Page 92 of His Hell Girl

His eyes sparkle with joy and he looks like he's won the lotto as he starts preparing the equipment.

I watch him amused, once again surprised to see how little it takes to make him happy. And as I look at his carefree smile, it dawns on me that his happiness has always been contingent on makingmehappy.

Whenever he's done something to please me, he's been pleased with himself too, and the realization warms me even more.

I can't help myself as I reach out, fitting my palm to his cheek. He looks startled, but immediately gifts me a gorgeous smile as he places a kiss in the center of my palm.

"You're so good to me, Vlad." I tell him, fighting back tears.

There's something infinitely special about him and the way he treats me, his love boundless.

"No. You're good to me, Sisi," he replies, holding my hand close to his face. "You make me happiest," he simply says.

My heartbeats accelerate and I feel a tingle in my lower belly.

Butterflies. He makes me feel butterflies in my stomach.

His entire presence makes me so giddy, my body is no longer my own when he is around.

"I love that you thought about this," I add as I see him test the tattoo gun, "but do you know how to tattoo?"

His gesture may be sweet, but I have to wonder about his artistic prowess. In all the time we'd spent together, he'd never once mentioned a passion for it, or even better, a talent.

He stills, raising his eyes to look at me. Pursing his lips, he's quiet for a second, and I almost groan out loud.

"I don'tnotknow how to tattoo," he answers, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Vlad!" My eyes widen at him and I swat him playfully. "You're not just thinking of doodling on my skin, are you?"

"Would that be so bad?" He shrugs, and my mouth hangs open in shock. I don't know whether to be scandalized or impressed by him. Sure, it's the thought that counts, but am I actually considering letting him do this?

"You're joking, right?"

"Relax," he catches my hand, holding it tight in his own. "I've had enough experience over the years with my own tattoos. Who do you think filled them in or continued some of the designs?" he more or less rips the shirt off his torso, pointing to several designs.

"See, I did this," he declares proudly.

I squint to make out the shapes, and I nod appreciatively.

"I didn't realize you had a knack for drawing," I comment as I trace the intricate forms on his chest. "Wait," I still, my finger on top of the triangle on his chest. "You added this?" I ask and he nods.

"I like to tweak the designs every now and then. But this was the first time I altered the meaning of the original ensemble."

"I love it," I tell him sincerely.

"Now let's see what you want." His enthusiasm is infectious as we start going over potential designs and concepts.

"I want one on the cross here," I point to the ugly scar on top of my breast, "and one here," I move my hand up to my neck, to the scar he'd given me months ago.

He blinks, his eyes focused on that spot as he swallows deeply.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again, eyes closed, a look of pure agony on his face. "I don't think I'll ever be able to make it up to you for that… or anything." He sighs, his features forlorn as he looks anywhere but at me.

"Vlad," I tip his head up, "we need to move on. We're here now, and stronger togetherbecauseof that incident. Please stop torturing yourself with it. I told you." I take a deep breath, wanting him to see the sincerity in my eyes. "I forgive you."

"Thank you," he says earnestly, and I gift him a smile.

"Here," I point to my neck, "I want a V."

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