LISA

..

I stayed at Jennie's place every night leading up to her first tattoo session. For a student in a postgrad program, she was incredibly disorganized. It drove me batshit crazy, so I fixed the problem by setting up a filing system for her loose papers. I loved doing things like that.

Any other issues I had with her clutter I blocked out by keeping her naked—for the most part. After work I went over with snacks and beer, because Jennie didn't keep much of either in her apartment. Aside from cupcakes, anyway. Those she seemed to have an infinite supply of.

We hung out and I told her about my day, and she avoided any discussion pertaining to the content of her thesis. Not that it mattered; I'd skimmed much of it anyway when I filed it in the first place. I assumed she thought it would bore me, which was untrue, but I didn't push it. Based on what I'd read and the numerous books stacked on the floor, bursting with Post-it notes, most of her research centered around deviant behavior. Out of curiosity, I leafed through a couple of them while she was in the bathroom. Beyond the Post-it's there were passages highlighted all over the place. From what I could tell, she had interesting insight into some rather extreme modification practices, and all of her ideas were rooted in philosophical principles. I wouldn't offer my opinion, though, even if I did have one sect of the subculture well represented. I had an extensive collection of reading material on subjects ranging from anarchist philosophy and the history of tattooing to classic literature, but my education stopped at high school. My knowledge base came from practical experience and the things I read.

Aside from working on her thesis, the week passed in a blur of sexual activity: kitchen, couch, bedroom, the end result was always the same—Jennie naked, me inside her. But getting there was always an adventure, partly because her choice of underwear never ceased to amuse or arouse me. She had every style, color, fabric, and pattern covered. Although there were some highlights among her selection. On Saturday she came out of the bedroom in red satin with black polka dots and tiny black bows on each hip. Her hair in a ponytail, she looked like a pinup girl. We didn't make it past the couch. After she fell asleep, I hung out with TK and sketched her in that getup, thinking it would make a pretty awesome tattoo.

On Sunday I changed it up and took Jennie late-night grocery shopping, because there was no food in her apartment. She had terrible eating habits, unless one counted iceberg lettuce as a healthy choice. I informed her it had the nutritional value of air. She responded with an eye-roll and traipsed down the cereal aisle where she picked up a box of Cap'n Crunch. She pointed out all the essential vitamins and minerals in a serving when I bitched about that, too. Why she would eat a cereal that tore apart the inside of her mouth was beyond me. I made her promise not to eat it until after Thursday, when I could no longer take advantage of the loophole because the session would put her out of commission.

On Tuesday night Jennie had one of those nightmares she warned me about. She wasn't a very peaceful sleeper to begin with. Most nights I would wake up at some point to her soft whimpers. It made TK upset, and she paced around the bed, nudging me until I calmed Jennie. Some nights Jennie would flail restlessly and then cuddle right into me, like she couldn't get close enough. But tonight it was worse, much worse. The whimpers were what woke me initially. I rolled over and put my arm around her, because it usually helped.

"It's okay. I'm right here," I mumbled and kissed her hair, still in the warm balm of mostly-asleep.

It didn't last long, though. She started to thrash, pushing away from me, and the whimpers became louder, more despondent. That was new. I let go of her to find that her eyes were open, but it didn't seem like she was really seeing me. Locked inside the nightmare, she backed away until she hit the headboard, which she immediately started to scale, clawing at it like she was trying to escape. The frame was wrought iron and feminine with all these curlicues and pointy ends. She was naked, and I worried she was going to hurt herself.

"Come on, Jennie, wake up, you're having a bad dream." I pried her hands off the frame. It took more effort than I expected.

That was when the bloodcurdling screams started. I would never forget that sound. It was pain in its rawest form; half human, half animal, all anguish. I didn't know how a noise like that could come out of someone so small. I flicked on the lamp, illuminating the room in a soft glow. She was curled up in a tight ball on top of the covers, her dark hair fanned out over the rumpled sheet. She looked pitifully frail like that; her body trembling, her hands covering her head as she screamed; high-pitched wails that made my ears and chest hurt. I remembered how bad the nightmares could be.

I got in real close and put my hand on her back, smoothing it over the scarred, pitted skin. She was covered in goose bumps. "Jennie, kitten, please, you need to wake up." I had to raise my voice above the screaming. I understood what she meant now about her neighbor being able to hear her.

All of a sudden she sat up, eyes scanning the room until they came to rest on me. She was awake, no longer looking through me but at me. Her fingers drifted unsteadily over my cheek and across my jaw. "Lisa?"

"I'm right here. It was just a dream, you're okay." I put my hand over hers and kissed her palm, drawing her closer.

"I thought . . ." She looked so confused, then her eyes filled with tears. "They're gone, everyone is gone."

"Who's gone, kitten?"

She scrambled into my lap and threw her arms around me, her body shaking so hard that her teeth chattered. I could feel her tears on my neck as she burrowed in. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into my chest as she hiccupped.

"Shh, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry." I stroked her hair back. Her skin was damp with sweat. I pulled the covers over us and piled up the pillows behind me so I was half sitting with her in my lap.

"I don't want you to go," she moaned, her arms tightening around my neck.

"Go? Where would I go?" I kissed her temple and shifted her around. She held on hard, her face buried against my neck.

"Jennie?" When she didn't reply, I tried again. "Jennie, look at me." I urged her head up until her eyes lifted. "Nightmares aren't going to chase me off."

More tears slid down her cheeks. "I just want the pain to stop. You make it so much better . . . being with you makes it better," she whispered.

I kissed her softly. "That's good. I want to do that for you."

Eventually her breathing evened out and her body relaxed, arms loosening but not letting go. She was almost lying on top of me in her bid to get as close as possible. It took me a long time to fall back asleep. The anguished screams and her words kept replaying in my head. I wanted to know what exactly I was making better for her.

As I lay there, wishing I had answers I knew weren't coming anytime soon, I realized I hadn't slept in my own bed in a week. I didn't miss it, either. Not even on nights like this. In spite of Jennie's lackluster housekeeping skills and her constant disorganization—apart from her perfect bookshelves—I preferred dealing with the clutter and the nightmares to not being with her. Before now, I had never slept in anyone else's bed but my own, unless I counted the spare room at Rosé and Eunwoo's place when I got too hammered to make it home. But staying with Jennie was different. There was comfort in waking up beside her. I liked being too warm in the morning because I'd been wrapped around her all night.

It was more than just the sleepovers, though. I looked forward to her nightly visits to Inked Armor. I liked sitting on her couch, telling her about the clients I worked on or the stupid shit Jackson did. I'd been alone for so long, steeped in routine and order, that I hadn't realized how nice it was to have someone to see at the end of the day. Whenever I stopped by my condo to change or shower, I didn't stay long. It felt too empty, like it was missing something. It was.

I was starting to think of her as mine. For the first time in my life, I wanted someone for myself. And I would take her any way she came.

..

Thursday morning arrived too soon. I woke before Jennie. She was in her usual spot, snuggled into my side. It was still early, which meant I had plenty of time to thoroughly enjoy her. I wanted to take it slow, nothing like the aggressive, hot sex from last night, because this would be it for a while. And not because of the stupid rule, which I had no intention of following, based on where things were going with her.

After the first session, she would be off-limits while her back healed. The first few days were usually the worst, the discomfort a difficult adjustment. We hadn't talked about what would happen between us then, but I planned to make myself available as much as possible. The emotional impact of a session could be a lot to deal with, especially one of this magnitude. After my first substantial piece I went on an epic bender, the events of which were hazy. The parts I did remember weren't all that pleasant. Courtesy of my inability to deal, I required extensive touch-up work. At least with Jennie I could walk her through it if she wanted me to.

Jennie stirred beside me, uncurling into a stretch. Her body went rigid while her muscles vibrated, then she threw her leg over mine, trapping my dick under her hip.

I palmed her ass, pulling her tighter against me, her little moan a sign I wasn't the only one up. She nuzzled in, her forehead pressed against the side of my neck. TK mewed in discontent when I moved her off my chest to make room for Jennie.

She cleared her throat and licked her lips, peeking up at me with sleep-heavy eyes. "Morning."

She sidled up even closer and I helped shift her weight until she was lying on top of me. I wanted her, and I assumed by the strategic positioning of her body that she felt the same way. Her palms slid under my shoulders and she laid her cheek on my chest, giving me a full-body, naked hug. Her knees were tucked tight against my sides, and while the important parts were lined up for action, I got the distinct impression it wasn't meant to be solely sexual. I returned the embrace.

"I'm going to miss this," I murmured into her hair.

She lifted her head. "Two months is going to feel like forever."

I snorted. If the one-day sabbatical on Sunday was any indicator, my self-control would be well used up before her tattoo was complete. "Yeah, like I'm going to be able to wait that long."

"Oh?" she asked, perking up.

"It seems kind of pointless." One of my hands drifted over the swell of her ass, ready to help out with friction if need be.

"You don't think it will cause problems with Jackson and Eunwoo?" she asked, kissing the bottom of my chin.

"Eunwoo doesn't give a shit, and it's none of Jack's goddamn business," I said. It came out more heated than I meant it to.

Jennie tried to move away, but I tightened my hold on her waist. I didn't want the conversation to take a negative turn, not when my remaining hours with her unclothed were limited. With the session scheduled for later in the evening, I wanted her relaxed today, not stressed about things that shouldn't matter.

"I'm sorry, sometimes Jackson pisses me off."

"Rosé said this whole thing has been a point of contention between you."

Rosé and I needed to talk about the kind of information she disseminated to Jennie. Jennie didn't need to worry about Jackson and his issues. Or what caused them.

"It's not like avoiding this"—I gestured to our current position—"is going to change anything other than make me testy."

"We wouldn't want that."

"Definitely not." I shook my head with mock solemnity. "I'm a pain in the ass when I'm in a bad mood."

"I can only imagine," she said, her lips torturously close to my nipple.

"You're not supposed to agree with me," I said, smacking her ass. Not hard, but her eyes went wide.

Her mouth covered the barbell and she sucked gently. Her teeth followed, scraping over sensitive skin, tugging on steel. It was hard to fake anger when she did things like that.

"You're the one who said it. I can't help that you're sensitive." Her smile was all seductive innocence.

"I'm not sensitive." I found the implication mildly offensive, even though it might have been true.

"Of course you're not."

"You better watch yourself," I threatened. It was idle. I had no recourse planned, at least not in the immediate future. Later, maybe, when she wasn't expecting it.

Jennie pushed up on her arms, preventing groin to groin contact. "You think you're so scary, don't you?" She looked at me through her lashes, smiling coyly as she arched her back and her tight, rosy nipples grazed my chest.

"And you think I'm not?" I cocked an eyebrow, interested to see where she was going with this. I liked it when she was playful. I also liked it when she was aggressive and needy, or soft and submissive.

She shook her head and kissed along the edge of my jaw. "You're too pretty to be scary."

I almost missed the content of the statement thanks to her sultry tone. "What did you just say?" I asked, hoping I hadn't heard her right. "Did you call me 'pretty'?"

She kissed the hollow under my ear, completely ignoring my questions. I didn't know whether to be insulted or turned on. I didn't have much time to decide on any one emotion, because she palmed my erection, wrapping her fingers around it. "It's better than being adorable, isn't it?" she asked, taunting me.

"Not really," I groaned, unable to maintain my indignation.

With one hand braced beside my head, Jennie looked down our bodies to watch as she stroked up my shaft, twisting at the head. Her fiery gaze met mine and she slid my cock over her clit, back and forth. All I could focus on was how simultaneously close and far she was from taking me inside her. She teased the head at her entrance, wet and slick and hot, and right there.

When she shifted her hips, my cock slipped inside, up to the piercing. Her face dropped into my neck, her hot breath on my skin as her lips parted and her teeth pressed in. She moaned, the sound vibrating over my body as she rocked back slowly and took me inside. She kept up the slow descent, the sensation almost too much to handle. Her jagged fingernails dug into my shoulders.

"Jennie? Kitten?" I asked, worried about how stiff she'd gone.

I rubbed the back of her neck and tried to coax her to look at me, but she bit harder and slid down farther until her ass rested on my thighs. She stayed like that for a minute, or longer, or shorter, I had no clue; I was too wrapped up in the feel. It was different this morning, and I didn't know why; every touch was heightened to the extreme. She released my skin from her teeth and followed with a kiss. Her pale hands splayed out over the ink covering my chest as she pushed up. She traced the designs, her fingertips trailing over my shoulders and down my arms until she reached my hands, settled on her thighs.

She rose up and gyrated as she sank back down. With each rotation of her hips, she picked up momentum, while I tried to slow her down.

"I need . . ." She laced her fingers through mine and leaned forward, pressing our twined hands against the sheets on either side of my head. I could have taken control, but I couldn't find the will to stop her, bound by the need to give her what she wanted.

Her hair hung in a veil around us, her face inches from mine. She hovered over me, looking at me with fierce emotion. In an unexpected rush, she slammed herself back down.

"Easy," I groaned and squeezed her fingers, pushing on her hands as she pushed back, her eyes blazing with defiance.

I wanted to know what was going on in her head, because I was all over the place with these fucking feelings. I pried my fingers free from hers and grabbed her hips before she could do it again. She strained against my hold.

With one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, I shifted under her without force or urgency, even though I felt her need for both.

"What are you trying to prove?"

"I don't know. I need you," she whispered.

"Its okay, kitten, I need you just as much." I didn't say it to make her feel better. Though it unnerved me, I meant it. I needed Jennie in the same way I needed order and routine. She had worked her way into that order, throwing my world into chaos. Everything about the life I had been living before her seemed like a wash of grays.

Her breath came fast and heavy, her body taut like stretched wire. I ran a hand up her back, willing her to relax with touch. When her tension eased, I cupped her face in my hand and kissed her, trying to keep the burning desire to devour her at bay, to show her it didn't always have to be that way. Although most of the time it was.

My tongue met hers and she relented with a needy sigh. The last thing I wanted was for Jennie to use this—whatever it was that had exploded between us—as a punishment for herself. The connection had grown exponentially, extending far beyond my physical need for her. It felt irrevocable. If I couldn't go back, I didn't want her to be able to, either.

I rocked her against me, staying deep. It felt much better than the furious sex from last night. I slipped my hand between us, pressing my palm against the place where her heart beat wildly. A tremor ran through her and her breathing sped; tiny moans hummed over my lips as I increased the tempo. Jennie circled her hips, grinding hard and slow with me, until her muscles locked and her lips parted. My name came out on a whisper as she shuddered and clung to me.

When her body went limp and her breathing slowed, I flipped her over. Supporting my weight on my forearms, I stayed close, intent on seeing her. I maintained the same slow rhythm as before, the shallow thrusts more than enough. She drew her legs up, her knees hitting my elbows as she sucked in a high-pitched breath.

"Is this okay?" I asked, always worried about how fragile she was, physically and emotionally.

"Yes." Her eyes were glassy, distant. She ran her fingers through my hair, and her heel came to rest on my ass, pushing down. "It feels good. You feel good."

I captured her lips with mine, the kiss subdued.

"You can go harder," she said softly against my mouth. Her voice trembled, the ripple echoing through her body.

I shook my head. The all-consuming need for her made the request difficult to deny, and it scared the shit out of me. "I want you like this."

Her legs tightened around my waist as I continued to refuse what she pleaded for. But I couldn't give in, because what I needed was to hold on to the connection we had for as long as possible. A flash of fire burned through me and settled in the pit of my stomach, signaling I was close. The lance of heat detonated like a bomb inside me, and I thrust into her harder than I meant to. Her limbs constricted around me.

I bit her shoulder like she'd done to me, leaving twin concave impressions I tried to kiss away. My arms burned with the strain of supporting my own weight in such a confined position. When I went to roll off, Jennie's arms tightened around my back.

"Not yet, please."

I hooked her leg over my hip as I rolled onto my side, taking her with me, still inside her. We stayed like that, mouths fused, hands moving over each other until her clock told me we needed to get out of bed. When I left the warmth of her body, it created a strange void that made my chest ache.

I wanted to stay in bed with her all day and keep that satiated expression on her face, but she had class and I had work.

"Why don't you take a shower and I'll make breakfast," I suggested. Her hair was a wild mess. She looked like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. It was hot, in a Tim Burton movie kind of way.

"I have a better idea." She drew a lazy circle around my nipple, ghosting along the barbell. I tried to keep my dick from reacting but failed. "Why don't you have a shower with me and I can help you make breakfast."

"I like your plan better than mine." I threw off the covers and sprang to my feet.

Taking in the lines of her body, I watched as she stretched. She was slow to get out of bed in the morning, always favoring her right leg. At first I thought I was the cause, but I realized it must be residual trauma from her accident, because after the first ten minutes the mild limp disappeared.

The shower took a long time. It wasn't my fault, either. Jennie took great care in making sure I was clean. She paid special attention to the front of my body, particularly the groin region. I didn't complain, and neither did my dick. Then I returned the favor, because I was all about equity.

Afterward we made pancakes. Well, I made pancakes and Jennie tried to keep TK off the counter. By the time we finished breakfast, it was almost eleven.

"I gotta get to work soon," I said as Jennie put the last of the plates in the dishwasher and I rearranged them so she could fit more in.

Jennie glanced at the clock. "I should probably head out, too."

"I'll see you at six?"

"Mm-hm." She fiddled with the collar of my shirt.

"You know, if you're having second thoughts—"

"I'm not."

"But if you were—"

Her eyes lifted to mine. "I want this." The statement was loaded. She wasn't just talking about the tattoo anymore. "I know it won't be easy. And I don't want . . . this . . . to stop. But you're the only person who I trust to do this for me." She looked at me intently. "So . . . how long will I have to wait after the first session?"

"For what?"

"For you."

"Miss me already?" I smirked, but the twist in my gut unsettled me.

"I'm serious. How long?"

"A week, maybe a little longer. It depends on how quickly you heal."

She tugged on my shirt and I acquiesced to her silent request, bowing my head to hers. There was nothing soft in her kiss; it was full of aggressive possession. Sometimes words were unnecessary.

..

My day was booked solid. It meant I didn't have time to fixate on Jennie's impending session or the resulting complications. I'd done enough of that over the past week anyway.

At five thirty I prepared the private studio. Once everything was set up, I pulled her file. I had modified the design to avoid the most concentrated scarring on her back. The ones on her shoulder weren't too bad, which was good, because I couldn't get around them. Part of the wings would inevitably cut through some of the most sensitive places. Rosé and I had a long talk about it, and she echoed my concern about how the ink would take. In the end we came to the same conclusion: Jennie wouldn't be willing to postpone it, and I didn't want her to go to someone else who might fuck it up.

"So tonight's the night?" Jackson asked.

It hadn't taken long for him to get over things. I'd used a case of his favorite beer to apologize for challenging him to a throw down. It had helped smooth things over.

"Huh?" I looked up. He and Eunwoo were both watching me.

"You're starting Jennie's tattoo." Eunwoo answered for him.

"That's the plan."

"Do you know the story behind the design?" Jackson asked, crossing the room to look at the updated version.

Jennie hadn't said anything about it since our conversation last Wednesday, and I hadn't pressed for information. In truth, I didn't want to hear something that might make me want to renege. I had no intention of disappointing her.

"You know how it is. Once they're in the chair, they usually open up. I'm sure Jennie will be no different," I said, assuming indifference. She had promised to tell me more about her scars. Maybe she would offer insight during the session.

"You've been with her every night for the past week," Eunwoo pointed out. "You'd think she would have said something by now."

"What?" Jackson wore one of those brain-melting expressions. He looked from Eunwoo to me. "What's Eunwoo talking about? You've been with Jennie every night? As in with her, with her? Like breaking the rule with her?"

"We've been hanging out. It wasn't like I kept it a secret." I shot Eunwoo a look. I hadn't sought to publicize the information because I could have predicted Jack's reaction.

"But, but . . ." Jackson stammered.

"Rosé said she was in some kind of accident." Eunwoo deflected away from the finer details of hanging out. Not that I would share them with Jackson. I didn't need him imagining Jennie naked. Just thinking about it inspired unreasonable violence.

"What kind of accident?" Jackson asked.

"She has some scars." This topic wasn't any better than the previous one.

"Scars? Where?" Jackson kept injecting himself back into the conversation.

"What are you, a fucking parrot?"

He didn't have an opportunity to devise a clever comeback because two girls walked in.

"Asshole." He jumped out of his chair to greet them.

Jennie showed up a few minutes later. I steered her directly to the private room so we could avoid Jackson's curious glances.

"Hi," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets because I didn't know what else to do with them.

"Hi." She took a step toward me, then stopped, like she didn't know what to do, either. We were quite the pair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Good. Excited. Nervous." She wrung her hands.

I closed the distance and pulled her into a hug. Her arms came around my back, her cheek pressed against my chest. I rested my chin on top of her head. We could have stood there like that for hours and I wouldn't have minded in the least.

"Right after this I'll start acting professional," I said.

"Because you were so professional the last time you had me in your chair."

"I wasn't at all, was I?"

"No." She frowned. "I hope you're not like that with all your clients."

"Definitely not." I leaned down to kiss her.

She resisted at first, like she had honest concerns it was a possibility.

"Look at me," I said softly. When she did, I could see her fear. That was why it was a bad idea to get involved with a client; it made her more vulnerable. "I promise you're the only one."

When I kissed her, all the tension melted away. I only stopped because Rosé rapped on the door with her emergency knock.

I dropped one last chaste kiss on Jennie's lips. "Yeah?" I called over my shoulder.

Rosé poked her head in. "I'm getting coffees, either of you want one?"

So much for an emergency.

"I'm okay," Jennie replied.

"You sure? I'm getting one." I pulled out my wallet and passed Rosé a twenty. "Jennie likes those caramel latte things."

"I don't need the caffeine."

"Make it a decaf," I said to Rosé, "and I want the usual."

"Sure. Nice lip gloss, by the way. The sparkles really accent the viper bites." She winked at Jennie and pulled the door closed behind her.

I rubbed at my mouth with the back of my hand. It came away glittering. "Fuck."

"Not anytime soon," Jennie mumbled.

"It's only a week, but we can postpone the tattoo if that's a problem for you." I almost hoped she took me up on the offer.

"I'll survive."

I rubbed the rest of the lip gloss off on my shirt and flipped open her folder. "So I tweaked the design a little more."

"Oh?"

Mission: Change the Damn Subject accomplished. "I altered the shape of the wing here"—I pointed to the bottom corners—"and here," and traced the edge where it would rest on her shoulders. I was stalling, still worried about how she would react emotionally after the session. While the tattoo should be well on its way to healing after a week, it would be difficult to resist if she pressed for sex sooner. And she would. Because that was the way she worked.

"Like I said before, we're looking at about twenty hours to complete the design, but that depends on a lot of factors. We won't know how the ink is going to take for at least a couple of weeks. I've planned a four-hour session tonight for the outline. If you're uncomfortable, or it becomes too painful, you have to tell me to stop."

"Okay. Should I get undressed now?"

"Did you even hear what I just said?"

"You've scheduled four hours tonight for the outline. If I'm uncomfortable, I should tell you," she paraphrased.

"You're absolutely certain you want to go through with this?" I asked.

Jennie started slipping buttons through holes. I noted she took my advice and wore something easy to put back on later. And she wasn't wearing skintight jeans, either. With any other client I would have left the room to give them some privacy. Not with Jennie, though.

She'd changed her bra since this morning. It was dark blue with silvery lace trim and little crystals all over it. I didn't bother to hide the fact I was staring. She shrugged out of her top, folded it neatly, and set it on the counter where all the supplies were. Her hands went behind her back, a gesture that pushed her chest out as she unhooked the clasp of her bra. The straps slid down her arms and her perky breasts came into view. Her nipples tightened when the air hit them.

I didn't look away as I reached into the cupboard beside me to retrieve a towel. "Here."

She took it from me. "What's this for?"

"To cover yourself."

"Why? It's not like you haven't seen me topless before."

"Yeah, but now you're just torturing me. How would you like it if I whipped my dick out and made you look at it for the next four hours?"

Jennie glanced at my crotch. "Point taken." She covered herself up.

"Besides, I'm going to need Rosé's help to place the transfer."

"She's seen them before, too."

"Thanks for reminding me." I had the irrational desire to put Band-Aids over her nipples to make sure they stayed covered.

There was a brief tap on the door before Rosé identified herself. When I gave her the all clear, she slipped into the room.

"Perfect timing. Can I get a hand with this?" I motioned to the design.

"Sure." Rosé locked the door and passed out coffees first.

Mine was black and still too hot to drink, so I set it on the counter.

Jennie watched with curiosity as I took a seat in my chair and wheeled myself around the room, gathering up supplies as I went. I tossed Rosé a pair of latex gloves and grabbed a pair for myself. "Why don't you have a seat, kitten." I patted the stool in front of me.

Rosé shot me an incredulous look. I ignored her and focused on Jennie. She sat as directed, her back ramrod straight.

"You can relax for now. I have to use an antiseptic spray before we transfer the design to your skin," I said and moved her ponytail out of the way, exposing her scars. Jennie shivered and slumped a little.

Rosé coughed and mouthed a shocked expletive at me. No amount of verbal preparation could adequately describe the full extent of Jennie's scars.

"You'll take lots of breaks?" Rosé asked.

"Yeah, whenever I think she needs one," I said, reassuring her.

Rosé was justifiably concerned. It would be painful to ink over those areas, especially around Jennie's left hip. Jennie was thin, so anywhere close to bone would be sensitive. When we were ready to place the transfer, I had Jennie stand in front of the mirror.

"These need to be lower." I traced the waistband of her leggings. I preferred them to her jeans. There was no zipper, no button, no back pockets; just stretchy material that conformed to every curve of her lean body.

"You can pull them down," she said.

It was a damn good thing we had third-party company, because I would have been all over that comment otherwise. Instead I kept my mouth shut and hooked my thumbs under the fabric, lowering it until it sat beneath her hip bones. Rosé took the left side and I took the right, setting the transfer on Jennie's skin, making sure it was perfectly in line with her spine and her shoulders. Nothing looked shoddier than a full back piece that wasn't centered properly. Rosé held the corner and I smoothed it out, peeling it back once it was set.

"It's going to be gorgeous," Rosé said, her tone almost reverent.

Jennie turned to get a better view of the design. "Oh, wow," she whispered.

Rosé adjusted Jennie's ponytail and kissed her on the cheek. "Brave girl. See you in a few hours." She slipped out the door, closing it behind her with a quiet snick.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"I'm fine."

"It's okay to be scared." I pulled off a glove and dropped it on the counter so I could touch her without obstruction. I skimmed beneath the hollow of her eye, wiping away a solitary tear.

"I'm not afraid of pain."

"I know," I said, because I did. Jennie knew pain; she wore the proof on her body. But it came in different forms, and the physical kind was easier to deal with.

Her spine straightened. "I'm ready."

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