Ulyen: ool-yen
Ekana: eh-con-ah
PROLOGUE
Ilian
I smell her before I see her—floral, earthy, delicious.
My mouth waters, saliva pooling around my tongue as I swallow it back and focus on the client before me.
Their appointment should’ve ended half an hour ago, long enough for me to grab a quick bite to eat before my seven o’clock showed up, but life happened and now I work hangry.
A knock sounds on the door, and my apprentice pokes his head in. “Ilian, the winner of the Inked magazine contest is here.”
I grunt in acknowledgment, never looking up or stopping the steady flow of the needle as it etches the final strokes into the man’s bicep before me.
When I finish, I lean back to admire my handwork. It depicts a beautiful unicorn with flowing rainbow hair, a surprising touch for the sour-faced Qilin who requested it.
“What do you think?”
The Qilin casts a critical eye over his arm. “Nice. I like how you made the tail curl around to my elbow. My daughter will love it.”
Ah, a tat for his little girl, the rainbow hair now makes sense.
“Great. Let’s get you wrapped up so you can go. You know the protocol for fresh ink, but I’m going to go over it again.”
He sighs but listens as I repeat my safety care speech. It doesn’t matter if he’s heard it before or that this is his twentieth tattoo from me, I take my business seriously.
Infections are no joke, although monsters are less susceptible than humans.
“Thanks again, Ilian. See you next year,” he mumbles as he gets up to leave.
I blink, recalling the new year is nearly upon us. “Right, next year. How long’s the wait now?”
The Qilin shrugs. “Not too bad. Yuri managed to squeeze me in for the end of May.”
Six months for a previous client isn’t bad when I consider new clients are on a three year waitlist, but this is what happens when everyone votes you the world’s best tattoo artist.
According to Inked’s poll.
As soon as the results were published, my popularity exploded. It doesn’t matter that my studio is located in the coldest part of the globe, people still flock here like it’s a tropical holiday destination.
To clarify, it’s not. Berdsk is a suburb of the biggest city in the Novosibirsk oblast, but the booming mecca of humans and monsters doesn’t make it any warmer, especially this time of year.
The frosted window that overlooks the street rattles as great gusts of snowy wind blow by outside.
In summer, faces press against the glass to catch a glimpse of me in action, but even the appeal of my art doesn’t draw anyone out on days like these.
I wave goodbye to the Qilin as I step out of the room and inhale deeply. Fuck, the scent is even worse out here.
An illogical part of me wants to hunt it down, bottle it up, and keep it hidden from the rest of the world where only I can savor it, but I ignore the animalistic instinct.
It’s scary the things I already know just by the smell alone—female, human, and unclaimed by any of my kind.
Not that it would matter.
I scowl at the trajectory of my thoughts derailing like a rogue train and make a sharp right in the hallway away from the lobby—away from her—and quickly enter another room.
Yuri, my apprentice, will clean up the one I was just in. With a sigh, I ease onto a bench and pull out a candy bar from my pocket.
The chocolatey goodness coats my tongue, and for a moment, I can breathe again. The sugary treat doesn’t assuage my hunger, but it helps mask the scent that clings to the insides of my nostrils.
My fingers tremble around the wrapper, and I stare in wonder. One of the things I’m most renowned for is my steady hand—how I can work tirelessly for hours without a single twitch.
The vibrations of the needle along with the curled position of the fingers around the irons cause most people’s hands to become catatonic after a time, but never mine.
I attribute this to my Ithaquan blood as my kind has excellent circulation. Before humans and monsters interacted together in the modern world, Ithaqua would weather the frigid blizzards that whipped across the tundra without moving.
Anything else would die, but my kind can simply huddle down because our circulation is so efficient, it keeps us warm—and alive.
Just as I finish my snack, Yuri knocks. “Ready for your next appointment?”
No.
“Yep, send them in.”
