Intimately Inked [manxman]

Chapter Five

**TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF SELF-HARM**

Paint effortlessly glided from my brush to the canvas. Fat red lines dominated the surface in anger and anguish. When I sat down to start the piece, I hadn't had any real idea of what I'd do. I had just finished up my last appointment for the day a little early, and I had twenty minutes before I needed to pick Blaine up from dance class.

So, I decided to paint.

Ever since the girls' playdate Saturday, I felt like I'd been stuck in a past headspace. Everything felt foreign and unreal, and everytime I had a second, I drifted into old memories I released years ago. The discussion Seb and I had, exposing our pasts, it opened up a can of worms I'd had a tight lid on. I probably would've made it out unscathed too, but...

"We should just leave him!" Aurora snapped. "You know they're gonna kill him anyway."

"Not if we give him a chance to get out."

"If they found out we did that--"

"They wouldn't know, not unless you told them."

Aurora sighed. "Just sit your ass down so I can heal you."

"No. You aren't doing anything to me until you treat him," I said, glancing at the unconscious man bleeding out next to us. We were locked in a firefight because his team ambushed us with more force than we had anticipated, which had led to Aurora and I getting sectioned off from the rest.

The guy had been prepared to kill us, but once I spotted him--and Aurora started to take him out--the bomb detonated, knocking the guy out and preventing Aurora and I from signaling our handlers. Protocol dictated that we perform any action necessary to keep ourselves alive until rescue located us. Under no circumstances were we to escape ourselves--apparently, it had the potential to compromise the syndicate if we made our presence known at the wrong time.

Protocol didn't say a word about helping enemy agents, though.

Aurora sighed. "Fine. I'll heal him, but keep your mask on. I don't want both of us getting into trouble for this shit, especially you. You're on thin ice as it is."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, just make sure he doesn't die."

She settled next to him, hovering her hands over his body. "Plato, sit next to him. Be ready to handle him when he wakes up. Even after I've healed him, he's gonna be in shock from the physical trauma he just went through. Ready?"

Getting into position at his side, I nodded. "Wake him up."

Warm, orange-colored magic flowed into him. Skin stitched back together, wounds vanished, and his body reassembled itself. The ragged rips in his clothes remained, as well as the dried blood, but no new blood protruded from his body. A second later, a harsh gasp tore through the air. The man bolted upright, breathing hard, periwinkle-colored eyes wild.

I put a hand on his chest, easing him back down. "Deep breaths, agent. Easy, just settle down. We're here to help you, not hurt you." He felt panicked--terrified to his very core. His heart raced beneath my fingers, even through the body armor. Sweat slicked the sides of his face, matting his caramel-colored hair against his hollow cheeks.

"You're walking out of here alive today. You understand?"

It seemed as though he couldn't focus on me--on what I said, but he was trying. He squinted and moved his head, sort of like he wanted to nod. I brushed his messy hair back from his face, my bare skin against his. He felt clammy.