Page 8 of Blood & Claw

The arrow would be perfect, Ailsa thought. She’d been brought up in this shop and had once played with her poppets and wooden blocks on the floor while Kayla worked—as such, she knew the meanings of all the marks and motifs tattooists used. For years, she’d merely listened and watched. And then, when she’d entered her fifteenth summer, Kayla had taken her on as an apprentice.

Seven years on, she was still an apprentice. Aye, Kayla let her ink designs on their daytime customers, but she hadn’t yet let her weave earth magic into tattoos unassisted. It was just another of the frustrations Ailsa felt these days. It was as if her mentor kept her on a short leash.

Kayla had given Ailsa a special tattoo of her own though. It was a small red rose on her right calf: the mark helped her summon earth magic and channel it into her work. And she’d shown her how to use it. However, Kayla still wouldn’t let her work alone.

“It’s for your own good,” she’d said. “I’ll tell you when you’re ready to weave earth magic into tattoos without my guidance.”

Ailsa was running out of patience.

Not just for that—but for everything.

“Ailsa.” Kayla’s voice intruded on her brooding.

She glanced up, realizing that she’d halted halfway between the bench and the table, and still clutched the tools and dye.

“Are you bringing them over here, lass?”

Ailsa nodded, moving forward and placing the items on the table at her mentor’s elbow.

Kayla’s gaze roamed over her face. “What’s up with you, this eve?” she murmured.

Ailsa met her eye. “I need to talk to you,” she said firmly. “Later.”

She caught that familiar narrowing of Kayla’s eyes, the tightening around her mouth. She didn’t want another fight.

Ailsa stared her down, making it clear that, like it or not, she’d be getting one.

Favoring her with a curt nod, Kayla then cut her gaze away and met the customer’s eye. “An arrow then,” she said briskly. “Show me your hand.”

He placed it on the table between them. It was big and scarred, with dirty fingernails that needed clipping.

Kayla ran a finger over the skin, prodding and examining. “You do realize a mark on the back of the hand hurts more than most?” He grunted, yet undaunted, the tattooist continued. “The skin is thinner here, and it’s nearer bones and tendons.”

“Just get on with it, woman.”

Kayla shrugged, unfazed by his rudeness, even as heat started to pulse in Ailsa’s belly.

This bastard needed reminding of his manners.

The heat intensified, sweeping over her before she caught herself.

Leash it.

Her pulse leaped. Gods. She’d thought she was in control of herself these days. Had her encounter with Lewis earlier in the day rattled her that badly?

Oblivious to her struggle, Kayla picked up her bone needle and began to hum. It was a low, monotonous sound, one she’d honed as a sacrificer many years earlier. Then, leaning over his hand, she made her first incision.

“Fuck!” the man hissed.

Kayla glanced up, an eyebrow lifting. “I did warn you.”

He scowled back. “Aye, well … get me some strong wine.”

“Will ale do?”

He shook his head. “Not with you digging that Gods-damned needle into me.”

Ailsa stiffened. Demanding arse. Did he think he was sitting in an ale-hall?