Page 27 of Chasing Sparks

The raw, unvarnished truth?

The thought that won’t stop bouncing around my brain, no matter how much I try to reason it away as insane and impossible?

I don’t want to like Oriana Thorne this much.

I don’t want her running through my thoughts on an endless loop or her image tattooed in my memory.

And it’s not just the sex, though I know that’s what Ori believes.

It’s everything.

Her smiles, her snarky wit, that husky laugh—even her infamous eye roll when I’ve stepped in it yet again.

I invent reasons to be near her, even if it’s only for a few moments. How I felt like a fucking king when she walked intoBlack Lotuslast night and staked her claim on me.

It’s all the little moments when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention.

And it’s exactly why I need to keep her at a safe distance.

I’ve been down this road before, and I know how the ride ends.

Trust me, it’s not pretty, and I’ll be damned if I fall down that rabbit hole again.

Not even for Ori.

No matter how tempting the idea.

It must be a full moon.

That’s the only explanation for the string of cockups throughout the day. Nothing major, thank God, but countless minor inconveniences in an already swamped day.

First, the phone lines went down. Then the ink delivery I’d been waiting on for days ended up at the wrong address—again. And when one of the hydraulic chairs gave out mid-session, I was damn near ready to throw in the towel and take up bartending instead.

By the time I finally heed the gnawing hunger in my stomach, it’s almost three o’clock. My morning coffee islonggone.

On the plus side, I finished a side piece, which took over twelve hours to ink. It was worth every second, judging by the woman’s excited squeal when she saw it in the mirror.

A gorgeous woman, too, her extensive ink adding to her already gothic vibe. Turns out the admiration was mutual—she pressed a cash tip and her cell number into my palm before blowing me a kiss and strutting out the door.

“Another number? How many does that make this week?” Zane asks, giving me a slap on the back.

Zane has been atBlack Lotusfor years, so he’s well-versed in my dating habits. But let’s be real—the man isn’t exactly hurtingfor female companionship, either. Three is his favorite number, and he’s never short on takers.

“Five, I think? It’s been a slow week.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the kinks. “I’m starving and my head is blasting. Want to call in a pizza?”

“No need,” a familiar voice chimes in from over my shoulder. “I saw you guys were swamped, so I brought in some fuel for your fires.”

A grin breaks across my face when I turn to see Ori standing in the reception area ofBlack Lotus, her arms loaded with bags.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, though I’m so damn glad she did.

Ori shrugs, setting the bags on the table. “No big deal. I stopped at the deli and got several sandwiches, a few sides, and some drinks. Then I swung by the liquor store to grab an after-hours treat for you three.”

“You brought us food? I’m so marrying you, Ori.” Zane grabs one bag and peers inside, groaning at the delicious smell.

I know the man is joking, but something about the appreciative looks he’s giving my petite brunette irks the fuck out of me.

Hold up. Did I just refer to Ori as mine?

---