Mine. The thought, the need, the reaction were overpowering. Her stomach clenched. She pulled her gaze away, and then forced herself to keep looking. She looked at the other tattoos, but her attention returned to that image as if compelled by it. That one's mine. For a moment, some trick of light made it look as if one of the eyes in the image winked. She ran her finger over the page, feeling the slick-smooth plastic sheet covering it, imagining the feel of those wings wrapped around her—somehow jagged and velvety all at once. She looked up at Rabbit. "This one. I need this one."

A strange series of expressions came over Rabbit, as if he weren't sure if he should be surprised, pleased, or terrified. He took the book and closed it. "Why don't you think about it for a few days—"

"No." She put a hand on his wrist. "I am sure. I'm past ready, and this image … If it'd been on the wall, I'd already have it on me." She shivered, not liking the idea of anyone else having her tattoo—and it was hers. She knew it. "Please."

"It's a one-time-only tattoo. If you get it, no one else can, but" — he stared at the wall behind her—"it'll change you, change things."

"All tattoos change people." She tried to keep her voice even, but she felt frustrated by his hesitation. He'd been stalling for weeks. This was her tattoo, right there within reach.

Studiously avoiding her gaze, Rabbit slid the book into its drawer. "Those things you were looking for … those changes … you need to be absolutely positive those are the ones you want."

"I am." She tried to get him to look at her, bending down so her face was closer to his.

Ani poked her head in the doorway. "She pick one?"

Rabbit ignored her. "Tell me what you thought when you picked it. Were there any others that… called to you?"

Leslie shook her head. "No. Just that one. I want it. Soon. Now."

And she did. It felt like she was looking at a banquet and realizing she hadn't ever eaten, like a craving that she needed to fill immediately.

After another long look, he pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. "So be it."

Leslie turned to Ani. "It's perfect. It's a chaos star and knotwork with these amazing eyes and shadow wings."

Ani took one look at Rabbit—who nodded—and then she whistled. "You're stronger than I thought. Wait till Tish hears." She left, calling out, "Tish? Guess which one Leslie picked."

"No shit?" Tish's shriek made Rabbit close his eyes.

Shaking her head, Leslie told Rabbit, "You realize that you're all being über-weird, even for people who live at a tattoo shop."

Instead of acknowledging her remark, Rabbit brushed her hair back tenderly like he did with his own sisters'. "I'll need a couple days to get the right ink for this one. You can change your mind."

"I won't." She felt the unnatural urge to squeal like Tish had. Soon, she'd have it, the perfect ink. "Let's talk price."

Niall watched Leslie walk out of Pins and Needles. When she walked through the city, she moved with her shoulders squared, pace steady. It was at odds with the fears he knew hid inside her. Today, though, her confidence seemed almost real.

He stepped closer, pushing off the redbrick wall where he'd been leaning while she was in the tattoo shop. As she paused to survey the shadows in the street, Niall brushed his fingers over a lock of her hair that'd fallen forward over her cheek. Her hair—almost as wood brown as his own— wasn't long enough to tie back or short enough to stay back on its own, just right to be intriguing.

Like she is.

His fingers barely grazed her cheek, not enough for her to react. He leaned closer so he could smell her skin. Before work, she had a lavender scent, not perfume, but the shampoo she favored lately. "What are you doing out alone again? You know better."

She didn't answer him. She never did: mortals didn't see faeries, didn't hear them—especially mortals the Summer Queen had insisted be kept unaware of the Faery Courts.

Initially, at his king's request, Niall had taken a few of the shifts guarding Leslie. When she was unaware, he could walk beside her and talk to her as he couldn't when he was visible to her. The way the mortal girl looked at him—like he was better than he'd ever been, like he was attractive because of who he was, not because of his role in the Summer Court—was a heady thing, too much so, in truth.

If his queen hadn't asked it, Niall still would've wanted to keep Leslie safe. But Aislinn did order it. Unlike Leslie, when Aislinn had been mortal, she'd seen the ugliness of the faery world. Since becoming the Summer Queen she'd worked to find a balance with the equally new Winter Queen. It didn't leave a lot of time for keeping her mortal friends safe, but it did give her the power to order faeries to assure the mortals' safety. Such a task would not normally be handled by a court advisor, but Niall had been more family than mere advisor to the Summer King for centuries. Keenan suggested that Aislinn would feel better knowing that her closest friends' safety was under the direction of a faery she trusted.

Although it had been only a few shifts at first, more and more, Niall took extra duty watching over her. He hadn't done so with the others, but they didn't fascinate him as Leslie did. Leslie vacillated between vulnerable and bold, fierce and frightened. Once, when he had collected mortals for playthings, she would've been irresistible, but he was stronger now.