever’s going on in your head.”

“That makes it sound twisted.”

“Isn’t it just a little twisted?” she asked quietly.

“Maybe. But so am I.”

Grief passed over Wren’s expression. “And tonight, you need to deal because you’re worried about me.”

It wasn’t a question, but I still felt the need to answer. “I’m not used to fearing for someone other than me.”

“Not even your brothers?”

I shook my head. “I’ve always just known they’ll take care of themselves.”

Heat flashed in Wren’s blue eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. But it’s different. You’re a part of me. You’re my soul’s mate. The urge to protect you…it’s like it drowns out everything else.”

She frowned and then pushed up the hem of her shorts on one leg. “Then let me help you deal. Let me take the pain.”