Angel slaps a hand over her heart. “That’s gorgeous. Aria, you’re so talented.”
Luna peers over Sophie's shoulder. "That's not just good, that's professional quality."
"It is," I agree, feeling a surge of pride. "Let's get it transferred to your skin, Sophie, and we can start inking."
Sophie nods eagerly, and I begin setting up my station. As I prep the stencil from Aria's design, an idea forms.
"Aria," I say, turning back to her. "Want to try your hand at tattooing?"
Chapter 6
Aria
I don’t remember my father. I remember only bits and pieces of my mother, a mishmash of scenes like a movie trailer. Little snippets. I was only seven when I went to live with Uncle Vincent, my mom’s brother.
I don’t think he liked children very much.
He wasn’t abusive per se. He never hit me. He basically treated me like I was furniture or wallpaper. The first few years I would try to engage him in conversation. He would either grunt, ignore me outright, or tell me in an exasperated tone that he was busy and did not want to be disturbed with my nonsense.
I was lonely.
He insisted I be schooled online, and never allowed me to go anywhere where I could meet people or interact with kids my age.
Most of my life, I’ve been so desperately lonely.
It was only last month that he gave permission for me to attend local art classes.
When my uncle first told me that I was to be married, I was in shock.
Married?I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I’ve read books and seen movies, and I’ve been dying to kiss, to make out, and even to go all the way with a boy.
Then, after the shock of his announcement died down, I have to admit, I was excited. I would have a husband to dote on, one who I could converse with, who would hold my hand. We could watch movies and TV shows together, maybe even go out somewhere—like to the theater or to dinner.
When I learned I was to marry Marco, a man thirty years older than me, my excitement fizzled.
I wasn’t all that worried about our age difference. No, it was the way he’d always looked at me that creeped me out. From the time I was a child, whenever he came over, Marco always had this creepy look in his eyes. I remember him leering at me when I was only eight years old, like he wanted to devour me whole.
Still, my loneliness was suffocating, and I owed my uncle for caring for me for all those years. I was willing to suck it up and do what I was told.
Until Marco got mean.
"Want to try your hand at tattooing?" Hawk's voice carries a challenge wrapped in a question, his penetrating gaze locked on mine.
My heart leaps into my throat. "Me? Tattoo an actual person?" I glance between him and Sophie, who's sitting in the chair, already prepped with the stencil of my design transferred to her skin. "I've never even held a tattoo gun.”
Sophie wiggles excitedly in the chair. "I trust you. Go ahead. I’ll be your guinea pig."
Hawk shrugs. “You designed it.” He moves to stand beside me. "It's only right you get to put part of it on her skin."
My fingers tremble slightly as I look at the delicate dagger design. The idea of permanently marking someone's body terrifies and thrills me simultaneously.
"What if I mess up?"
Hawk's hand comes to rest at the small of my back, a gentle pressure that somehow steadies me. "You won't. I'll guide you through the easy parts, then take over for the detail work."
"I'd be honored if you did it," Sophie adds, her blue eyes bright with sincerity.
"Okay." I nod, swallowing hard. "I'll try."
