Page 38 of Inked & Bloodbound

He stares down at his lap, “No. I don’t understand it either. This is new to me too.”

I pause and consider my next move. “I have alotof questions, and I don’t trust you, so here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go get my baseball bat, and then we can talk. Don’t you fucking move.”

I slowly back out of the room, but before I can leave, he stops me.

“A baseball bat won’t do anything,” he says, but there’s no threatin his voice. “Would you feel better if I told you how you can hurt me?”

I consider this and rest my hand on my hip. “Yes. I would actually.”

“Do you have any silver?”

I nod, mentally going through my jewelry box and landing on a delicate sterling silver chain I got given as a teenager—a gift from Pat when I turned sixteen. “A necklace. Would that work?”

“Go get it.”

I hesitate for a moment, then go to my bedroom and retrieve the chain and weigh it in my palm, and grab my baseball bat for good measure. The little “L” charm catches the light as I carry it back to the living room.

Cassini is standing by the couch, and when I return, he pulls his T-shirt over his head, exposing the canvas of his chest. Tattoos sprawl across his skin in elaborate patterns—thorned roses and vines that curl around his ribs, Latin script over his collarbone. His body is beautiful in the way classical statues are beautiful, which I guess is nice if you like that kind of thing.

I did, until I found out he was fuckingdead.

He catches me looking, and the corners of his lips threaten to form a roguish grin. I roll my eyes, and he halts the burgeoning smile, all business again.

He beckons me closer and points to the middle of his chest. “Put it here, and watch what happens,” he says, preparing himself by sucking in a slow deep breath through his nose.

I move a little closer, still not sure I can trust him, and press the chain to his skin.

Within a few seconds, his flesh starts to sizzle, and steam rises from the wound that’s rapidly forming. He stays still, looking at me, fixing me with a steely look and breathing slowly and steadily.

The acrid smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils, and I watch in horrified fascination as the silver chain brands him. The little “L” charm presses into his skin like a hot iron, leaving behind an angry red welt in the perfect shape of my initial.

“Sorry,” I gasp, jerking the chain away. “I’m so sorry?—”

But Cassini doesn’t flinch, doesn’t cry out. He just looks down at the mark I’ve left on him with a sick kind of curiosity. The letter “L” is seared into the flesh between his pecs, the edges still smoking slightly.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper, unable to look away from the brand.

“Yes,” he says simply. “But I’ve had much worse.”

Even as we speak, I can see the wound healing as the charred edges stitch themselves back together. The angry red fades to pink scar tissue, then to the pale olive of his normal skin tone. Within a minute, there’s nothing left but unblemished flesh, as if I’d never touched him at all.

“It heals that fast?”

“One of the perks of being undead.” He pulls his shirt back on, covering the spot where my initial branded him. “You should also know that wooden stakes through the heart will kill us if they’re blessed wood, and we can’t enter homes without an invitation. Which is why I wasn’t worried about Cyrus and his buddies coming in, but that doesn’t mean their humans can’t.”

“That guy from the tattoo shop was a vampire?” I ask.

“Yes. Most of the Sixth tattooists are. In fact the whole street is full of them. So I’d avoid that place if I were you.”

I clutch the chain tighter in my fist, the metal now warm from contact with his skin. “Good to know.”

“Feel safer now?”

I consider this, weighing the baseball bat in my other hand. “A little, but I’m keeping this too, just in case.”

“If it makes you feel safer, do whatever you need.”

There’s a part of me that’s still in disbelief. Not about the vampire thing, because as weird as it is, I believe that. No, what’s twisting my brain right now is the fact that I’ve never had a man do anything like this before. He chose to hurt himself to make me feel safe.