So hungry... Must eat...
The whispery voice intruded on the memory, and I frowned at Artist Guy. “Did you say something?”
He didn’t glance up, even as he moved to my other wrist. “Nope.”
Hungry. Hungry! HUNGRY!
I shook my head, as if my mind had somehow locked on a different radio frequency and a little motion would change the channel back. But it didn’t, and I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the vulnerability of Artist Guy’s now-glowing neck.
“Be still,” he commanded.
“I’m sorry. I just... Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That voice. That whisper.”
He paused long enough to dab at a bead of blood with a cotton ball. “Great. The pretty princess is one of the crazies. I should have known.”
Bite him. Feed on him.
“Emma,” I said.
“You want me to add a name?” he asked.
“No.”
My sister appeared a few seconds later. “You’re getting tattoos?” she squealed. Then she saw my face, and the excitement was replaced by concern. “Alice?”
“Something’s wrong with me,” I told her.
“I know.” Artist Guy sighed. “That’s what I just said.”
“Cole?” she asked.
I snapped my teeth, then glanced at Artist Guy, trying to show her what the problem was.
“You want to bite him?”
I nodded.
Frowning, she traced her fingers through my hair, and the urge to bite instantly vanished, thrilling me...baffling me. “I’ll ask around and return when I’ve learned something.”
She disappeared. And maybe I passed out from relief. I don’t know. One moment I was relaxed in my seat; the next Artist Guy was saying, “All right. All done. What do you think?”
I opened my eyes to see he was setting the equipment aside. I waited for the voice or urge to return, but...there was only silence. No hunger. I uttered a quiet prayer of thanks.
He crossed his arms and watched my expression. “Well?”
The ink was perfect, as promised, and exactly what I’d wanted. The white rabbit was on one side, and the daggers on the other. The skin around the ink was red and swollen, though, and throbbed insistently.
“They’re wonderful.”
Grunting with satisfaction, he smothered each with ointment, then covered them with bandages. “Remove the dressing in about an hour and add more ointment. Keep the ink clean, but don’t take long showers or baths for at least two weeks.”
“Okay.”
He ushered me to the front of the building, where Kat and Reeve waited.
Grinning when she spotted me, Kat jumped up and clapped. “Let me see, let me see!”
Reeve stood more slowly, as if she wanted to avoid looking at the tattoos as long as possible.
“Give me a minute to pay,” I said.
The moment we were outside, I peeled back the bandages.
“Very cool! Cole will regret the day he let you get away,” Kat said. As we climbed into Reeve’s Porsche, she added, “I’m making it my life’s mission. Well, that, and torturing Frosty.”
I claimed the center of the backseat and buckled up. “Where are we going now?”
“To Reeve’s. Then you and I are going to Cole’s—uh, house, yes, to his house to work out,” Kat said. “You’re going to train me, as promised. No more treadmilling. And yes, I just turned a noun into a verb.”
“Train you?” Reeve eased the car into traffic. “For what? I mean, I know you guys have been working out a lot, but I’d had no idea there was a purpose to it.”
“Self-defense,” I replied. “Like what I did today.”
Kat nodded. “Only maybe not so hard-core.”
“I promised I’d teach you,” I said, flickers of dread lighting me up, “and I will. Just...not today.” I wanted to go home and wait for Emma.
“Well, I’d like to learn, too,” Reeve said.
“Uh...hmm.” I peered out the window, watching as cars whizzed past. Trees. Power lines. “I’d love to include you, but you’ll have to get permission from your dad first.”
Her brow furrowed. “He’ll say yes.”