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“I don’t know how. I’m not wearing any perfume.” I play off the way his words make me feel funny inside. Like my nerves are butterflies.

“Yeah, well... I like it,” he says and adds the new line.

I’m not sure if he means that I smell like cherries or the new line. Or both. Does it matter when it makes me feel like this?

I don’t know why that memory hit me now of all times. Maybe it’s the sadness inside me that brings it bubbling up. I’ve been too angry lately. Hated him so much. But now that chapter is truly ending, and I’m not sure who I will be when he means nothing to me.

It’s amazing that I’d made that boy my personality. And then made that man my world. Remembering is both sweet and bitter. Mostly bitter these days. I would have loved him forever, but he destroyed us and gave our song away. I should have learned the first time that he would only break my heart. “No cherries. No tattoo for me today.”

“Our lead singer is the one getting a tattoo,” Bronx says.

Kodiak’s arm tightens around me.

We wander into the tattoo shop twenty minutes later. It’s cool inside and smells like antiseptic. The buzz of machines is almost as loud as the music playing to cover it. The woman at the desk wears a tiny red leather dress and is covered in tattoos and facial piercings. She looks ferocious, colorful, and wicked cool. She glances up from a sketch she’s drawing when we walk in.

I approach her first. “I’m looking for a man in a leather jacket. He’ll have his head shoved so far up his own ass—”

“Kelsey, right?” She grins at me.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“You are in for quite a surprise.” She looks over my shoulder. Her eyes widen. Her pupils dilate. I’ve seen this look a million times on the faces of girls when they see these guys.

Bronx steps forward. “Where?”

She admires the ink on his arms before she points the way. “Through the back, behind that curtain. He’s with Felix.”

“Thanks.” I head in the direction of the curtain. “Wait. I should tell you he’s—”

I yank open the curtain and freeze in place.

Riot has his pants down. And a big man with the Blood & Ink logo on the black T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders is bent over him.

Clasping a hand around the base of my throat, I blink to see if what I’m seeing is really happening. “What the hell?”

The artist... Felix... he’s stretching out the skin of Riot’s... cock. Jesus. Good Lord. But I can’t look away as the man starts to ink something along the length of his penis.

“What the fuck, bro?” Bronx hisses as he covers his junk. “I thought you were doing something nice like... her face on your back, or her name in a heart, or cherries or something.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Kodiak groans.

“Trash can. Over there.” Felix points one gloved hand.

Kodiak walks over and picks it up. He holds it in front of him, ready. The color has completely bled from his face.

Rook shuts his eyes. His chest rises and falls slowly. He gives a minute shake of his head as he turns and walks back to the front of the shop.

“Can you shut the damn curtain?” Riot grits his teeth. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead.

“It looks like it really hurts.” I move closer to the bed as Golden closes us in. This is fucking bizarre.

“How are you doing, man?” Felix stops long enough to ask. “Need a break?”

“No. Keep going.” Riot grunts.

As he inks and moves his hand, more of the tattoo becomes visible. It’s writing, clear and precise. Ow... “Owned by...”

“Holy shit.” Bronx grabs at his forehead. “Are you for real, right now?”