XVIII

RAINA

There’s an air of rebellion I feel every time I step inside Tattoo Heaven.

Come in and get inked by an angel or a demon. Angel always brags that his wife, Avery, must have sold her soul to be such a damned good artist. The way he looks at her with love in his eyes reminds me of the way I feel when Rex can’t keep his eyes or hands off me.

Angel’s not as tall as Rex, but he’s stocky and covered in ink. Avery has two sleeves of artwork that she displays regularly. The glass display case that separates the waiting area from the rest of the shop is now sitting in front of a temporary partition. The accordion-looking paper wall typically goes up whenever someone has an appointment to get a sensitive body part worked on.

“Hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Avery asks, her snowflake tattoo beaming in the morning sunlight shining through the window. “I thought you were getting out of town for a few days.”

“Owen had other plans that made us rethink that. Rex is running around a bit, bu