I frown. “What are you two talking about?”
“I vote yes,” a familiar voice says, and Asher appears behind Zane. I didn’t even hear the door chimes.
Dylan is with him. “Fine by me,” he says and shoves purple-tipped bangs out of his face.
Slowly and deliberately I get up and fold my arms over my chest. I won’t say I look down at them from my six foot two—they’re all big guys. I swear Asher must still be growing because he’s almost my height, and the others are easily six foot tall, all of them. But I feel better standing, staring them in the face, than sitting down while they’re obviously discussing me.
“Care to explain?” I finally grind out when they mimic my stance, folding their arms and lifting their chins.
“We think you need a new tattoo,” Zane says.
“I don’t want more ink. Told you.”
“Didn’t say you wanted. Said you needed one, fucker.”
I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw. What the hell is he talking about? “I said no.”
“It’s a symbol,” Asher says quietly. He shrugs his jacket off, then pulls off his sweater and shirt. The hell?
I blink. He has a big black dragon inked on his chest and shoulder. He didn’t have this four years ago, when I left.
Then again, back then I had no ink either, and look at me now.
“Symbol for what?”
“Survival,” Zane says. “We each have a dragon inked on us, to remind us of it.”
“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger and all that bullshit?” I drawl, a bit confused and annoyed by it.
“What doesn’t kill me can kiss my ass,” Rafe mutters, and I stifle a snort.
“It’s a brotherhood, motherfucker.” Zane advances on me and pushes me a step back. “We are brothers. Pain has made us so. We stand by each other. Pull each other up when we fall. We are the family we never had. Are you in?”
My gaze passes from Asher to Rafe to Dylan and back to Zane. “Are you serious?”
“Damn right I am. You need that ink. Because you’re family.”
I let my hands drop to my sides. I’m familiar with the sting of the tattoo gun. I’m familiar with pain in many forms. That doesn’t frighten me. But this is more than that. It’s not about covering my scar. It’s about showing everyone who I am and where I belong.
Asher nods at me, and I tip my head.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’m in.”
“Fucking awesome,” Zane mutters, his face splitting in a grin. “Five’s a good number. We’ll be the five musketeers, or something.”
“The musketeers were three, plus D’Artagnan, four,” Rafe says.
“And who gives a fuck?” Zane shrugs. “Welcome to the brotherhood, Tyler.”
The others gather around, clapping me on the back, and it strikes me that I’ve gone from having no one in the world, no one to care if I was found dead on the street one day, to having such a damn big family.
I ruffle Asher’s hair like I used to do when he was a kid, and he knocks my hand away.
“Take him in,” he says, and suddenly I’m airborne, lifted off the ground on three pairs of strong arms.
“Fuck.” I struggle as I’m carried toward the booths.
“Stop fighting it,” Asher says, following us as I’m carried into an empty booth and deposited on a chair. “You’re one of us.”
“I’m not fighting it.”
“Are you sure?” Zane lifts a dark brow.
“Yeah.” I pull my shirt off, exposing my scars and my ink. I’ve got nothing to hide anymore.
“This ink will be badass,” Zane announces, grabbing the tattoo gun and baring his teeth. “All for one, and one for all, fuckers.”
***
It’s late when I ring Erin’s bell, and I hope I’m not waking her up. She said I should just come over when I’m done with work, but the tattoo took time, and it’s now closer to midnight.
The lock clicks off, and she opens the door, dressed in my favorite tiny shorts and see-through white blouse. She smiles.
My blood beats faster as I step inside, running hot under my skin. It feels like weeks since I’ve been with her, and with Jax here, we barely even kissed.
Now it’s just us and as her subtle candy scent reaches my senses, I can’t think of anything else but kissing her, tasting her, taking her.
She steps back and I follow her, shrugging off my jacket and pulling off my sweater. I catch up in two strides and press her against the wall, my hands landing on either side of her face, framing it. My mouth crashes on hers, and my tongue plunges deep as I mold my hard body to her softer one. My inked stomach stings, but I ignore it. Her nipples tighten, biting into my chest, and she gasps in my mouth.