Free Wicked Ink by Misty Simon

because, at the time, she had been too intent on keeping him alive. Now she wondered how she could have been so stupid and naive.
    “Tell me what’s going on. Now.”
    He opened his mouth, but she raised her hand before he could say anything. “Don’t even think about lying to me. If you’re going to lie, at least tell me that you’d rather not tell me, and I’ll just leave.”
    He peered at her as he walked over to the couch, taking the side opposite Jackson, who was once again sitting. He sat on the very edge, as if spikes were embedded in the back of the cushion. “You’d really walk out right now without an explanation?”
    “Not going to happen, man,” Jackson cut in before Dory could. “You have to tell this lady after all she did for you. And if I’m not mistaken, she resolved your little issue for you today without the chair. I think that’s worth a hell of a lot more than an explanation. You ought to buy her a ring.” He slapped Garrett’s leg as he got up off the couch. “I’m going to head out. I don’t need to be here for this.”
    He turned to Dory, giving her a smile that creased the corners of his bright green eyes. “You make sure to listen, now. This man won’t lie to you, but it’s a bitch getting the full truth out of him sometimes. Don’t leave even if he tries to force you. I think you’re made of much sterner stuff than he realizes.” He brushed his hand down her arm, brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “He’s an idiot, but not a bad one.”
    “For Christ’s sake, Jackson.” Garrett came off the couch, looking ready to pounce.
    One glance from Dory, though, and he sat right back down. “Start talking,” she said as Jackson left the apartment, closing the door behind him.
    His hand made a track down his face. “I really don’t know how to start.”
    “I’m not going to say at the beginning, because I don’t think that’s really what is important. Start with the chair and everything I saw up there and move backward.”
    He blew out a breath. “You’re not asking for a lot.”
    “Yes, I am, but I expect you to give it to me.” She fisted her hands on her hips to keep herself from wrapping them around her ribs. She wanted to project a no-nonsense attitude, not fright.
    “Can you at least sit down? I can’t do this with you towering over me.”
    “At a whopping five foot five, I hardly think I’m towering over you.”
    “Please, Dory. This is hard enough. Just sit.”
    After their gazes locked together for a brief yet intense moment—he looked away first—she stalked over to the small table tucked into the kitchen and brought the lone chair out into the living room. She was so not sitting on the couch with him.
    “Now, talk.”
    “I know this is going to sound weird.”
    “No weirder than seeing you strapped into a chair that was going to electrocute you.”
    “Point for you. I can’t start at the chair, though, because nothing will make any sense if I tell it backward.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I have the ability to soak in darkness and evil from the people around me and use it to make weapons from my tattoos. When I’m done with the darkness, the only way I can purge it is by electrocuting it out of my body. Fighting dark with light.”
    Her mind spun, and she was pretty sure she was about to topple out of the chair despite her death grip on the seat.
    * * *
    “I don’t know how it works precisely, but the tattoos are made from real ink, and they coalesce in my hands to be whatever I need them to be. The weapons all come out black, and they’re as real as anything tangible. I have to absorb them back into myself when I’m done or the tattoo gets ruined. Same thing happens if the tattoo is mangled on my skin. When that happens, I have to go see Lissa, who is not always very nice about having to fix me up, and she has to re-ink the tattoos so I can use them again. But it all comes with a price…” He trailed off when he