One of those reasons was that Darien wasn’t wearing a shirt again; the sight of his bare upper body had her blushing tomato-red. He had more tattoos than the numerals on his knuckles and the mark of the Devils below his ear; along with the full sleeves on both of his arms, he had a back-piece of detailed black flames that swept across his broad shoulders and down to his hips, the fire encasing a hauntingly beautiful masterpiece of the monstrous, three-headed watchdog of hell.
