Page 22 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)

WREN

I felt the surprise flare in my eyes at Brix’s words. Ink me. “I don’t know how.” But even as I said it, the ache in my chest deepened. Even without releasing my emotional shields, I could feel his pain, his fear.

“I can teach you,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

“Can you explain it to me?” I asked gently. “What it will give you.”

I worried that it might be the search for more pain. The release he used to find through sparring or ink sessions with Ender. I knew that had gotten him through some of his darkest times. But I didn’t want to be another source of pain for him.

Brix’s hand slid into my hair. “I need to feel you in the dark.”

I frowned, trying to understand.

“I’ve carved the darkness into my skin, over and over again, but now I need the light.” He traced a scene of two wolves in battle, snarling at each other.

“But there’s no room,” I said, confused. The truth was, most of Brix’s skin was covered in tattoos. There was very little space to add anything.

“There’s an enchanted ink that’s metallic in nature. I want you to paint the light in the dark. I don’t want to erase the images. I want to bring balance.”

I suddenly understood because I’d experienced the same.

Looking back on my past, it wasn’t that I wanted to live through it again, but I could appreciate it for what it had taught me and where it had brought me.

It had made me strong and given me the life I now had—the guys, our home.

The darkness was only that because of the light it held—a light that had carried me through.

I leaned forward on my knees and brushed my lips against Brix’s. “I’ll remind you of the light.”

His shoulders relaxed as he pulled me into him and stood. “I love you, Little Warrior.”

“I love you, too.”

Brix lifted me, and my legs encircled his waist. He gave my ass a little love tap as he carried me inside and toward the tattoo room. “You know, this is a lot of power in your hands.”

I grinned. “I could put hearts and butterflies all over your badass ink.”

He chuckled. “They’d still be badass butterflies.”

My grin widened against Brix’s neck, the feeling of his skin and the scent of leather and spice heating my blood.

He was unending comfort and scorching heat all at once.

I could feel the darkness raking at my emotional shields, but I didn’t let it scare or overwhelm me.

We were going to deal with it in our own way.

In a way that wouldn’t drown me or overtake Brix.

Voices sounded from various areas of the house, but we didn’t see a single soul on the way to the tattoo studio. When we reached it, Brix flipped on the light and gently set me down .

“You know,” I said, looking around the space for the second time and taking in new details, “I could get used to you carrying me everywhere.”

Brix chuckled as he moved to a sink and began washing his hands. “Don’t tempt me, Little Warrior. I’ll take you against me any time I can get it.”

I pressed my thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the tension there. Brix’s gaze dropped to them, not missing a thing. “Killing me, Little Warrior. Killing me.”

I cleared my throat and moved to the sink, too. “I’m pulling it together. I can be a professional.”

Brix pressed a kiss to my temple as I washed my hands. “It’s good to know it’s a struggle for you, too.”

I tipped my head back as I dried my hands, then kissed him. The taste of his heady spice filled my mouth, and I moaned softly. What had gotten into me? I couldn’t seem to stop touching, tasting, and drowning in my mates. I could never get enough.

It was Brix who finally broke the kiss, his breathing labored. “Ink,” he growled.

“Right,” I mumbled, clasping my hands in front of me as if that would stop my horny self.

But as Brix moved around the room, gathering supplies, a different sort of fascination took over. He was so at home in the space. Had a quiet confidence that was hypnotizing. He gathered something that looked like some kind of gun, some wrapped needles, and two small pots.

“Tattooing supernaturals is different than humans,” Brix explained.

“Because we heal so fast?” I asked, remembering how the tattoo Brix had given me had healed almost instantly.

“That’s part of it, but you also have to use special ink to make sure it’s permanent. Because our bodies will disintegrate normal tattoo ink.”

I moved in closer, studying the pot of ink. It looked like pure shimmer—not like diamonds, but even more sparkly, as if it were fairy dust. “This is different than what you tattooed me with.”

Brix lifted the small pot for me to see. “It’s light ink. Enchanted to be used on the darkest tattoos.”

The ink itself was hypnotizing, as if it could pull me in and swallow me whole. And as I touched the pot, I could feel the magic humming there. “Powerful,” I whispered.

“Yes. Especially with you wielding it,” Brix said softly.

He walked me through the basics, explaining that there were different types of needles, but I’d be using the finest one for this. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me,” he said as he pulled off his T-shirt.

I took in all the images inked across his skin—ones that seemed to expose his worst nightmares but also his greatest loyalties.

Arcane was inked over his left pec with five paw prints below it.

His pack. On his right were three paw prints, each hollowed out.

My heart ached when I realized they were for the family he’d lost.

Another battle scene was in the center of his chest, but this one was full of nonsensical monsters, dark and disturbing. This. This was where he needed the light.

I lifted the tattoo machine with my gloved hand. Taking a breath, I looked up into Brix’s eyes. “You’re sure?”

“I trust you.”

The ache in my chest intensified, but I knew he needed this. Closing my hand over the machine, it buzzed to life. I focused on one monster in particular. It was part shape, part smoke, its mouth open in a silent scream. But the scream was sucking out the soul of its enemy, taking its very essence.

I touched the needle to Brix’s skin, etching a line along the monster, and then pulled my hand back.

I watched as the ink seeped into his flesh and the tattoo changed.

The shimmer danced across the beast, and instead of being in battle with another creature, its head tipped back, arm-like appendages reaching skyward as if it were searching for salvation instead of attack.

“How?” I croaked .

“The ink takes what’s in our minds—yours and mine—and transforms the tattoo into what we need most.”

I stared in wonder at Brix’s chest, the designs pulling me back in.

I lost track of time as I worked, letting instinct guide me until my arm ached and I had to put the tattoo machine down.

But as I stepped back, I took in everything on Brix’s torso.

Some battles still remained, a reminder of his strength, but the stories they told were now ones of hope.

He slid off the chair and moved to the large mirror on the room’s far wall, taking me with him.

Brix stared at his reflection in the mirror, hypnotized by the new images gracing his skin.

Then, he turned, his hands sliding into my hair and his mouth taking mine.

“I love you, Little Warrior. You make everything better.”

“You’re being mushy in our tattoo studio?” Ender barked, cutting into my haze of happiness. “Is not one place sacred?”

I struggled not to laugh as I turned in Brix’s arms. “Got a problem, Mr. Pussy Palace?”

“Pussy Palace?” Rhys asked, striding in behind him. “There’s gotta be a story there.”

“There’s not,” Ender clipped.

I looked up at Brix. “Told you catching feelings made him grumpy.”