Part 23 (1/2)

He kissed the corner of her mouth tenderly. ”Let me call him, and we'll go right away.”

The tattoo parlor just outside the French Quarter resembled an upscale beauty salon more than an ink shop. Lots of soft overhead lighting, chrome, gla.s.s and green ferns in potted planters. Tasteful charcoal sketches of dragons, werewolves and fairies adorned the powder-blue walls.

”All Indigo's art,” Damian said, as she looked around. ”He's very talented.”

The woman behind the gla.s.s-and-chrome desk looked up from her computer. She beamed. ”Go in the back, he's expecting you.”

Sweat blossomed on her forehead as they entered the room. In the center was a examination table covered with a clean white cloth, arranged so the person could sit upright. A large gooseneck floor lamp and backless stool stood beside it. Metal shelving held bottles of ink, instruments, and the black counters were spotless. A small sink was in one corner, with a soap dispenser and paper towels. Very clean and orderly. She relaxed a little.

Indigo came out from behind a curtain, and smiled. He nodded his head in a gesture of respect.

Damian thrust out a hand, which Indigo shook very briefly as if fearing some offense. ”Thanks for doing this, frere. Appreciate the short notice.”

Jamie's gaze dropped to the small steel tray holding an a.s.sortment of thimble-size cups with ink, the mechanical needle. Like a dentist's drill. Her heart pounded so loudly it sounded like it would slam out of her chest.

Damian regarded her with his steady gaze. You all right? he spoke gently into her mind. Are you certain?

I have to do this, she told him telepathically.

Indigo sat on the stool. ”What would you like, Jamie?”

She went to the big male, reached up on tiptoe even though he sat, and whispered into his ear.

Surprise and pleasure flashed on his face. Indigo nodded. ”Definitely,” he said in his thick Cajun accent. ”I'll do a sketch first. Then draw it on your skin so I have an outline to follow.”

While he drew on tracing paper, she sat beside Damian, examining the sample book. The artwork was astounding, playful and leaped off the page.

”Ready over here.” Paper rustled.

She drew off her sweater, placed it on a chair. Jamie unb.u.t.toned her jeans, s.h.i.+mmied them and her underwear down past her hips.

Indigo snapped on a pair of sterile gloves, the sound sharp as gunfire. She sat on the table, resting her face against it. A shudder stroked her spine, but she forced herself to lie still.

Damian pulled up a chair to her side, clutched her hand. Sensations flooded her: Damian's delicious scent, the feel of paper against her lower back as Indigo traced his drawing, the iron taste of fear in her mouth. Jamie gritted her teeth as the burning began, as if someone pressed a hot iron against her skin. The needle's whir roared in her ears.

She dimly heard Damian murmuring soothing words. Her eyes closed as she focused on his deep voice. Finally the buzzing stopped.

”He's done, ma pet.i.te.”

Jamie's eyes flew open. She sat up, wincing, and stared into the mirror Damian held up, reflecting into the larger one Indigo held at her backside.

”Oh, it's beautiful, so majestic and proud. Thank you!” She beamed at him.

Indigo flashed her a shy smile, nodded at Damian and left the room.

Her lover's jaw dropped as he walked behind her, stared at the tattoo. An exact replica of Damian as wolf, green eyes sharp and intelligent, his gray carriage straight and proud as he gazed into the distance. Like a king surveying his domain.

He came back, squatted down until he was eye level. ”Jamie, why me?”

She stroked his cheek with one finger. ”I needed something beautiful and n.o.ble to cover the ugliness. Now I bear your mark, and everyone will know I'm one of your family, your pack. I'm yours, always.”

Emotion flashed in his eyes. Damian pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. ”And I am yours, toujours.”

His cell rang. Damian flipped it open. ”We'll be there in ten.” He thumbed the phone off, looking at her with a wide smile.

”Alexandre found the last clue. He's at Rafe's house, waiting for us.”

Chapter 16.

I n the formal living room, Alexandre, Raphael, Gabriel and Etienne waited for them. Seeing their expressions, Jamie clutched Damian's hand. Something was very, very wrong.

The painting of a wolf standing by a cabin in the bayou rested on the c.o.c.ktail table.

”What took you this long?” Damian demanded.

”I actually found the clue yesterday.” Alexandre exchanged glances with his brothers, his expression as foreboding as an executioner's. ”We met, and decided...it was best to keep the news from you, and not spoil Jamie's party. We wanted her, and you, to enjoy the time together.”

Fear unfurled in her heart. This was going to be bad. Damian gave her hand a comforting squeeze, but she couldn't stop trembling.

”When I separated the canvas from the frame, I found this.”

Alexandre handed Damian a small piece of wood with a tiny carving of a heart. He dropped her hand, took and sniffed the bark.

”Cypress.” Damian's fingers trailed over the wood. ”I recognize the scent. He hid the book in the old bayou. My father said the tree represented the heart of the Draicon because it stood so long and so proud, and thrived best in the wild.”

He set the bark down quietly. His jaw tightened; his eyes were distant.

Excitement bubbled inside Jamie. It couldn't be that bad. True, a bayou was a large place, but they were Draicon and their excellent sense of scent could track it down. The book was within her grasp. She felt death take a few steps backward, hovering, but no longer an in-your-face reality.

Damian braced his hands on the table, hung his head. Alexandre stared at the wide oak floorboards, refusing to meet her gaze. Despair etched Gabriel's face. Raphael and Etienne both dropped a hand on Damian's shoulder.

A blast of frigid air draped the room, as if death decided to come nosing back again.

”What is it? We're close now, it's in the bayou where your father hunted...So let's go, it's almost nightfall...We can bring lanterns and flashlights....”

Damian lifted his head. Jamie reeled back at the utter desolation in his eyes. It was like glimpsing h.e.l.l.

”That bayou no longer exists. They filled it in and developed houses years ago. The book lies beneath pavement and rock.”

Hope snapped on a thin thread. Jamie staggered to the nearest chair and sat, burying her face in her hands. Cold sweat gathered in the waistband of her jeans.

Years of ancient knowledge were lost. She was going to die.

Night descended with a sweep of gold shadows. A wolf caged by a Creole mansion, Damian paced, shoving a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Jamie was upstairs, resting.

He was alone in his misery.