Page 36 of Strelitzias in Spring

“Wolf is right here and can speak for himself,” Wolf grumbles, sounding like a petulant child unused to being cast aside. “I want to make sure that her skin is fully healed first before we start with anything.”

“Sorry, boss. You know I get excited for cover-ups.” She turns to me and winks. “I love getting my hands on pretty skin and making it even hotter.”

“Oh, I, uhm. Right.” I stumble over my words, unsure how to respond.

“Alright, Sloan, calm down. Serena hasn’t agreed to anything just yet.”

Sloan doesn’t answer him, just rolls her eyes. “Anyway, why don’t you lay down on your stomach so we can take a look at what you’ve got going on back there?” She gestures toward the tattoo table, already flat and prepped for my mortification.

I look between Sloan, Wolf, and the table and grimace, knowing that they won’t like what they’re about to find under my shirt. Even though Wolf has seen the tattoo, it’s not pretty, a blemish that showcases my impulse and stupidity and an endless source of embarrassment. Clearing my throat, I look at Sloan before explaining, “Just don’t be alarmed, okay? I know it doesn’t look good, and it’s nowhere near ready for more work, but”—I cut my gaze to Wolf—“it is better than it was, so it’s healing. Slowly, but it’s healing.”

“It’s fine, Serena; I’ve seen it all in my time here. Whatever it is, we’ll help you make it beautiful,” Sloan offers, softening her voice from a sexy rasp to a deep, placating tone. I return her smile and walk to the tattoo bench, easing down until my body is flat. Reaching down, I grip the hem of my shirt and inch it up my body, exposing the skin of my back slowly, like a strip tease, except there’s nothing sexy or alluring about this.

“Oh shit,” Sloan whispers, and I wince.

“Shut up, Sloan.”

“Sorry, boss, but—”

“Enough,” Wolf commands, cutting her off before she can continue verbalizing her thoughts.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will their words not to affect me, continuing to expose my skin until my shirt is bunched under my bra. I refuse to turn my head; instead, I burrow my face into the cool leather of the table and breathe in the antiseptic that lingers in the room. But even though I’m not looking, I can feel their presence behind me and the warmth of their bodies as they approach.

“Your skin is better than it was, but you still have a way to go, Serena.”

“I know,” I mumble into the leather, mentally flipping off Wolf for stating the obvious.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

I pause for a moment, considering his question. “Probably not.”

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, and I can picture him dragging a hand through his buzzed hair, emphasizing his frustration. Though, I’m not sure if he’s frustrated with me, the tattoo, or the slowness of the healing.

Metaphorically pulling up my big girl panties, I turn my face to look at them. Sloan’s expression is, in a word, comical; with her lip between her teeth, she’s smeared her bright red lipstick over her teeth.

Wolf just looks livid. However, he always looks livid.

“Do you mind if I take a picture of your back? It’ll help with the sketch,” Sloan asks as she pulls out her phone.

“No problem.”

I lie still, allowing the click of the phone’s camera to fill the silence of the room.

“Okay, perfect. I’ve gotten what I need. I’m going to head out now. It was great meeting you, Serena. I’m so excited to get started.”

“Me, too. Thank you, Sloan.”

With that, she leaves, softly sliding the door closed behind her, leaving me alone with Wolf.

17

Wolf

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me that you were still red and swollen,” I seethe, pissed that she came into this shop with a red and splotchy back, as though she was fucking ready to be worked on.

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