“Your tattoo,” he says softly. “Why Medusa?” I’d nearly forgotten about the black-and-gray tattoo on my upper back—out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. But the memory comes flooding back, the flash of needles and ink as it was etched into my flesh. That’s exactly what this moment feels like with Silas. A deep burning, faint tugging as the needle penetrates skin. It’s sharp and dull all at once and leaves you with a permanent reminder of the experience.
