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Oberon’s brows rise. “So…we should do it, right? I’m sure you know a guy.”
He gestures at my tattoos, and I tilt my chin in a single nod. “Yeah,” I say. “The only problem is that…well, fuck, you already know.”
“I don’t,” Aisling says in confusion.
“Our gang tats,” Oberon says, gesturing up at his. It’s covered with bites now, an attempt to remove any allegiance to the Eclipse…but it still appears like a bruise on his tan skin, a black blotch that once was a perfect circle. “Once we get a pack tattoo, it doesn’t provide any of the protection it may once have. The Angels, the Eclipse—the organization is supposed to take precedent.”
Aisling’s brow furrows, eyes meeting mine. “What do you want to do?”
I sigh. “I would be lying to myself if I tried to say I felt any sort of allegiance to the Angels anymore. Vance…he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“We should get marked then, right?” Aisling says. “Hell, we could do it tonight.”
“It’s up to you, man,” Oberon adds. “Fuck knows I don’t give a damn about the Eclipse anymore, but you’re a lifelong Angel. I wouldn’t insist you don’t do it.”
Aisling steps closer, her hand finding mine, her touch a lifeline. “You really don’t have to, Gunnar,” she whispers. “I would understand.”
“But you’re worth it,” I say to her, the weight of my decision settling in my chest. “Both of you are.”
“Even if it means turning your back on the Angels?” Her question is a whisper, but it echoes loud in the stillness of our sanctuary.
“Even then.” My voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears. Vance’s face flashes in my mind, the dream where he calls me traitor, his blue eyes cold and accusing.
But dreams are just echoes of our fears; they hold no power here.
“Alright.”
She squeezes my hand, a silent signal that she’s with us—with me—until the end.
I just have to hope that end won’t come soon.
The tattoo parlor is quiet for a Thursday night, walk-ins permitted only for friends of the artist—Micah. I’m lucky that I’ve gotten tatted with this guy before; he gave me my wings just a year or so ago, and the blossoming rose that covers my entire bicep, a memorial for my father. The buzz of the tattoo gun hums through the room, a lullaby for warriors. It’s a sound that promises both pain and permanence. Sitting on the edge of the worn leather chair, I roll up my sleeve, baring skin to needle, to fate.
“Where?” Micah’s question is blunt, his eyes sharp as he preps his tools, but it’s not like he doesn’t know why we’re here. The whole city whispers about the pheromone-dosed ink now, how it might just be the new shield against Eros Alphas and their mind-twisting scents.
“Here,” I say and point to a spot on my forearm. It’s visible enough to warn others, close enough to remind me of what’s at stake.
Aisling stands beside me, her presence a steady beat like a drum in my chest. She watches with those storm-cloud eyes, unflinching. Oberon’s next to her, his jaw set, his body language speaking of readiness, of storms brewing on the horizon.
“Okay…” Micah says. “I need to get a blood sample from each of you, and the process from there is that we use your blood to create a pheromone ink. This is stronger than the synth stuff—and you should know it could trigger a rut.”
“Gotcha,” I nod. “We’re prepared for that.”
“Does it work?” Aisling’s voice cuts through the drone of the gun, her question for all of us. Does anything really work in this shredded world?
“Rumor says yes, but I’m not packed up myself,” Micah replies. “I heard it kinda masks omegas from these psychos out on the streets…and someone did tell me it worked. If it gets worse…”
“I don’t want to take any risks, Ais,” I say, looking up at her. “I’m ready.”
Micah glances at the tattoo on my neck. “Feel like I just gave you your wings, man. You and Solace on the outs?”
“Something like that.”
“Fine,” the artist nods. “As long as I’m not gonna get into any heat for this…I’ll do whatever you pay me for.”
“Thanks, Micah,” I mutter. “Glad you could come through for me.”
Micah chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s not every day I get to experiment with new ink. Keeps things interesting.”
