Grasping the edge of the sketchbook, Marcus studied the design through squinted eyes. “Magnificent,” he allowed. “But it’s too big.” He pinched his finger and thumb together to make a circlet. “No bigger than a silver dollar.” Releasing his hold on the book, he turned and flicked Jon’s bicep hard. “And it goes right there. Two-color. Black and blue. Like a bruise.” Jon rubbed at the spot. “Only prettier,” Marcus added with a carnivorous smile. Two clicks later, Jon’s wrists were secured around the bedpost with the handcuffs and the tattooist was seated, ready to begin.

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Background image courtesy of: Arshad