Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2)

We should get an apartment together. We should—

Zane passes by and claps me on the shoulder, followed by Rafe. They stop in front of the desk and Zane gives me a once-over.

I scowl at him. “What?”

“You have a scar on your stomach,” he says without preamble.

What the fuck? I put down my phone, cold slicing through me. “Yeah, so?”

“But you didn’t cover it up with ink.”

I resist the urge to press a hand to my stomach, over the scar under discussion. “After I had my chest tattooed, I realize the ink wouldn’t really cover it completely. So I left it as it is.”

“It’s a good place,” Rafe says. “You’re right.”

“I have one that will fit just right.” Zane nods. “I’ll do it.”

I frown. “What are you two talking about?”

“I vote yes,” a familiar voice says, and Asher appears behind Zane. I didn’t even hear the door chimes.

Dylan is with him. “Fine by me,” he says and shoves purple-tipped bangs out of his face.

Slowly and deliberately I get up and fold my arms over my chest. I won’t say I look down at them from my six foot two—they’re all big guys. I swear Asher must still be growing because he’s almost my height, and the others are easily six foot tall, all of them. But I feel better standing, staring them in the face, than sitting down while they’re obviously discussing me.

“Care to explain?” I finally grind out when they mimic my stance, folding their arms and lifting their chins.

“We think you need a new tattoo,” Zane says.

“I don’t want more ink. Told you.”

“Didn’t say you wanted. Said you needed one, fucker.”

I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw. What the hell is he talking about? “I said no.”

“It’s a symbol,” Asher says quietly. He shrugs his jacket off, then pulls off his sweater and shirt. The hell?

I blink. He has a big black dragon inked on his chest and shoulder. He didn’t have this four years ago, when I left.

Then again, back then I had no ink either, and look at me now.

“Symbol for what?”

“Survival,” Zane says. “We each have a dragon inked on us, to remind us of it.”

“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger and all that bullshit?” I drawl, a bit confused and annoyed by it.

“What doesn’t kill me can kiss my ass,” Rafe mutters, and I stifle a snort.

“It’s a brotherhood, motherfucker.” Zane advances on me and pushes me a step back. “We are brothers. Pain has made us so. We stand by each other. Pull each other up when we fall. We are the family we never had. Are you in?”

My gaze passes from Asher to Rafe to Dylan and back to Zane. “Are you serious?”

“Damn right I am. You need that ink. Because you’re family.”

I let my hands drop to my sides. I’m familiar with the sting of the tattoo gun. I’m familiar with pain in many forms. That doesn’t frighten me. But this is more than that. It’s not about covering my scar. It’s about showing everyone who I am and where I belong.

Asher nods