Page 55 of The Knotty Omega
“Will do, man,” I grin as I walk him out the door, locking it up behind him and closing the shades in front of the windows. My steps bounce as I head back over to Tink and start to clean my machine. She just sits back in her chair with a dazed look on her face.
“He didn’t evenactlike that hurt,” she says, staring off into space before snapping her attention to me. “And you!”
I grin as I move to put the parts of my machine into the ultrasonic cleaner. “And me?”
“You!” She points excitedly. “That was…that was fuckingart, Ollie! You’re a damn artist!”
I can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “I mean, it is in the titletattoo artist…”
She sighs and sits back in her chair. “I know, but it’s one thing to hear it, and another to see it…you’re really talented Ollie.”
And damn if I don’t blush a little. When’s the last timethathappened?
“I’m glad you think so, otherwise this courting gift would be really awkward.”
She blinks up at me. “Courting gift?”
Grinning sheepishly, I finish cleaning the machine and pull out my tablet, sitting in the stool next to her. “I’ve been working on this since our pack date.”
I open the app I use to draw my designs and pass it to her, her eyes light up as she takes it in. “This is…this is beautiful, Ollie.” She’s careful not to touch the screen, her fingers hover over the design, clean lines making up an open book. There are embellishments rising from the book, surrounding the small dragon, sword, and bolt of magic escaping from the pages.
“This design is an amazing gift,” she says breathlessly, her eyes tracing the lines.
“It’s just half of it,” I tell her, waiting for her to meet my eyes before explaining. “The other half…well, I’d like to give you the option of me, as your artist. Now…if you want.”
She stares at me, her plush lips open slightly as her breathing picks up in what I hope is excitement as she gently places the tablet on the tattoo chair next to her. Shit, I hope I didin’t just fuck everything up and massively overstep.
“There’s no pressure,” I tell her quickly when she doesn’t answer for a second. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t want to get it done right now, or ever. Hell, we can just print it off and put it on your wall if you want. Or you can set it on fire, it’s really not—”
She cuts me off by pressing her lips to mine, throwing one leg over mine so she’s straddling my lap. Her hands cup my face as my arms tighten around her waist, holding her close to me. My tongue swipes along her bottom lip, and she opens for me, moaning into my mouth.
Just as quickly, she pulls back, both of us breathing heavily as she rests her forehead on mine. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
“Well I wouldn’t say perfect,” I can’t seem to stop the babbling, “You can ask Simon, apparently I’m always leaving my dishes in the sink—”
She silences me again with another kiss, this one a quick press against my lips. “You are perfect, Ollie. This gift is perfect. I would be honored if you would tattoo me.”
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “I was thinking we could do splashes of watercolor behind it, or I could do a full color, or a mix of the two. Where do you think you want it?”
She leans back, biting her lip in that sexy-ass way of hers. “I was thinking here,” she motions to the inside of her left forearm, “and I love the idea of an outline with watercolor splashed behind it.”
“Alrighty then, hot-ass client of mine.” I give her ear a little nip and she squeaks. “Make yourself comfortable on the chair and we’ll get started in just a few minutes.
***
Three hours later, I’m wiping away the last of the excess ink and getting her arm wrapped up. She took the pain like a champ, especially since she’s never had a tattoo done before. While I worked, she asked me about my family, and I told her all about how I’m the second oldest of seven siblings. How my parents have never been anything but supportive to me, my three omega sisters and two brothers, both betas. How my parents let me live with them while I did my apprenticeship rent free, and never asked for a cent back, even when I blew up on social media and started making enough to open my own shop. How they view the rest of their pack like their own children, Simon going to one of my dads who’s in a motorcycle club when he was looking for information on bikes, and how my mom makes a cake for Mattie and Archie every year on their anniversary.
Cady shakes her head. “I wish I had support like that from my family."
“You do now,” I say gently, putting a finger under her chin and turning her to face me. “We’ll be your family from now on, if you want us to be. Me, Sy, Mattie, Arch, and Titus.”
She snorts and shakes her head again. “Titus doesn’t want me.”
Ah shit. I was afraid he’d buried his head too far up his ass. When he pulled her into his lap on Sunday, I had thought we were in the clear. “Of course he wants you, Tink, what do you mean?"
“I don’t know,” she looks down, unsure of herself. Which I hate. “He just…he won’t talk to me. He has plenty of opinions on my safety and doesn’t hesitate to tell me when he thinks I’m being stupid, but like…just in the car earlier, it was like pulling teeth trying to get a conversation going.”
Fuck. Titus has definitely got his own damage, but it’s not my business to share. “He wants you baby, how could he not? He just…he’s seen some shit. It’s not really my place, but if you want to know…I know if you ask him, he’ll tell you.”
