She shivered before me. “It spoke to me. It’s perfect. I’m starting a new life here, rising from my broken engagement. It made sense to me, and the colors were so beautiful—”
“What colors were they?”
“I don’t know. Red. Orange. Some blue.”
Colors. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to visualize the colors… I’d dulled them in my mind years and years ago—but in my flashback, they had been vibrant.
I opened my eyes. “You’re not going to get that tattoo.”
“Of course I am.”
“I don’t want you to have a tattoo.”
Still shivering, she bit her lip and then visibly stiffened. “I don’t recall asking your permission.”
I nearly snapped but held myself in check. She was right. She was not my slave, my property, even though I sometimes wished she were. “Fine. Mar your body if you want to, but not with that image.”
“But the image is perfect.”
A calculating need to control surged through me like rocket fuel. “Trust me, the image is far from perfect. It’s not you at all.”
“I disagree.”
“I don’t care. You’re not getting that fucking tattoo.”
Her eyes darkened to a smoky blue. “I am.”
I grabbed her, gripping her upper arms harshly.
She grimaced. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you promise me not to get that tattoo.”
She kept her mouth shut.
Fucking stubborn woman! No phoenix tattoo Not on my watch. I dragged her into my shower and turned it on with a swoosh of water. Once it was steamed up, I pushed her inside.
She cowered under the spray, her arms crossed over her chest as if to hide herself. She looked over her shoulder at me, her blue eyes glassy. “Why does this bother you so much? I don’t understand.”
I turned rigid, raking my fingers through my hair. “You’ll never understand. Why did I think you ever might?”
“Understand what? You haven’t given me any reason to—”
I grabbed a washcloth and squirted body wash onto it. I stepped in the shower behind her and started scrubbing the small of her back.
“Talon, not so rough, please.”
Rough? Hell, I didn’t care. I’d burn that shit off if I had to.
Once her skin was free of the outline and the last traces of black were swirling down the drain, I finally started to relax a bit. I slunk against the wet shower wall, closed my eyes.
I opened them when the water patterns changed. She had turned to face me.
Was that shower water running down her cheeks? Or were the tiny rivers tears?
The whites of her eyes had reddened.
Tears.