Page 73 of Dragonfly

“One of your businesses?” she asks.

“Something like that. It’s more like we give Roger most of his business, and because of that, it’s a welcome place for my men in case they need one.”

I would’ve thought that she figured out what we were doing here once she saw it was a tattoo parlor, and maybe she did, but that doesn’t stop Savannah from asking me, “And why have you brought me here?”

With one hand on the lower back of her jacket, I use my other to open the door. Normally, Roger closes up his shop at six. It’s after eight, but the door’s unlocked because I asked him to give me an eight o’clock appointment as a favor to me.

“I told you once that you have to earn your dragonfly,” I murmur, guiding her into the clean shop. The scent of disinfectant slaps you in the face as you enter, as does the bright light Roger uses so he can see what he’s doing, but those are all marks of a shop where I trust the ink. “It’s time.”

Savannah bites down on her bottom lip. For a moment, I wonder if my murderess will fight me on this. To wear the Dragonfly… she spent years plotting how to take us down. With my mark on her skin, it’ll be a reminder that she didn’t. That she actually became one.

I won’t force her. When it comes to this… this has to be her decision.

I wait on bated breath, only to feel my chest puff up in pride when my wife simply says, “Can I pick the colors?”

Brushing my lips over the shell of her ear, hiding my smile of relief, I tell her, “Naturalmente.”

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Savannah in the nude. Before now, she didn’t have a single tattoo, a fact that did not pass me by as she agrees to mar that beautiful skin with my symbol. She goes through it all like a champ, not even wincing when Roger starts the outline on her inner arm.

She ends up picking colors similarly enough to mine. There’s purple and green in her dragonfly, with a hint of yellow and orange, too. Half the size and almost dainty, it’s perfect by the time Roger is done.

Like he does for every Dragonfly, he made sure she understood just what she’s signing up for when she gets her tattoo. For a moment, I think she might back out, but all she did was thrust out her wrist and say, “Ready.”

Now she’s been given instructions on how to care for it, her new tattoo covered up with second skin, and she seems ready to go—but I’m not.

Roger swaps out his gloves. “One moment, Mr. Libelulla, then we can get started on you.”

Savannah’s head snaps my way. There’s a question on her lips she doesn’t quite ask, though that’s alright. I’ll answer her anyway.

“You didn’t think you would be the only one marked tonight, did you? Ragna mia… if you are my property, I am yours. And I will wear your mark proudly on my skin.”

I jerk my chin at Roger. “You prepared the stencil I approved?”

“Got it right here, sir.”

“Then, please, show my wife.”

It’s a spider. Nothing too graphic, or detailed—not like my large dragonfly tattoo—but its undeniably an illustration of a black widow spider.

“Where are you planning to put that?”

I smile at Savannah. I’d already removed my jacket in preparation for my appointment, and my fingers fly down my shirt, unbuttoning it so I could take that off next.

One I have, I trace my finger over the scar on my side.

She swallows notably. “You’re covering it up?”

“No. I would never cover up my wife’s handiwork. But I will put the spider right next to it as a reminder not to piss my personal black widow off again.”

I thought she’d laugh or roll her eyes. Only… unless I’m mistaking it or it’s the fault of the bright lights, it seems to me as if those pretty brown eyes are shiny with unshed tears instead. And then she blinks a few times, and I know I’m right.

Even better, part one of my plan is a clear success.

And once the tattoos have healed enough, it’ll be time for part two.

TWENTY-FIVE

PART TWO

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