Page 74 of Destined for Dreams
Cori was horrified by her behavior, but the nausea was overpowering what was left of her pride. She slammed the bathroom door behind her and fell in front of the toilet, hugging it just in time to empty eggs and pancakes into the bowl. Something was seriously wrong. It wasn’t like her to throw up for no reason, and yet she’d been feeling sick all morning. And even last night, the chill she’d developed had made her think she could be coming down with something—if not for the sense of doom that came with it and her concern for Bartol.
It took a few minutes until she stopped heaving and managed to get up and rinse her mouth out. With her enhanced hearing, she could tell Asher was on the other side of the door, waiting for her. Cori washed her face for good measure and dried off before facing her employee.
“I’m okay,” she said as she stepped into the hall.
He gave her a concerned look. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I think I might be coming down with the flu or something. Last night I was feeling cold and now this.”
“If you want, I could run the shop for the day after you’re done with the other guy,” he offered. “It sounds like you should get some rest.”
That actually sounded like a great idea. Between her nerves and the nausea, she didn’t know how she could do a full day of work. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
“No problem.”
This was exactly the reason he was her employee, and why she worked hard not to lose him. It was hard enough to find good artists, but even more difficult to find ones who were reliable and trustworthy enough to cover her store when she was gone.
They headed back to the front where a gray wolf stood. The animal wasn’t much bigger than a healthy Alaskan wolf at the end of summer and had maybe an extra twenty pounds of meat and muscle compared to the native breed. No one would guess he wasn’t native to the area with such a small difference in size.
“So I guess it worked,” she said, meeting Derrick’s gaze.
He studied her closely, a hint of concern in his expression, before turning his attention to the wolf. “Appears so.”
“Are there any more bets you have to pay out?” she asked.
The alpha chuckled. “Not this time. I learned my lesson already.”
That was good to hear.
“He can’t leave here like that,” Bambi pointed out. “When’s he gonna shift back?”
“Give him a few minutes. Younger wolves gotta have a break first before they can shift again,” Derrick explained.
Cori took a deep breath, glad her nausea had subsided enough she could handle being in the same room with Bambi. “I’ll go get my booth ready.”
Doubt entered the alpha’s gaze. “You sure you’re up for it?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, giving him a dismissive gesture. “My nerves have just been shot, and I might be coming down with something.”
He frowned, looking like he was about to argue that idea but then thought better of it. “Alright—if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Cori headed back down the hall to her booth and started cleaning up the mess from the first guy. Then she prepped her tools for Derrick, wanting to ensure everything was laid out and perfect before he came into the room. He might have a higher pain tolerance than the first werewolf, but he’d still be more intimidating to work on. Seeing what he could become only reminded her that he wasn’t even close to a normal human.
“Ready?” he asked, coming in just as she finished her preparations.
Cori gestured at the chair. “Yep, have a seat and put your bare back to me.”
He did as requested, pulling his black t-shirt off before doing so. He had a very broad and muscular back that spoke of pure, raw power. The man could probably lift a bus if he were so inclined. After hesitating a moment, she set the outline right over his spine between his shoulder blades.
Once she pulled the paper away, she started her tattoo machine and readied it with ink. Cori would do the permanent outline first before shading with color. The first guy had taken her about forty-five minutes, but she hoped she could go faster with Derrick.
He looked over his shoulder and sniffed at her. “You smell…different.”
“It’s probably the gloves and all the cleaners I use for sterilization,” she said, bracing her hand on his back as she began to work.
He didn’t flinch as the needles poked into him. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”
