A few minutes later, I hear a car door shut outside.
“Stay here,” I tell her, then go let Taza in.
Taza’s probably in his early fifties, with long black hair with streaks of gray that he normally leaves down. Today he has it pulled back into a braid that reaches halfway down his back. He has a slim build, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and caramel-colored skin. His great-great-grandparents were full-blooded Cherokee Indian.
“Thanks for coming on short notice,” I say as I let him in the door.
He shrugs his slender shoulders. “Didn’t have much going on anyway.”
He follows me into the kitchen, carrying a couple of medical bags. Rella’s across the room, leaning against the counter, chewing on her thumbnail. Her face pales when she sees Taza, and her eyes flash to me.
I walk over and stand in front of her so she can’t see him anymore. “Hey, look at me,” I say gently, pulling her thumb from her mouth. I silently curse when I see she’s bitten it down to the quick and it’s bleeding.
Her eyes slide to me, and apprehension darkens the normally bright green.
“There’s something I want to try, if you’ll let us.”
“What?”
My chest spasms at the quiver in her voice.
I jerk my head behind me. “That’s Taza.” I let her hand go and pull up my sleeve, revealing tattooed and scarred skin. “He’s done every one of my tattoos. I met him when I was sixteen in Kentucky, and I brought him here a year after we came to live here.”
She frowns, a wrinkle forming between her eyes. “He did all your tattoos?”
“Yes. He’s the only one I trust to do them.”
“Okay.”
I can feel the tremors coming off her body. I blow out a long breath and try my best to put what I’m thinking into words.
“Pain has always been a big part of my life. Physical pain from my father and emotional pain from what I did to you. After the raid when I was away from my father, I still needed it. It was the only thing that helped quiet the demons in my head enough to keep me relatively grounded.” I look down at the multitude of scars on my arms. “One day, Trouble suggested I start getting tattoos. I’d still get my fix of pain, but it would leave pictures behind instead of scars.”
Rella traces one of the smooth and even scars hidden beneath the ink, then moves to a jagged one. “But you still cut yourself. Using the key.”
I nod. “I don’t have much skin left that isn’t inked over. Some of these are designs on top of designs. In the beginning, I would use a razor blade.” I watch her eyes closely. “Like you. But even so, before and after my body was covered in ink, it still wasn’t enough. Sometimes it was, but other times, when the darkness in me was too great, I still resorted to slicing into my skin with a razor blade. When the key came into my possession, I changed my weapon of choice. The key holds a lot of meaning to me. It’s both my penance and my redemption.”
Tears glisten in her eyes. The last thing I want to do is upset her.
“The point I’m trying to make is, maybe you can alleviate your need for pain with tattoos. They still hurt like a bitch, but you can leave something beautiful behind.”
She chews her bottom lip, her eyes flickering back and forth between mine as she thinks over my suggestion. Her gaze moves beyond my shoulder to where I hear Taza unloading his equipment on the kitchen table.
“I don’t know,” she whispers and slides her eyes back to me. She leans closer, as if she doesn’t want Taza to hear what she’s saying. “I don’t think I’ll be able to let him touch me.”
The thought of Taza touching her makes me insane too, but I’ll live through it if it helps Rella.
“I’ll be right there with you the whole time. If it ever gets to be too much, we can always stop and try again another time. But I really think this could help.”
It takes her several long seconds, in which her expression changes from one emotion to another, to another, before she nods slowly. “I’ll try.”
An indescribable and powerful need to lean down and kiss her hits me all of a sudden. It’s a craving I’ve never felt before. It’s so strong it damn near brings me to my knees. It’s also something I need to shove to the very depths of my soul.
So, that’s what I do. I push away my wants and turn to the table. Taza has all of his equipment out and is setting little bottles of ink on the table beside it all. He doesn’t have a shop in Malus. He prefers to conduct business out of his house. However, anytime I need ink done, he comes here.
I grab Rella’s hand and bring her over to the table. She doesn’t look at Taza, instead focusing on everything on the table.
“Rella, this is Taza,” I introduce the two.