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She continued to lazily rub Isaac’s hand. After several minutes, she thought Isaac wasn’t going to say any more, but then he spoke again.
“When Austin was eighteen, he asked me for a memorial tattoo for our dad. By that time, I’d been tattooing for more than five years professionally, so I thought it would be a piece of cake. But when I put my hands on Austin my magic rejected the idea of the tattoo. I told Austin I wouldn’t do it, but he hounded me for six months until I gave in. A few months later, he was dead because the tattoo drove him crazy.”
Kate’s specialty was sensing feelings in objects, not people, but in that moment, she swore she could feel Isaac’s pain in his hands. Pushing some heat into her own hands, she cupped both of his in both of hers, letting her warmth seep into him. It wouldn’t ease the pain of his loss, but maybe the heat would feel good.
If she had never pushed for him to help her, maybe he wouldn’t be reliving his pain right now.
Not only had she projected her pain and insecurities onto Isaac, she’d forced him to deal with something painful in his own past. Now it was her turn.
“I was about ten or so when I saw the Disney movie Mulan. My friends all wanted to be like Disney princesses and get the prince, but not me.”
She felt Isaac chuckle against her back. “Why am I not surprised?”
His comment made her smile as she remembered. “I was fascinated with the movie, but not because of Mulan herself. Sure, she was a badass, but it was the sword that had me riveted. I wanted to be able to make a sword like that.”
She gave a small sardonic laugh, remembering her friends in their princess Halloween costumes and her in her jeans and safety goggles wielding a cardboard sword. “I must have watched that movie a hundred times just to see the swords. I’d always had a bit of artistic talent, but I’d never done more than play around with sketches or do what I had to for art class. Until that year.”
Looking at Isaac’s hands in hers, she slowly ran one finger along each of his. He took one of her hands in his and linked their fingers. Both of them were artists; they just used different mediums.
Their similarities had drawn her to him as much as they’d scared the crap out of her.
“Drawing swords became my obsession. As soon as I finished my homework, I would grab my sketchbook and design swords. The internet was only just becoming commonplace back then so there wasn’t a lot about swords and blacksmithing like there is now. But I got books from the library.”
Kate filled up book after book with her sketches. She still had every one of them in a box somewhere.
Isaac rubbed his thumb over hers to let her know he was listening, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I think I was about fifteen or so when my dad came into my room to ask me to do something. I don’t even know what because he only said ‘Kate, can you—’ before he looked at the library books about swords and blacksmithing all over my bed. He grinned and said he might have something better.”
She laughed as her eyes misted over when she remembered what happened next.
“Dad asked me what kind of swords I was most interested in and what type of designs. I went on and on about Viking broadswords and the different types of Damascus patterns I’d been reading about. Then Dad conjured a sword. The blade was over three feet long, and far heavier than I thought it would be. At that point, I’d never actually held a sword before. I was mesmerized.” She felt a burning in the backs of her eyes but called up her magic and blinked, drying her eyes.
“Oh God,” she giggled. “Mom came into my room to say it was dinner time, and oh boy, you should have seen the look on her face. Dad was definitely in the proverbial doghouse that night. Mom was so angry that Dad had conjured me a real, deadly weapon, and not only right in my room, but that he let me keep it.”
“Do you still have that sword?” Isaac asked softly.
“Yeah, it’s in a place of honor in my bedroom, above my dresser.” The smile fell from her face when she realized Isaac had never been in her bedroom. She had worked so hard to keep her distance for fear he’d hurt her that she had done them both a disservice by not letting him really know her at all.
Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead. “The day I got accepted for a swordsmith’s apprenticeship was the best day of my entire life. I already felt like I knew so much. I had studied everything I could get my hands on to learn about forging and stock removal. Theoretically, I knew about heating, holding, hitting, and shaping. Sure, I knew theory was different than practice, but I was so ready to learn…” She let her voice trail off as several negative experiences from that apprenticeship came to her mind.
“Was it what you thought it would be?”
Isaac’s question was so simple, but the answer was more complicated than an intricate Damascus pattern. “I never thought being a woman would hold me back as much as it did. Let’s just say that it taught me sometimes skills and dedication don’t matter. Men will take whatever they want, whether it’s their due or not. They also make decisions without consulting you.”
“Woah.” Lifting her by her upper arms, Isaac turned her until she was half-facing him. “We’re not all like that.”
“Really? If the shit at the restaurant the other night hadn’t happened, would you have finally agreed to tattoo me anyway?” Kate slid off the bed so she could stand, giving herself some space and distance from Isaac. She wanted to believe she’d been wrong about Issac—that he was different—but thinking of her apprenticeship had brought all her old hurts to the surface. Superimposed over them was an image of Isaac standing in her shop refusing to tattoo her.
Isaac moved over so his feet were on the floor while still sitting on the edge of the bed, not crowding her. “I don’t know… but it wasn’t because I was making decisions for you, Kate. Or because you’re a woman. I needed to listen to my magic.”
“Because I’m only good enough to fuck? But not to respect?”
Isaac held up his hands as if to ward off an attack. “Kate, don’t you dare go there again! I told you yesterday how much I respect you and it wasn’t me who wanted the friends-with-benefits thing.”
When he finally stood, Kate backed up a step. Not because she was worried he’d hurt her. She wasn’t. It was because she needed the space between them. If he pulled her into his arms, she knew she’d crumble.
“I want to date you,” he said, his voice much lower now. “I want to make love with you and learn everything there is to know about you!”
