Misha glanced casually at his father’s markings.
On his back, at his shoulder blades, and on his lower back, there were intricate, tribal markings of an abstract nature.
Straight lines and sweeping curves decorated his body at the back and laced to his broad chest.
His stomach was unmarked. Nothing but a few old wounds graced that part of his body.
His powerful shoulders, upper arms, and the fronts of his thickset thighs were covered in black patterns that matched his back.
Nothing was on his forearms or the backs of his thighs.
His legs, from knee to feet, were also unmarked.
He turned as he pulled out a robe, and the design was as impressive as always.
Everything, on his father, was as impressive as always.
Tobias stared at Misha as his son eyed him.
“What?” he growled.
“Not
