Page 11 of Royal Sons MC

THE NEXT DAY, IVY GOTup, refreshed after a quick shower, and assessed the apartment. Whoever the club had sent over hadn’t done any real damage. It was more of a message sort of thing. Why they were fucking with her, she didn’t know. Her entire life had been with the club in some form. First as Luke’s friend, then as Luke’s girlfriend. She’d never had a cut like some of the ole’ ladies, the women who wore the patch declaring them the property of whatever brother she was with. Luke hadn’t wanted to be like his brothers, yet he was immersed in club politics just the same. It was easy to go along with him as his girl. Nobody fucked with her when she was with Luke. It looked as though that time was over. She wondered if she should call King and find out what was what. An image of him beating the hell out of someone he’d considered a traitor to the club kept her from following through.

Nope, she would ride this out like every other pothole she’d had to ride through. Going from her mother’s home to Luke’s after her stepdad had tried to get into her bed, Ivy had cried to Luke about the abuse she’d already suffered at his hands. Allowing the fucker access to her bed wasn’t something she had been willing to do. Memories of how her mom had reacted to Ivy’s claims flooded her. Her hand went to her cheek. The sting from the slap she’d gotten still hurt all these years later. She didn’t know if her mother and the jackass were still together. She knew that King and Duke had a come-to-Jesus talk with them both after Luke gave her stepdad a beat down. They’d returned with several bags of her clothes, promising she’d always have a home with them. “I shouldn’t have let Luke talk me into pretending.” Of course, she’d learned the hard way that there was no use crying over spilled milk.

After getting ready, she picked up her bag, making sure the new keys were on her keychain, then headed toward the door. A glance at the screen showed her the front of the building, assuring her nobody waited at the bottom for her.

Hours later, her palms were sweating while she backed into a spot by Twisted Ink. Mentally, she prepared herself to see Tymber, yet no amount of preparation could’ve helped her prepare for that first sight of him. He was sitting in a leather chair, bent over a man’s body with the tattoo gun in his hand. Loud, heavy metal music playing made her entrance less noticeable until the bells above the door dinged, signaling her arrival. Three men lifted their heads, each one previously intent on their tasks.

Ivy waved, her eyes caught and held by Tymber’s. Damn, the man is even more gorgeous than she remembered. Today, he wore a black T-shirt without a flannel, leaving his arms bare for her visual pleasure. Holy shit, he was mouth-wateringly sexy without even trying. She watched as his hand holding the tattoo gun lifted. He wore a ring on his thumb and another on the pointer finger of his right hand. She wondered where he’d gotten them, pressing the little jealous hussy down.

“I’m a little early,” she said, hating how her voice cracked.

“Have a seat. I’m almost done here.” Tymber nodded toward the man on his table.

True to his words, Tymber finished up, walking his client through the care instructions. While he cleaned up, she took in the inside of Twisted Ink. The art lining the walls was gorgeous. She got up to look at one closer.

“Ember painted that. He’s an artist with a gun or a brush.” Tymber placed his hands on her shoulders, speaking next to her ear. “I won’t tell you what else I’ve heard he’s good with.”

His warm breath fanning over her flesh sent a shiver of delight through her. “Hmm, well, I’m sure he’s all that and a bag of chips. How about you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Tymber dropped a kiss on her exposed neck. “I’m pretty good.”

A snort from behind them had her twisting around. The man who spoke had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, his bad-boy grin telling her more than words. “Well, I hope you’re better than good,” she quipped.

He stepped back, his hand trailing down her arm until he reached her hand. “Come over here and see what I’ve done.”

She let him lead her to his workstation where several pieces of paper lay, the quote she’d told him she wanted on each piece, with a slightly different handwriting. “Did you do all these?” she gestured toward the drawings.

“I did two out of the four. Lincoln and Ember did the others. Tell me which you like the best, or if you don’t like any, we can start over.” As he spoke, he tipped his head to where Link was.

Ivy noticed him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, but she could feel tension crackling. God, what if she chose one he hadn’t done? She gave herself a mental shake. This was her body that was being marked forever. Taking the time to study each piece, she kept returning to one in particular. The curling of certain letters made the design seem more...feminine. “This one,” she said, pointing at the design she could already see on her rib cage.

A bright smile broke across Tymber’s face. “Perfect, that one is mine. So, where are we inking you?”

Ivy unzipped her jacket, exposing what she wore beneath. “Right here,” she indicated her ribs.

“Damn, girl, that’s a sensitive place. You sure you want it there?”

Her eyes jumped upward, looking for the speaker. A gorgeous woman with long black hair parted to the side, showing the shaved half of her head, strolled in from the back. Her tattoos were colorful, like the woman’s. “Oh, I want it there, alright.” Her pain threshold was high, but even so, she was prepared for the feel of the needle.

The woman brought over some papers for her to fill out, making Tymber mutter under his breath. “I have a set here for her, Lux.” He pointed toward the papers lying on the desk.

“Yeah, but sometimes you forget. Did you happen to get one of these signed by your customer last night?” One dark, perfectly shaped brow winged up, challenging Tymber.

He raised his right hand, and using his left, he began rolling until his middle finger was extended. “Special circumstances, and for your info, he’s filled out the forms before.”

Ivy felt like she was watching a tennis match. “Do you two need a moment?” she questioned. The last thing she planned to do was become the middle of another love story, making it a triangle. Nope, she was done with that shit.

“Nah, Lux just thinks she’s the boss around here,” he teased, winking at Ivy. “Come on, let’s put this on you and see if you like the size and placement.”

The beautifully written words looked perfect after he peeled back the paper, leaving the outline on her side, just below her breasts and down to her hips. Her black sports bra served as a shirt under the jacket she’d had on, and even now, lying on the table, she didn’t feel the slightest bit out of her comfort zone. The soft hum of the needle soothed her jagged soul, allowing her to float away while Tymber carefully worked on her tattoo. What seemed like only minutes later, she heard Tymber announce he was done. Her lids lifted. “I fell asleep,” she laughed.

“Yep, and you snore. I think Ember is jealous. Do you want to see? I added some color around the feather of the pen and a few more splotches, making it look like a watercolor, like you’d described.”

She turned until she was sitting, getting her bearing under her. Once she was sure her legs would hold her, she hopped down and walked to the full-length mirror. She lifted her arm so she could see the entire piece. “Holy shit, it’s gorgeous,” she said, not bothering to tamp down the awe she felt.

Tymber stood behind her, his hands still covered by black latex gloves. “I’m glad you like it. Who did the fairy on your back?”

Her shoulders lifted and fell while she kept her eyes pinned to his through the mirror. “One year down in Sturgis, I got the bright idea to get a tattoo. The guys vetted the shop for me. I told him what I wanted, and he did a quick sketch, making the fairy appear like I wanted.”

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