Page 33 of Heart Sick Hate

But she’s promised to my brother.

My fingers clench.

Rhett and Echo have nothing in common. She’s too good for that pretentious asshole. And the fact that she doesn’t seem willing to protect herself from the inevitable danger of being with him, makes me that much more inclined to do it for her.

I should have made my move eight years ago when I caught the little Goldilocks putting her paws all over our living room. I hesitated. I watched. I waited. Wondered what our dads’ plans were for her and my brother.

Now I know.

I lick my lips and watch her eyes follow the movement, wondering if she knows I’m still tasting her on my tongue. Feeling her between my lips like she belongs there.

Maybe she’s right, and I’m only doing this because I’m competitive and she’s his. But it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it.

“You need something?” Sage asks when Echo continues to stare at me dumbfounded.

“Uh, yes.” She breaks her gaze, popping a bubble with her gum and rolling her shoulders back.

One of these days I’m going to give that anxious mouth of hers something better to do.

She steps past me, into the room, and drops a piece of paper onto the desk, tracing over the design with her finger and asking Sage how he’d incorporate a dagger into the flowers. It’s a pretty, colorful drawing. Like her. She tattoos with the same energy she radiates.

Leaning forward more, her short shorts ride up to just below her ass, putting those bows on the back of her thighs on full display. I want to sink my teeth into her flesh and mark her like those bows do. Bend her over and imprint myself on her skin.

She’s not fully tatted by any means, but every one is pretty. Flowers, bows, stars. A kaleidoscope of the universe that doesn’t make any sense, while somehow fitting together perfectly. Her skin holds dreams while my ink is demons, serpents, and shit that keeps you up at night.

“Perfect.” Echo pops to standing, a wide smile brightening her cheeks with whatever Sage helped her with.

Not sure why she needs it. Girl’s already massively talented.

Brushing past me, I’m sure she doesn’t miss me checking out her ass in her shorts. But I don’t avert my eyes, and I swear she swings them with a magnetic force that pulls me from the office down the hall to follow her.

“Don’t you have a client?” Echo frowns but doesn’t look at me as I follow her into her room. It’s the brightest one in the shop. Every wall a pop of color.

She stops in front of the purple one and finally looks at me when I don’t answer.

Lavender.

“They’ll wait,” I finally say, scratching the scruff on my jaw.

And they will. People pay ridiculous amounts of money to get tattooed and pierced at Twisted Roses. We might look like a bunch of loser punks, but we know what we’re doing. Drawing is one of the only things I’m good at.

That and giving people concussions.

“About last night—”

“Don’t.” I cut her off.

She frowns. “Don’t what.”

“Don’t start feeling guilty about it.”

Echo twists her toes against the floor as she crosses her arms over her chest. “It was wrong.”

“Is that how it felt?” I challenge her.

She doesn’t answer me. At least, not in words. Her golden eyes avoid me, and she follows the lines on the wood floors instead.

When her gaze dares to lift again, her eyes go wide when she realizes what I’m wearing around my neck. Golden orbs as bright as the California sun in the middle of summer. Warming me up and melting my soul all at once.

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