Dead Ink(Karma Series Book 4)(6)

"When you went through the transition, in order to exist here, your core  self goes through a slight transition. There are a lot of similarities  and you might feel mortal but you aren't. You won't age; you'll start  hearing and seeing better. You'll be able to move quicker. Imagine it  like you were wrapped in bubble wrap and that layer has been shed."

"That doesn't sound bad."

"There is a downside. If this form gets injured, there's nothing left of  you to move on from here. Also, if I put this tattoo on you, your soul,  or whatever you want to call what you are now, won't be connected to  whatever lies beyond this dimension. Heaven or hell, reincarnation-this  is it. On the plus side, staying around here isn't the worst thing ever.  You'll never grow old, never get sick. There are perks to living  forever."

Faith thought about the ramifications of what he was saying. "And if I don't do this?"

"Depends on what you do when Malokin catches up to you. If he does, and  you aren't willing to play his game like you say, you'll end up finished  anyway."

After that explanation, there was no choice. "Let's do it," she said and  then paused. "But a tattoo? Is it like magic or something?" She knew  she sounded skeptical, but come on. A magic tattoo? In spite of  everything she'd just gone through, she felt a giggle coming on. Or  maybe it was nervous laughter.

He raised his eyebrows as if to suggest her question was the ridiculous thing, not the tattoo. "What color are your eyes?"

"What? Brown," she replied, not even thinking of the question.

"They're bluish green." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "How tall are you?"

She shook her head. She used to be about five foot six. It hit her hard that she had no idea how tall she was now.

"Without measuring, I'd say a couple inches over five feet." He huffed. "This is the problem with all you transfers."

"Transfers?"

"Former humans. You were stabbed to death but yet you're sitting here in  my tattoo shop and have the nerve to question if maybe magic exists."

The guy had a point, and suddenly the tattoo seemed a little more  legitimate. "Okay." She nodded. "What do I need to do?" She didn't know  if trusting him was the most idiotic thing she'd ever do but it wasn't  like there was a line of knights behind him waiting to ride to her  rescue. This tattooed man and his scary looking friends were option one,  two and infinity.

"Nothing but decide what couple of square inches of flesh you want to  sacrifice to my tattoo gun and lie over there." He pointed to a padded  bench across the room. The guys standing just beyond it, watching her,  drew her attention.

"I told you, don't worry about them," Lars said in a soft voice but sounded almost angry about saying it. Weird man.

She nodded and forced herself to stop looking in their direction.

Lars waved his hand impatiently toward the bench again and she took a deep breath, stood up and headed toward it.

"If this is under control, I'm out of here," Fate said. "The Jinxes are on watch and I can't keep those little bastards sober."                       
       
           



       

Lars waved him on and turned to one of the other guys. "Angus, can you go get us some subs or something?"

Food. Faith's mouth watered thinking of a sub sandwich but she didn't  say anything; she just headed to the bench. She didn't have a penny to  her name. Her clothes, dirty and bedraggled, weren't even her own. Her  pride could only take so much begging. She wasn't going to ask for  anything else. It was bad enough she'd shown up like she had.

"Yeah, cause it's that easy to go shopping these days, with all the stores closing," Angus complained.

"We'll go with him," Bic, the shaved head guy said as he patted the  other guy on the back. "I know a place down the street that's still  open. Come on." The three of them left the shop while Faith was still  digesting what they'd said. Had the world deteriorated that much in the  past week?

Once the sickness had passed, she'd made her way here mostly through the  wooded areas. She been so consumed with her own issues that she hadn't  paid much attention to anything else. Now that she thought back, there  had been an awful lot of businesses boarded up and the streets had  seemed eerily empty. But it was a coastal town. She'd thought a storm  was heading in or something.

"What's happening out there, it's because of this guy, Malokin?"

"We aren't sure, but we suspect so. We just know that a lot of humans  are getting violent and it started the same time he showed up." He  pointed to the bench. "Come on. This needs to be done sooner rather than  later."

"Can you put it on my back?" she asked, lying down on her stomach,  deciding to let him put the tattoo somewhere she wouldn't see, not sure  she'd want a daily reminder staring at her in the mirror if she ever dug  her way out of this mess.

How had things gone from so perfect to this in a week's time? Why didn't  catastrophes ever come with warnings? She got up one day, thinking  everything was perfect, to have it all torn apart in a moment. It was as  if we all lived in a house of cards and at any second a strong breeze  could blow it to pieces. And somehow, when our cards were all strewn  about in a mess, we were shocked it happened.

She'd opened up an art gallery a year ago, and it was doing so well she  was considering opening another. She had a great group of friends, had  even gone out with a nice guy last week, who she was making plans to see  again. Now look at her. Dead at twenty-eight, a no-named face running  from one psychopath who made people crazy, and another one she feared  even mentioning, all while sleeping in the forest, picking bugs out of  her hair when she woke.





Chapter Five





Lars sat in his chair beside her. He moved his portable table into place  with the special ink. No one touched that ink, not even the guys.

Faith was stretched out on the bench in front of him, hair knotted on  top of her head, clothes filthy, and yet he felt his dick getting hard.  She was a mess. Didn't even smell good. She wasn't anywhere near the way  he liked his women-how most men liked them; clean, with maybe a touch  of perfume and a cute outfit. No, she was filthy and smelled like the  forest, and not the part where wildflowers grew.

So why was he fighting off an erection, the likes of which he hadn't had in years? Shit. What the hell was wrong with him?

He needed to get his head together.

"Is here good?" he asked as his fingers grazed the exposed skin on her  lower spine. And the next thing that popped into his head was tugging  down the snug pants she was wearing, grabbing her small waist and  arching her hips up so he could thrust himself deep within her, pumping  into her until he heard her sweet voice moaning and calling out his name  as she came.

"I don't care as long as I can't see it," she said, and instead of  thinking of her words, he thought of what she'd sound like moaning  beneath him or how many times he could make her come. How hard he would  come inside her.

Maybe if he concentrated on the tattoo he could get past whatever this  sudden and powerful attraction was. After all the women he'd had, he'd  thought he was immune to getting this worked up over one.

He shook his head and leaned forward again. He pushed her shirt up a  little more, to give himself more clearance. She raised her hips  slightly to let it slide easier.

Her skin was unblemished perfection, the dent of her spine running up  the center of her back. Her curves were smooth, dipping from a tiny  waist before swelling with her hips to a perfect ass, not too skinny and  not too big. All he could think about was grabbing her with both hands  and setting her down on his cock.                       
       
           



       

He leaned back in his seat, away from her, and tried to clear his  thoughts before his body followed the actions in his mind. When that  didn't work, he stood abruptly. "I'll be right back. I need another  color. Don't touch anything."

He was already halfway to his office when he heard her say okay. He shut  the door, not caring that he'd just left her alone. It was better than  the alternative of some serious togetherness. What was wrong with him?  Maybe there was some sort of spell on her?

He dug out his phone quickly and dialed Angus. If anyone would know, it  would be him. No one discussed what he used to do for the Universe but  once you're the Evil Eye, you don't forget that shit.

"What's up?" Angus said.

"Before I start the tattoo, I just wanted to make sure you didn't pick  up on any other magic coming off her. You know, anything. A curse or  spell, no matter how slight, could react strangely with the tattoo."