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WREN

What Brix didn’t understand was that his pain was already a living, breathing thing to me. I could feel it raking against my skin, clawing at my heart. And it was worse because I loved him. Because he was my mate.

But wasn’t that the burden of love? You got all the wonderful things: connection, passion, understanding. But it also meant that you hurt when the person you loved did. It was just amplified for me because of my empathic gift.

Only I couldn’t find it in me to regret it. Not even as smoky tendrils of Brix’s pain tried to grab me and put me in a vicious stranglehold. Because what would have happened if I wasn’t here? Would Brix have been left to deal with it himself?

If so, I understood why he’d turned it all off. It was too much for anyone to bear alone.

“No.” The word was low and a little angry as it tore from Brix’s throat. “It’s my pain. It’s not for you to take.”

I stared up at him as he stood there, some tattoo device I couldn’t identify in his hands. “And you don’t take on my pain? You help me fight back my nightmares. You protect me with everything you have. You listen and truly hear.”

A muscle fluttered in Brix’s cheek. “It’s not the same. I’m too dark.”

“You’re not.” I reached out, needing more connection.

I gripped his black tee with faded Arcane lettering and tugged him to me.

“You’re scarred. Just like me.” I slipped my hand under the soft cotton, feeling for his marked flesh, the twisted skin covered by the ink.

“It’s how we understand each other so deeply.

And I’d pay those prices over and over if it meant finding you in the end. ”

“Little Warrior,” he growled.

I took a little of his darkness into me then, making his pain mine.

“Don’t.”

“It’s mine, the same as you are,” I whispered.

A different sort of pain flashed across his face. “Enough.”

Slowly, I pulled my hand away from his skin, knowing I’d taken the edge off. Just enough for him to see a little more clearly. But I asked for something more. “Mark me. Paint our tether in a way I’ll see it every day.”

“Wren—”

“I love you,” I said, cupping his face with my hands. “I feel it. I see it in our mark here.” I pressed a hand to my shoulder. “I want to see your art on me, too. I want to feel that piece of you with me.”

Brix studied me for a long moment, his head tilting to the side as it often did when he was trying to think something through. “You don’t want to tell me what to ink on your skin forever?”

I released my hold on his face and lay back on the bed that resembled a massage table. “I told you. I trust you.” I closed my eyes to punctuate the point. I wouldn’t look until he was done.

Brix didn’t move at first. I counted to almost one hundred before I felt cool liquid being swept across my thigh. My mouth curved in response. And then a buzz lit the air.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Brix said, his voice low.

“I will.” I wouldn’t. I’d already walked through fire. This would be nothing.

When the needle bit into my skin, I had to bite back a curse. The pain took my breath away for a second but then shifted into something different. A heady heat. I could see why this was a release for Brix.

I let all the darkness in me swirl and pictured it bleeding out of my skin, becoming one with the ink. I lost all sense of time as Brix worked. The buzzing pain mixed with release and Brix wiping away what I assumed was blood and ink.

When the buzzing cut off this time, it didn’t start back up.

“Done,” Brix rasped.

My eyelids fluttered, light shining through in quick bursts. Brix held out a hand, and I took it. He helped me sit up, and I viewed my thigh. The most beautiful artwork I’d ever seen now graced the tan and marred flesh.

It only took me a second to recognize my wolf—her dark-brown fur with the patch of white. Wrapped around her was a jet-black wolf. Brix. It was a protective pose, but he didn’t stand in front of her. He was a show of force at her back. Throughout the artwork were tiny silvery starbursts.

“They’re the shards of feeling coming back,” Brix explained, pointing to one.

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. “It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.”

Brix’s mouth curved against mine. “I’ve never felt what I did when I inked your skin. Everything is…more.”

“I hope it was a good more because I think I’m going to want you to do that again.”

Brix laughed and helped me down, steadying me for a moment. “A very good more. You might want to shower and get the remnants off your skin. It’s not like a human tattoo; it’s already fully healed.”

I grinned up at him. “Want to help me?”

Brix let out a low growl and then cursed. “I have to go on patrol. Ender will probably be back by now.”

It was my turn to curse this time. “Gonna make you pay for leaving me high and dry.”

Heat filled Brix’s eyes as his hand fisted my hair. “I certainly hope so.”

I scowled at him as I turned to leave. Walking away felt like torture, but I forced myself to do it anyway.

As I wound through the maze back toward the center of the house, I heard sounds of sparring coming from the gym.

I couldn’t help my curiosity and poked my head in to see who was getting in a late-night workout. I promptly stopped dead.

Ender and King sparred with bo staffs, both shirtless in low-slung black joggers.

They moved around the fighting ring like it was a choreographed dance.

Ender had his brown hair pulled up into a man bun, exposing the shaved sides, while King’s almost black hair was damp with sweat.

And both were covered in ink that I now had a whole new appreciation for.

Pressure built between my thighs, need rushing in with it.

I muttered a curse. I needed to get out of here and fast. Because the last people I needed to let my horny she-wolf out around were Kingston and Ender.

King because we needed to take things slow, and Ender because, even though we’d reached more of an understanding, he was still most definitely an asshole.