Page 34

SISI

H is mouth trails wet kisses down my cheek, his stubble tickling me as I shift in bed. My eyes open, my pupils accommodating to the light as I take him in—freshly showered and insanely attractive.

"You didn't shave," I whisper, my palm cupping his slight growth.

"I know you like me when I embrace my less than civil side." He smirks at me and my own lips pull up in a smile.

He's right. I do like when he leaves his gentlemanly ways at the door. Especially since losing his manners has never been sweeter.

"What time is it?" I ask groggily as I try to rouse myself.

"Time for a surprise," he says rather vigorously, gathering me in his arms and lifting me off the bed.

"What?" I'm suddenly alert, frowning in confusion. "What surprise? Where are we going?"

Though I am wont to admit, I'm a little sore from our activities last night.

"You'll see." His mouth quirks up as he carries me out of the room and to the basement.

"You probably noticed that the entire basement is custom made," he starts as he plugs in a password to yet another steel door.

"And I made something for you too," he tells me, and I can tell he's entirely too excited about this.

Once the door is open, he takes me inside a rather sterile looking room, with only a chair and some tools in the middle.

"Are you going to torture me?" I ask, amused. The entire setting looks like a torture chamber, and knowing Vlad's affinity for torture, I wouldn't be surprised.

"There's only one type of torture I have reserved for you, hell girl," his voice is low and seductive as he blows hot air into my ear, "and it's the type you beg for," he continues, and without even turning to him I can feel his arrogant smirk.

I shake my head, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

"Stop this and tell me what we're doing here," I demand, a little too curious about his surprise.

He strides to the middle of the room in two steps, carefully placing me in the chair. Laying a quick kiss on my forehead, he drags a table with tools toward me, motioning with his hand at the various devices.

"I'm giving you a tattoo," he declares proudly, opening up the kit to reveal a tattoo gun and other tools.

"A tattoo," I frown, a little taken aback by it.

"Yes!" he exclaims, and his excitement seems to have doubled. "You asked me for one a while back," he continues, slowly unbuttoning my nightgown to reveal the scars on my chest.

After I'd found out that his many tattoos were to hide his scars, I'd been overly enthusiastic about getting one too. But Vlad hadn't been too receptive at the time, saying he didn't want anything on my skin.

I wonder what changed his mind…

"Why now?" I narrow my eyes at him.

I'm only too happy to get a tattoo, but I also want to know what prompted his change of heart, since he was pretty adamant about no tattoos in the beginning.

"Because you want it," he starts, choosing his words carefully, "and because I don't want you to have bad memories from that place—ever again."

I stare at him dumbfounded for a moment before a stupid grin slowly appears on my face.

Grabbing his cheeks in my hands, I bring him closer for a kiss.

"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.

His eyes sparkle with joy and he looks like he's won the lotto as he starts preparing the equipment.

I watch him amused, once again surprised to see how little it takes to make him happy. And as I look at his carefree smile, it dawns on me that his happiness has always been contingent on making me happy.

Whenever he's done something to please me, he's been pleased with himself too, and the realization warms me even more.

I can't help myself as I reach out, fitting my palm to his cheek. He looks startled, but immediately gifts me a gorgeous smile as he places a kiss in the center of my palm.

"You're so good to me, Vlad." I tell him, fighting back tears.

There's something infinitely special about him and the way he treats me, his love boundless.

"No. You're good to me, Sisi," he replies, holding my hand close to his face. "You make me happiest," he simply says.

My heartbeats accelerate and I feel a tingle in my lower belly.

Butterflies. He makes me feel butterflies in my stomach.

His entire presence makes me so giddy, my body is no longer my own when he is around.

"I love that you thought about this," I add as I see him test the tattoo gun, "but do you know how to tattoo?"

His gesture may be sweet, but I have to wonder about his artistic prowess. In all the time we'd spent together, he'd never once mentioned a passion for it, or even better, a talent.

He stills, raising his eyes to look at me. Pursing his lips, he's quiet for a second, and I almost groan out loud.

"I don't not know how to tattoo," he answers, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Vlad!" My eyes widen at him and I swat him playfully. "You're not just thinking of doodling on my skin, are you?"

"Would that be so bad?" He shrugs, and my mouth hangs open in shock. I don't know whether to be scandalized or impressed by him. Sure, it's the thought that counts, but am I actually considering letting him do this?

"You're joking, right?"

"Relax," he catches my hand, holding it tight in his own. "I've had enough experience over the years with my own tattoos. Who do you think filled them in or continued some of the designs?" he more or less rips the shirt off his torso, pointing to several designs.

"See, I did this," he declares proudly.

I squint to make out the shapes, and I nod appreciatively.

"I didn't realize you had a knack for drawing," I comment as I trace the intricate forms on his chest. "Wait," I still, my finger on top of the triangle on his chest. "You added this?" I ask and he nods.

"I like to tweak the designs every now and then. But this was the first time I altered the meaning of the original ensemble."

"I love it," I tell him sincerely.

"Now let's see what you want." His enthusiasm is infectious as we start going over potential designs and concepts.

"I want one on the cross here," I point to the ugly scar on top of my breast, "and one here," I move my hand up to my neck, to the scar he'd given me months ago.

He blinks, his eyes focused on that spot as he swallows deeply.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again, eyes closed, a look of pure agony on his face. "I don't think I'll ever be able to make it up to you for that… or anything." He sighs, his features forlorn as he looks anywhere but at me.

"Vlad," I tip his head up, "we need to move on. We're here now, and stronger together because of that incident. Please stop torturing yourself with it. I told you." I take a deep breath, wanting him to see the sincerity in my eyes. "I forgive you."

"Thank you," he says earnestly, and I gift him a smile.

"Here," I point to my neck, "I want a V."

His eyes immediately widen. Stupefied, he looks at me as if I'd grown a second head.

"You mean…" he trails off, dumbstruck, and for as long as I live I don't think I will forget the look on his face. The incredulity on his face reminds me of the time he'd deemed himself unworthy of my tears.

"I want one dagger here," I take his finger, the tip touching my skin as I show him what I have in mind, "and another line starting from the tip of the blade, here." I move his finger around in the shape of a V.

He doesn't speak, still looking at me reverently, his gaze fixed on the small scar at the base of my neck.

"And I want a red drop of blood falling from the blade," I continue, letting his finger trail down to my collarbone. "Because our relationship was forged in blood, tested in blood, and made stronger by blood," I remind him.

Our paths had crossed because of blood, and our relationship had been destroyed because of blood. But in blood we'd found each other again, and we'd shared every little piece of ourselves — every sin, and every transgression.

"Sisi…" he starts, shaking his head at me as if he still can't quite believe it.

"I want you with me. Always."

"Your wish is my command, Sisi," he replies, his voice thick with emotion.

Opening a tube of anesthetic cream, he applies it gently over my skin, his attention wholly focused on spreading it evenly.

After cleaning it, he makes a quick draft in pen, giving me a mirror to check the design.

"Wow," I whisper as I crane my neck to see the entire drawing. The scar is no longer visible under it.

He even added some intricate details to the dagger, making it seem like an ancient relic. The hilt is thicker than the blade, ending with a rounded corner that has an encrusted jewel.

"Ruby," he says when he sees me examine the jewel. "Red like blood. Precious like blood. And beautiful like you."

And just like that he's back to work, focused again on my neck. As if he didn't just melt my heart with a single sentence.

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispers as he brings the tattoo gun to my skin, tracing the sketch he'd made.

It doesn't hurt at all. Like a tickling sensation, I only feel him glide over my skin, his breath hot as it lands right on my ear lobe, making me squeeze my thighs in response.

How is it that he makes every mundane action so hot? I can't help myself even as I know that he needs to concentrate on my neck.

Instead, my eyes take in the great expanse of inked muscle, the flex of his arms, the defined pecs and…

I swallow as my gaze dips lower to his pebbled abdomen, the urge to touch him almost unbearable.

"Done," he says and I almost jerk in my chair. I hadn't been paying attention to anything but him. Although the tattoo isn't big, I'm surprised he's done so quickly.

He cleans the area before giving me the mirror again to survey the final product. The V is clearly defined even as the dagger takes the central stage, immediately drawing the eye to it.

For the blood and the ruby he'd chosen a deep red, and as I see the drops fall from the ruby down the blade and toward my collarbone, I can't help but be impressed.