Page 59 of Cross To Bear

Because when my mind started to wander, when working on a boring job, or having to tattoo the arse crack of a big hairy biker, it was always Maddie lying on my bench. Every single rule I’d outlined on the laminated sheet stuck to the wall would be broken if I was given free rein. The fantasy had evolved, developed, grown more and more elaborate with each day, until I was fucking dying to put it into action.

But not today.

I had a reservation at a nice place that did amazing brunch, complete with lakeside views. We’d drive over and I’d feed Maddie all the French toast and pancakes she could eat before taking her for a walk along the lakes, throwing scraps to the seagulls as we went. That was where I wanted to be, not fucking here. But right as I pulled one glove off, the client’s manner changed entirely.

“Hey, I really wanted it on the mid thigh region,” she said, all conciliatory now. “Mongrel wanted it higher up.” Her lips curved into a smug smile. “He liked the idea that any guy that got close would see his mark on me.”

I wanted to say how shit I thought that idea was, particularly when Mongrel had a wife and kids and this chick was just a latest side piece. Before the tattoo had scabbed over, Mongrel would’ve moved onto a new girl, but it wasn’t my job to counsel people out of shitty tattoos.

“Then he should’ve sent you to someone else,” I told her firmly, “because he knows what my policies are about intimate tattoos.”

“That’s fine.” She plopped down on the bench and stretched her leg out before slapping her thigh. “Just put it where you think it should go.”

On someone else, that was what I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I got the transfer paper and showed her the design, talking her through the ways I had to tweak the design. It wasn’t an Iron Wolf logo, because only the members of the MCs were allowed to wear it, though the wolfish design was MC adjacent enough to get Mongrel hard. She paid little attention, something that had my fangs grinding against each other, staring into my eyes, not at the design.

Fuck.

With a sigh, I placed the design, Cress leaning forward conspicuously, just to remind the girl she was here, and then I got the client to look at the mirror at the placement before I started work on it.

It was only a small design, that was what I consoled myself with, so when she inevitably wanted it erased or covered up, the next artist would have no trouble doing so. She spun around with a pleased smile and then hopped back on the bench while I got the inks ready.

Time stopped when I was tattooing. That was a good thing and a bad thing. I sank deep into a flow state brought on by the buzzing sound of my gun, and if I was enjoying the work, this was awesome. I’d get lost in the design, working faster and faster, each line, bit of shading, seen in my mind before I applied the gun to any part of the client. Cress had laughed about it early on in our working relationship, having to poke me in the shoulder to remind me to take a break or allow the client to have one. But this girl? She was making that hard.

I had to put hands on her to do the tattoo. There was no way to avoid that, but the look she was giving me, her eyes burning into my skin, it felt fucking wrong. I didn’t love tattooing female clients as it was, the intimacy of the act something I wanted to save for just the one woman. It was only the fact that the vast majority of women that came into the shop were completely appropriate in their dealings with me that got me through it. I was just a pair of hands and a tattoo gun, with a brain that could come up with designs they liked, nothing more, just as they weren’t anything to me. And that wasn’t enough for the client.

The way her breath came in too fast, her chest heaving, that set the bear on edge. Then there was the little jump at my first touch, the thin layer of latex in the form of gloves not entirely able to mask the heat of her body. Not her, not her, my instincts pulsed, not understanding intellectually that this was my job, my means to both express the creative urges that refused to be kept tamped down and contribute to the sleuth’s coffers. But as I turned the gun on, I delved into the humming sound it made and everything else dropped away.

I didn’t hear the shop door open, the bells jingling. I didn’t notice Cress get up to see who it was. I definitely didn’t hear my studio door click open. That little gasp though? It cut through the tattoo induced haze and had me jerking my gun away to find Maddie standing there. That dreamlike feeling that came while working? It didn’t decrease when I saw her, in my studio, in the gorgeous fucking dress Cress had helped me pick out. It just doubled, tripled, as my heart felt like it slowed right down then stopped as I took her in.

Fuck, Maddie was so damn beautiful.

“Oh!” she said, not take me now, my mate, as my heart demanding. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll—”

“You didn’t wait.” Razor strolled up behind our girl, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets as he got close, a smirk on his face. “I was gonna tell you that Bjorn had a job on this morning.”

“Right, so, I’ll wait out here.” Maddie nodded sharply, going all too pale. “Yep, that’s what I’ll do.”

The door was slammed shut abruptly, leaving me staring at it.

“Is that your girlfriend?” The client’s voice was like a boa constrictor, wrapping itself around my throat. “She can watch if she likes or… we could finish up in here uninterrupted now that there’s no one watching.”

“Stay here,” I barked, tossing the gun down and walking towards the door. “You move, this session is over.”

“You got it.”

I hated the way she looked at me, like she had a right to run her eyes up and down someone who belonged body, mind and soul to someone else.

The woman now standing in the waiting room of the tattoo shop.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have just barged in like that,” Maddie said, hands to her cheeks. “I thought… I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem.”

I knew what was going on inside that head of hers, the stink of fear, disappointment and betrayal choking me, but I couldn’t allow that to stand.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I told Maddie, tugging her close. “And you’re welcome to walk into my studio, my bar, my house, wherever the fuck you like, because…” I frowned slightly, staring into her wide brown eyes. “Because they belong to you, just like I do.”

And before she could say another thing, I slammed my mouth down on hers, kissing her until I was forced to take a full breath.

Chapter 35

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