Page 61 of Cross To Bear

“We’re done.”

Bjorn didn’t ask for her opinion, just wheeling back as he set the tattoo gun down in the little cart of inks. Tiffany blinked and then extended her leg slowly, twisting it this way and that.

“Shit, you really do do good work.”

Wait, what?

Why the hell had she demanded a special weekend appointment if she wasn’t a fan of his work. My eyes narrowed as she looked up, then smirked at me.

“It looks amazing. Mongrel’s gonna shit. You’ll get the money from him?”

“I’ll be having words with Mongrel,” Bjorn promised in an ominous tone. “Don’t you worry about that. So I’m assuming you know about aftercare?”

“Wrap me in a warm fluffy blanket and then make me drink a bottle of water?” she said with a wink, the effect somewhat ruined as she jumped down, wincing at the pain.

“Keep the tattoo covered for several days, then clean and moisturise regularly or the scab will crack and you’ll ruin the design,” he replied flatly.

“But you’ll be around to fix it up if there’s any issues, right?”

“Normally, yes, but seeing this was a ‘favour’ to Mongrel, I’d look after the piece real well, because there will be no more touch ups done in this studio.” He walked over to his desk and pulled open a drawer to grab a printout. “These are other studios in the area that are likely to help out if you run into any trouble.”

Tiffany just stared at the paper then him, frowning slightly before snatching it out of his hand, but not before shooting me a scathing look.

“Mongrel will hear about this.”

“And Mongrel knows in bear form I can send his wolf yipping off like a spanked puppy,” Bjorn shot back. “No wolf shifter is gonna tackle my kind head on. You just got a free tattoo and a good part of my morning, so take the win and don’t let the door hit you on the arse as you go out.”

“Holy crap…” I whispered when I heard the front door bells jingle aggressively, the door slamming shut not long afterwards. “Does that shit happen often? Because…”

His eyes dropped sharply down to look at my hands as they tightened into fists then relaxed.

“Because what, Maddie?” The cool, even standoffish artist was gone now, his amber eyes turning to molten gold. “You took off out of here like your arse was on fire. Why was that?”

“I felt like I was intruding,” I replied primly.

“No such thing. I could be tattooing a girl’s vag and I’d still want you in the room,” he replied.

“You don’t do that, do you?”

I scanned his face, searching for an answer I could live with.

“Maybe back when I was young and dumb, but tattooists work out real quick you don’t shit where you eat, so no I haven’t. Not for a long time, especially…” His lips thinned. “Especially not since I met you.”

Fuck him, with his searing looks and all that earnestness. Fuck all of them, because they knew exactly what they were doing. They told me, did exactly what I wanted, and I didn’t even have to prompt them, which killed me. Or rather it broke down my carefully erected walls and I wasn’t sure what to do about that. Rather than meet all that repressed passion head on, I got to my feet and padded slowly towards him.

“So if I came into your studio…” I edged closer and closer, feeling like the bear was in the room, not the man, and that made my hand shake a little as I reached out and trailed my hand across his chest. “And asked for a very special tattoo.” I eased my butt onto the tattoo bench, feeling like a lumpy idiot in comparison to Tiffany’s sylph-like elegance, but hey, he chased her off for me. I put both feet up on the leather after kicking off my ballet flats. “You’d say no?”

He didn’t answer immediately, watching me with rapt fascination, his fangs flashing as I slid the hem of my very pretty dress up.

“That’s what she was doing, right? Tiffany wanted something tattooed somewhere a little more… intimate, didn’t she?”

Was I interrogating him over what happened or reclaiming this space as mine? I didn’t know and neither did he. Bjorn just watched as I drew the dress up inch by inch, then a feral growl rattled in his chest as he lunged at me. My hands were pinned to the bench as he towered over me.

“What she wanted meant nothing. No, less than nothing, because I’m not hers to have. Not her, not any other woman. Just you.” He sucked in a breath, fighting for control, and for some reason I wanted to see him off the leash. Maybe that would take the shine off, turn him from something larger than life to just a man. “Just you, Maddie.”

He was going to kiss me again, and then all would be lost. I’d be a gasping, moaning mess all over a workbench that still held the lingering warmth of another woman’s body. I needed to know what the hell I was getting myself into, hanging around the four of them, and that was how I stopped his descent.

“What did she want to happen?” He froze, staring at me. “What did Tiffany want? What do all the other women that come in here want?”

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