Page 70 of The Fated Mate Bandit

Aunt Emerald grabs for the door handle. “Jesus, Dagger. I’m driving next time.”

“Well, where are we going?” he asks.

The truth is, I don’t want to shop for baby things without Lucas. I guess I did this afternoon, but that was on a whim. I want to do the rest of the shopping with him at my side. I think he would enjoy it, the way he enjoyed our trip to Target. But I can tell this shopping trip means something to my aunts and uncle. It means something to Quin, too.

“The piercer,” I say.

Getting my bling is a rite of passage I don’t want to miss.

“Aren’t there rules about facial piercings in the military?” Uncle Dagger asks.

“He doesn’t have to get facial piercings. He could get nipple piercings or a belly button ring,” Aunt Crystal says. “Maybe a Prince Albert.”

“Trust me, those are more trouble than they’re worth,” Uncle Dagger cautions.

That borders on more information than I needed to know about my uncle.

“Actually, I checked the regulations, and there are exceptions for some shifter types,” Quin tells us, matter-of-factly. “Raccoon shifters are allowed three facial piercings. You just can’t get a tongue ring or any piercing you can’t remove yourself, like a dermal piercing. Nose rings, earrings, and lip rings are all okay.”

I may have checked the regulations before I enlisted. I’ve wanted to get piercings for a long time.

“Let’s go to Ringtail,” Aunt Emerald says. “They’re still open.”

Mom slides her arm around me. “I got my piercings done at ringtail, back in the day.”

“All of them?” I ask.

She nods. “I got twenty-four piercings in one day.”

I know she has twelve in each ear. I don’t know where the other piercings are, and I don’t ask.

“I got my piercings done at Ringtail, too,” Aunt Emerald says. “They do a good job.”

It’s a rickety ride to the edge of town. Uncle Dagger gets on and off the freeway because he thinks the camper can handle it, and it becomes clear very quickly that it can’t speed up enough to keep up with the other cars. He mutters something about Coin needing to take a look at it as he pulls off at the next exit. Ten minutes in, the engine gets much louder, but we keep on going.

“I really don’t think it’s safe,” Quin repeats.

Uncle Dagger finally pulls into the parking lot of a shop called Finders Keepers with wind chimes hanging in the windows and patio furniture scattered outside. On the other side of the building is a small black and white striped door with a thin sign that says “Ringtail Piercing Studio” along the top. There are no windows, and the sign is barely readable from the street.

“An older couple owns both shops,” Mom explains, as we file out of the camper and to the door.

Quin opens it and pulls me inside.

It’s a simple set-up. There’s only one glass display of jewelry and one reclining chair in the back that looks like it was pulled out of a dentist’s office. No employee is working in the studio at the moment, but there is a sign next to a bell that says, “Ring me if you ever want to get pierced.”

Quin dings the bell. “What were you thinking?”

“Three in the right ear,” I say, pointing to my lobe and two spaces right next to it.

“Just your ear?” he asks.

I nod. “A lot of raccoon shifters have their ears pierced all the way up. I was thinking I could have three real piercings for work. Then on the weekends, I could add ten or more magnetic earrings on that same ear, just until I leave the Air Force and I can get them pierced for real. I want it to be obvious that I’m a raccoon shifter.”

“They have other jewelry in the store next door,” Mom says. “If you want rings, bracelets, necklaces, that sort of thing.”

“I do. I want to wear as much jewelry as you,” I tell her.

She smiles. “Okay. I think that will suit you, sweetie.”

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