He pressed a cold washcloth on the jagged wound. “No.”
“No? But . . . it’ll scar.”
“Amery. That’s what I want.”
“Why?”
“Doing it myself with barbed wire seemed a little over the top. The plastic surgeon that stitched me up after my last fight has done this sort of thing before.” He removed the washcloth. “Look at it and tell me what you see.”
Amery reached out to touch it, but snatched her hand back at the last second. Then she leaned closer. “Okay. It’s hard to discern much beneath the, ah, blood, but it looks like a Japanese symbol.”
“It is. It’s the symbol for your name.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you maim yourself on purpose?”
With his free hand, he tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “Because your name is already etched into my heart and burned onto my soul. I wanted it carved into my skin.” He angled his head and pressed soft kisses over the thin white scars on her right arm—the unintentional marking of his name that had drawn him to her in the first place. Now that he’d chosen to be marked in the same way, he finally felt they’d come full circle.
Her eyes filled with tears. “You crazy, masochistic man. Couldn’t you have just gotten a tattoo?”
“Tattoos fade. The scarring will get more prominent with time.” He rested his forehead to hers. “Please understand. I needed to do this.”
After a moment, Amery said, “Believe it or not, I do understand.”
“Good.” Ronin released a shuddering breath. “I love you.”
“I know. You’ve got my name gouged into your skin.”
He laughed softly and leaned back, his mood lighter. “Now that that’s out of the way, there’s the issue of you breaking the dojo rules again. You can think about possible consequences as you’re waiting for me, on your knees, in the practice room, while I’m bandaging this up.”
Amery’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s not fair! I only did it because I was worried—”
“So you admit that you did it?” He flashed a smile. “Then why are you still standing here arguing with me?”
“Because you tricked me, you jerk.”
“Yes, sir, or yes, Sensei, or yes, Master Black is an appropriate response. You jerk is not. Is that clear, Amery?”
“Crystal clear, sir.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “But that’s Mrs. Black to you.”