carving the name of my deepest desire into my flesh. I sucked in a sharp breath as the dagger slit through my skin, the pain sharpening my thoughts as the tequila tried to offer me a way out with a little dizziness. It hurt like a bitch, but I told myself it could have been worse as I continued to carve his name into my skin. He could have had a longer name, like Bartholomew or Constantine.
