Page 85 of Alpha Chase

Benji’s eyes widen in recognition and his eyes dart to the giant standing beside me. “Alpha Chase,” he greets, showing his neck in submission. “I’m honored you chose my shop for your first ink.”

“Vee here is pretty convincing,” Chase drawls, slipping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his side possessively. “You should bump that finder’s fee up to twenty percent.”

Benji nods. “Done.”

“Wait, really?” I ask, looking from Chase to Benji with wide-eyed enthusiasm.

Benji shrugs. “Sure, why not? Bring another Alpha in here and I’ll do it for free. Money can’t buy that kind of advertising.” He turns, gesturing for us to follow him further into the shop. “C’mon back, I’ll get set up.”

While Benji disappears into the back room of the shop again to grab supplies, I point out the tattoo chair to Chase and sink down onto a seat beside it, folding my arms over my chest. I wish I had a jacket or something to throw on over this skimpy dress- but it’s not exactly like Chase gave me advance warning that we’d be leaving the packhouse tonight.

“So do you know what you want?” Benji asks as he ducks back in from around the curtain, hands full of supplies. “I’ve got some sample books that you can take a look at, or if you have your own art, I can work off of that.”

Chase smirks, relaxing back into the leather chair and tucking his arms behind his head. “Vee’s gonna pick it out.”

I snap my head around to gape at him. “For real?” I ask, wide-eyed. “I thought you were joking about that…”

He shrugs a shoulder casually. “Surprise me.”

I’m sure it’s just the alcohol talking, but my lips spread into a mischievous grin as I conjure up images of the ridiculous shit I could get permanently tattooed onto Chase’s skin. Maybe I was onto something with my unicorn idea…

As if sensing my devious intent, Chase leans toward me, hooking a finger under my chin and tipping it up. “Behave, little devil,” he murmurs, his dark eyes boring into mine. “No frilly shit, don’t make me regret this.”

A giggle slips past my lips, and suddenly, I know exactly what I’m going to tell Benji to tattoo on him. And I can’t wait to see the look on his face once it’s finished.

“Fine,” I say, forcing my features into a blank expression, even though I’m practically jittery with excitement. “But no peeking until it’s finished, deal?”

Chase narrows his eyes on me suspiciously, but slowly nods his head. “Deal.”

I pop up from my seat, strutting around the tattoo chair to the counter where Benji is setting up the supplies. I lean in, cupping my hands around my mouth to whisper into his ear, describing the tattoo I want him to draw up. His eyebrows fly to his hairline and he casts a sideways glance in Chase’s direction, but to his credit, he doesn’t let anything else slip- his chest rumbles with a chuckle and he nods, putting his back to Chase to block his view as he starts to draw it up.

“Where do you want it?” Benji asks over his shoulder as he starts sketching.

Chase sits up in his chair, tugging his hoodie off overhead. The hem of his t-shirt rises with it, giving me a peek at those washboard abs of his. My gaze lingers long enough for Chase to catch me staring once he gets his sweatshirt off, a smirk coming to his lips. Then his eyes drop to my chest and he tosses his hoodie in my direction. “Put that on, you look cold.”

I snort, rolling my eyes as I snatch the sweatshirt out of the air. I’m well aware of the fact that this dress doesn’t do a thing to disguise how hard my nipples are underneath, but it isn’t anything Benji hasn’t seen before as a tattoo artist. Hell, he does piercings here, too, and I’m pretty sure a she-wolf was in the back getting her nipples pierced when I came here for my thigh piece. Still, I indulge Chase by slipping the hoodie on overhead, stuffing my arms into the sleeves and bunching them up to get my hands through.

I glance down at myself, confirming that the huge sweatshirt looks as ridiculous on me as it feels, coming down past my knees. It smells like Chase, though, which has my wolf giddy as fuck, practically rolling around with her tongue lolling out. I glance back up at Chase to find him staring, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as he assesses me.

“This is ridiculous,” I laugh, tugging my hair out from the neck of the sweatshirt and running a hand through it.

He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling gold. “Nah, it’s sexy as fuck.”

Heat crawls up my neck, my cheeks flushing. “Whatever.” I nod toward Benji. “Show him where you want the tat, Romeo.”

Chase leans back, turning over his right arm and slapping the spot beneath his elbow on the inside of his forearm. “Right here.”

Benji glances over his shoulder to see where he’s indicating, then nods, beckoning me back over to check out his sketch. I return to him eagerly, peering over his shoulder at the drawing in front of him, my lips sliding into a grin.

“It’s almost perfect,” I muse, reaching for the pencil in his hand. “May I?” He nods, handing it over as he slides the drawing my way. With a few flicks of my wrist, I add the finishing touches, my smile growing wider. “Now it’s perfect.” I slide it back to him, turning around and leaning my butt on the counter, folding my arms. “You’re gonna love this babe,” I chirp.

Benji gets to work copying the sketch onto tracing paper with stencil fluid, and to his credit, Chase doesn’t even try to sneak a peek. Still, I take it upon myself to distract him, sinking back down into the chair on the other side of him, slipping off my shoes, and kicking my bare feet up onto his lap. A growl rumbles in his chest as he clamps a hand down onto my thigh, squeezing, and I eye-fuck the shit outta him while my mind conjures up all kinds of dirty thoughts.

“Alright,” Benji sighs, swiveling on his stool with a razor and a damp rag in his hand. Chase points out the spot on his arm where he wants the tattoo again and Benji shaves the area, prepping it to transfer the stencil of his design.

“Eyes on me,” I say sternly when Benji reaches for the transfer paper, and Chase turns his head in my direction, a lazy grin sliding across his lips.

“It better not be a fucking kitten,” he grumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

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