Page 31 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

Seren stared at her screen, waiting for signs of life, but when there was nothing, she shrugged and put it on silent mode—but changed her mind and switched it to vibrate, just in case something serious had happened and he wasn’t being an asshole. Then she threw it in her purse, grabbed her keys and left.

Sundays and Mondays the shop was closed. That was why Rome picked those days to torture her. Not that Waverly was torture. It was just his presence around the periphery that made it unenjoyable.

What came up last minute? Family stuff? Something with Waverly? Rome just playing games? He was so cruel and out of touch with sheer basic goodness or common courtesy that it could just be him being a total tool bag.

Her condo wasn’t far from the small shop. She avoided thinking about the Prince of Freaking Darkness until she unlocked the door and let herself in. She relocked it and only flipped on the light in her own room, so that no one from the outside could tell there were signs of life inside. She wasn’t in the mood to answer people banging on the door. Weird as it was, it happened.

The fact that she used to find that weird, people trying to get a tattoo when the shop was clearly closed just because someone happened to be catching up on drawing or tidying up or cleaning inside, spoke to just how much her life had changed in the past month.

Her workspace was well lit even without windows. A few of the rooms had them, but she’d taken the worst space for herself. As owner, she felt that was her job. She’d splurged on good lighting all around, but especially in the rooms without natural light. This way, when she was working, she didn’t have to wear a head lamp. She did have a few lamps with moving arms that she could bring close for very detailed work if she needed them, but she rarely used them either. Becka had a vintage barber’s chair in her room and a fold-up massage style table for clients who needed to lie down for work, but she’d invested in an expensive table. The thing was so large that while it did technically fold down, she never put it away.

There was an antique wooden library style desk in one corner of the room with an adjustable office chair. Many artists solely used tablets to make digital art, but she’d always been so old school, preferring real pencils, pencil crayons, and markers. A huge stack of sketchbooks took up most of the desk space. On the far wall, she had two wardrobe style cabinets. One had her supplies for tattooing and the other contained drawing and artwork materials.

Seren was still behind and could have called in a client for the afternoon. There wasn’t much point in being at work without making up some of her lost hours, but she reasoned that she’d have the whole next day. She’d spend a few hours in the afternoon trying to get two or three clients lined up, or get one larger project in. It would be short notice, and Sunday would have been easier, but after Rome cancelling on her, she found it hard to even think about tattooing.

Damn it, she’d been so excited to see Waverly. She’d equally prepared herself to endure Rome’s presence, keeping him in the background. After the way he’d tricked her the last time they’d seen each other, he deserved nothing less than to be static noise.

Just keep telling yourself that’s all he is. As if you haven’t felt messed up all week.

Messed up in body, but in other ways too.

Other ways she tried to forget, by plunging herself into artwork. She got out a set of pencils and started filling pages in her sketchbook. Most of her artwork wasn’t art for the sake of it. It was work, because when you drew for a living, it became less about pleasure and more about constantly keeping pace. Even the things she sketched out, all the ideas that had been banging around in her head for days, would probably all end up leaving that private page and being reworked and transformed into tattoos for clients eventually.

The harder she pushed herself to stop thinking about a certain blackhearted beast, the more her mind refused to set him aside.

What truly made him the way he was? She had some pieces, but they didn’t give her a whole picture. More like jagged ideas that fit into a rough mash of a mess.

Did Rome ever wish he could be the way other people were? If he was interested in her, why not just ask her out? She would have turned him down because she didn’t date clients, but still.

Why the rules about not touching? Was he afraid that if he got too close, he’d get burned? Why play with fire if you didn’t want to go up in flames and end up burned down to the ground?

She had one last card left to play and it was about that. Even if it meant that her traitor body would have to get close and it would have to feel, it might mean making Rome feel something as well. That would be her way of fighting back, her evil triumph, her refusal to let him break her. She couldn’t come up with anything else that would push him to the brink. Give him what most people craved. Touch, nearness, emotion. He wasn’t like regular people. He’d hate it.

“Damn it.” She threw her pencil down and smashed her hands to her face. She ran them down her cheeks in agitation and left them at her neck. She groaned.

It wasn’t in her nature to want to hurt another person. She was no good at revenge plans. It made her sad to think about Rome being so far from normal. It made her sad to think that he might wish he was or might have wished at one time, and that just made her feel extra sad in a pathetic way for being sad and pathetic at all.

Ugh. What was it about him that tangled her up until she couldn’t think straight?

Seren bent over again and doubled down on her efforts to do the one thing that had always taken her out of herself. She managed to work solidly for the next few hours and push everything else out of her headspace.

She’d totally forgotten that she’d put her phone on vibrate until it started buzzing in her bag, which was down at her feet. An immediate stab of guilt hit her hard when she saw Becka’s name on the screen. For the past couple of weeks, she’d been avoiding her bestie. At work she tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Becka knew her well enough that she wasn’t buying it.

“You’ve been totally MIA lately,” Becka said after Seren answered, although it wasn’t accusatory. “My vampire senses are going haywire. Is something going on? Are you seeing a secret someone?”

“Oh my god. The vampire senses. Sigh.”

“The fact that you said the word sigh tells me that I’m right. Are they hot?”

Seren winced.

“Are they freaky?”

Her jaw locked so hard she had to pretty much pry out her response. “There’s no one.”

“Ooh, are they paranormal? Are they a shifter? Vampire? You still haven’t told me why you had to go out of town. Did they whisk you away? Was it a secret surprise and one so good that you had to bail on work, which is your number one thing not to do? You have to have a secret lover. Come on. I’m your bestie. Confess.”

Seren hadn’t told anyone about the insurance mess. Of course, they all knew about the malpractice suit, but she’d assured them the insurance company was going to pay, and after going over and over it to ensure everyone knew that this wasn’t in any way their fault, that was the end of it. They’d had a year while it was going on to gather evidence, ensure that they hadn’t been at fault, up their strict policies and cleaning procedures anyway, and by the time the verdict came down, it was incredibly disappointing, but they’d all been ready to move on, especially Andre.

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