Page 58 of Siren

Chapter 30

Fox~

We haven’t slept, but I didn’t care. After Kincaid had threatened Jonathan Lexington-because, let’s face it, that’s what she’d done-I’d been so fucking turned on that we hadn’t made it back to her place before I’d had her riding my dick. Since we’d been keeping with tradition and had our ceremony at midnight, it’d been easy to turn into a dark parking lot and have my way with her. Then once we’d gotten home, we’d gotten it on again, and again, and again.

Still ramped up from everything, I had searched for quality tattoo artists who were still open, then paid a fortune to get Kincaid in without an appointment. My wife didn’t have any tattoos on her body, so this was going to be her first, and my inner caveman was damn happy with himself.

What I’d found suspect about the entire thing was that Kincaid hadn’t argued one bit over dragging her to get tattooed on our wedding night. She’d been fine with it, even smiling at me the entire way over.

For the amount of money that I was dishing out, I’d been allowed to come back here with them as long as I behaved. Kincaid had a modesty towel on, but it was hard to ignore that her panties were halfway down her hips. After explaining what I wanted, Christy-the tattoo artist-had smirked and thought it a perfect tattoo. When Kincaid had pointed out that I was insane, Christy had only admitted to thinking that it was a perfect tattoo, she’d never said anything about me not being crazy.

“How are you doing, baby?” I asked, my thumb rubbing back and forth in her hand.

Kincaid slid her black eyes my way. “I’m fine. It’s numb now.”

“I can’t wait to kiss it all better,” I teased.

Christy chuckled. “You better be happy with kissing it only for a couple of days.”

I grinned, not embarrassed at all. “For the rest of my life, actually.”

“Dude, that rock she has on her finger can be seen from the moon,” she snorted. “I already figured as much.”

While making the arrangements for the wedding, I’d gone to the same place where Saxton had gotten Hastings’ new wedding set and had purchased a five-carat, emerald cut, D-grade diamond ring with more diamonds on the side. The matching band was made up of the same cut gems, only the stones alternated between diamonds and onyx stones. The second that I saw it, I knew the set belonged on Kincaid’s finger.

“The guy has issues,” Kincaid remarked easily. “But we’re working on them.”

Christy just chuckled. She was easy to be around, though she wasn’t anything like I had expected. The girl looked like she belonged at a debutante ball. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, her blue eyes were clear and bright, she didn’t look like she was over five-foot, and there wasn’t a dot of ink on her. At least, from whatever skin that she was showing.

“So, do you have any tattoos, fruitcake?” she asked with good humor.

“I have a couple,” I admitted. We all had our symbols tattooed on the back of our arms. “On the back of my arms. A personal symbol and Sphinx.”

She stopped inking Kincaid and looked over at me. “Not the Sphinx of Giza? The actual Sphinx?” I nodded. “Yeah, I can see it.” She went back to tending to Kincaid, and a few minutes later, she was patching Kincaid up, the fox finished and in position for life.

After giving Kincaid all the instructions for her aftercare, she looked over at me. “Ready?”

“Ready?” Kincaid echoed.

I winked at her. “Kincaid means battle leader,” I told her. “I’m getting a sword and shield with your initials on them.”

She didn’t comment for a long minute as Christy prepared a new set of tools. After a while, she asked, “Where are you getting it?”

“Well, since I can’t make it to the Supreme Court with your name tattooed across my neck, I’m getting it on my chest. Over my heart.”

“You know, I can probably fund a two-week vacation with what your husband’s paying me for these tattoos,” Christy chimed in. “For six.”

We chuckled, but Kincaid got serious again. “Fox, you don’t have to do that,” she stated. “I’m good.”

I pulled off my shirt before saying, “I know you are.” I didn’t care that Christy could overhear our very personal conversation. “But I don’t think that I will ever be.”

“I will always be sorry,” she whispered, not carrying that Christy could hear, either.

“I know,” I told her. “Still, this isn’t about that. This is about being ninety years old and you dying before me because I meant what I said earlier. The only way you’re ever leaving me is over my dead body, Kincaid.”

“Okay, you guys are getting me teary-eyed, and I can’t have that,” Christy grumbled. “I need to be able to see what I’m doing.” We both chuckled, then set the heavy aside.

After Christy was finished with my tattoo, I thanked her, paid her a small fortune, then we went on our way. The plan was to go home, kiss her tattoo all better, then get some sleep. It was safe to say that we had another week of classes blown to shit, and starting next Monday, we were going to need to buckle down with school.

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