Page 56 of Inflict

Petite.

Pale skin.

Connor cleared his throat, managing to say, “Huh.”

“Well, there she is, lad. You took more after me, I’d say.”

Clearly.

Connor knew better than to ask if his mother had been one of Sean’s many girls, but he figured the answer was staring him right in the face, anyway.

“You can keep that,” Sean said, “as I have others.”

Connor picked the photo up, flipping it over in his hand.

And there … there he found his mother’s name.

Hannah.

“She was perfect,” Sean said, “and then she birthed you.”

“So, you could do this one?”

Connor closed the front door of the brownstone quietly, unsure of what he was hearing just down the hall. A conversation, obviously. Evelyn’s voice, though louder than what he’d heard her speak before.

Then, the reply came from Killian, ratcheting up the irritation Connor felt at hearing the two converse so easily. “It’s a lot of shading, and it’ll take me a while to copy it over to be able to transfer it, but I don’t see why not.”

It was entirely ridiculous of him to feel jealous over something so foolish, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Evelyn to talk to him; he wanted her to feel safe with him.

Even if he wasn’t the safest person to be around.

That didn’t matter, anyway.

It wasn’t the damn point.

Connor dropped the bags he held, right there at the front door, and quickened his steps, heading towards the voices.

“And you could do it here, right?” Evelyn asked.

“Upper thigh is a great spot for something like this, lass.”

Oh, feck no.

The sudden bloom of rage spreading within Connor’s chest came out of practically nowhere. But the very moment it was there, he knew it wasn’t going to go away until he knew exactly what was happening, and stopped it. He’d assumed Evelyn would keep to herself for the day while Killian watched her, because that seemed to be her nature.

Apparently not.

Apparently, she had made a friend.

Connor didn’t like that at all.

He didn’t exactly know why, but he did know that he didn’t like the conversation he was hearing. It sounded like someone planned to tattoo someone else, and that meant things, like someone would need to put their hands on someone else.

Bare skin.

Bare thighs.

Hands—though gloved—touching …