Page 48 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness
I didn’t want my body to be fully covered in tattoos, yet I couldn’t help the disappointment that it was already over.
“You’re a masochist, baby,” Kylo whispered, the darkness in his voice matching his eyes as he leaned close. “Rest assured there are endless ways for me to torture you. All you have to do is ask very politely.”
My arm and hip and neck were on fire, coursing with new magick and purpose. I tangled my hands in Kylo’s soft, dark hair. I crushed my lips against his. He tasted like power.
Now it was my turn to devour, for my tongue to explore and conquer and claim.
The future vampire lord of Etherdale wasmine.
16
EVIE
“Open.”
I opened my eyes. In the long, ornate, gold-framed mirror, I saw my hip tattoo for the first time.
My shocked features and Kylo’s grin existed in the periphery as I stared at the art.
“I assure you the ink did more work than I did,” Kylo murmured. “It sort of did its own thing as I drew.”
A serpent was coiled up a beautiful, decorative key adorned with sigils and surrounded by blooming flowers. It was the perfect size—a tasteful amount of complexity extended down my thigh, above my hip bone, and toward the curve of my ass.
“Watch this.”
Kylo gently brushed the raw, aching skin with his fingers.
I inhaled roughly, leaning into him, as the onyx ink came alive. The snake moved, its skin shimmering in iridescent, deep hues of blue and purple like Kylo’s tattoos. The black flowers turned a shade of rosy pink, gently unfurling.
Kylo retracted his hand, and the tattoo shifted back to its inky black stagnancy. Though a touch of shimmering purple hues remained.
I had no words. As deeply devoted as I’d become to Hekate, I had to admit I was nervous to be marked in this way. I liked my body as it was, and I was nervous for it to take a form I didn’t recognize.
But this art wasmein a way that had my eyes brimming with reverent tears. The key and serpent were sacred to Hekate, but the flowers were all mine.
Hekate knew who I was the same as Kylo, protecting me the same as him. My heart swelled with gratitude. She’d been so patient with me as I learned.
I twisted gently , and Kylo handed me a handheld mirror so I could see my back. He lifted my long blonde hair.
“Oh,” I gasped. A burst of surprise laughter escaped my lips, and Kylo couldn’t help but mirror my smile.
It was a rendition of my favorite tarot card, The Star, in a gorgeous, minimalist form. Stars—one larger with seven smaller—twinkled above a nude woman pouring water into a gently flowing stream below. In the water, there were more tiny sigils. The imagery might not be obvious to a non-card-reader. I’d recognized it immediately.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked Kylo.
He brushed his fingers over the art, and the stars lit up with his touch. A shadow coiled up the woman like a snake. The sigils grew darker, and the water became a deep blue hue. When Kylo retracted his hand, the shadow disappeared back into the water’s depths, and the ink returned to static onyx once more.
“A tarot card, right? The Star?”
I was trembling, overcome with watery emotions as the magick and awe enveloped me.
“The Star is number seventeen in the major arcana. It’s the card that directly follows The Tower,” I explained. “The Tower demolishes, but it also liberates. Everything must fall, including all limitations. The Star displays renewed hope, tranquility, andbeauty. It’s a shimmering beginning that can only be accessed after the destruction of all that we once knew.”
“The rebirth that follows death,” Kylo murmured. He kissed my forehead. “I love when you teach me about magick, baby.”
It took enormous effort to peel my gaze off the tarot-inspired tattoo in order to finally admire the underside of my forearm, where an elaborate sigil marked my fair skin—several symbols that overlapped in bold black ink.
These etchings were heavy with magick that was certain, inarguable. This was the mark of the clan, a reminder of my duty and responsibility.
