Page 40 of Inked Beasts

I don’t know what I was thinking, inviting her to come here. It was an impulse; I wanted to do something completely different than the last several years, and Mom hasn’t been back to Vegas since we left.

She arrived two days ago, staying in another room at the resort, and so far it’s been fun. We took in a revue on the Strip, did some shopping, and enjoyed some delicious meals. But there have been some nerve-wracking moments, too.

Thorn came out while we were having dinner last night, and of course he remembered my mom. She remembered him too—and the moment he left our table, she pinned me with an eagle-eyed parental stare. “Are you seeing him?”

I sputtered. “What? Why do you ask?”

“I’m not a fool, Lexy. I saw the way he looked at you, and you got as nervous as the proverbial cat the second he appeared.”

“I did not,” I protested, somehow regressing to my teen years despite knowing better. With a sigh, I tried to formulate a more adult response. “We’ve been getting reacquainted, but it’s nothing serious.”

That’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve been seeing Thorn, and Kai, and Gage for the last several weeks, my fantasyland visit stretching out for longer than I’d thought possible. I’ve grown dangerously accustomed to having one of them with me most nights, and I’m steadfastly refusing to think about how I’m going to feel when I have to go back to my normal life.

Because I know it’s inevitable. Every time I visit Beasts Ink, I get dagger stares from the groupies. They’re a painful reminder that the boys I knew have become men whom I know only in part, who have whole sections of their lives where I’m not welcome.

I don’t begrudge them their success, or their celebrity, but being in the spotlight is not something I’ve ever wanted. I’m more comfortable working my magic behind the scenes, and these past weeks have only reinforced that understanding.

Tonight, though, is my most immediate problem. How on earth am I going to get through Thanksgiving dinner without my mother—not to mention the Sanchezes—figuring out the truth about me and the men?

Letting the curtain fall, I flop onto my bed, arms outstretched. A little part of my brain says that we should just tell our parents the truth, but I’m afraid that would bring my alternate reality to a screeching halt and send me crashing back into the mundane universe. And I’m not ready to give up my men. Not yet.

Every moment with them makes me feel alive like nothing else. Thorn and his smile, his easy ways melded with earthy sensuality; Gage and his tenderness, tempered with dominance; and Kai and his inferno, igniting me on every level.

When I’m alone, I sometimes entertain the most ridiculous fantasy of all: that it could go on forever, the four of us bound together in some magical way that lets us defy the world’s demands and expectations. But in my more sober moments, I know it can’t last.

Eventually, we’ll want the ordinary things people do with their lives: marriage, children, domestic stability. Respectability. Things that our arrangement makes impossible, no matter how wonderful it is to be with each of them.

* * *

“I still can’t get over Gage lending you a car, and one as nice as this,” Mom says. We already had this discussion when I picked her up from the airport, but me taking an extra couple of seconds to find the knob to turn on the windshield wipers, which I haven’t needed until today, has kicked it off again. “He must be doing really well for himself.”

“I guess he is,” I say, hoping it ends there. If I wasn’t preoccupied with pulling out into traffic, which is much heavier than I expected, I’d be quicker in coming up with something to change the subject.

“And he must really think highly of you to lend you a car.”

I find an opening and finally manage to pull out. “You know we’ve always been good friends.”

“What does Thorn think of Gage giving you this car?”

I give her a quick glance, frowning. “Gage didn’t give me the car, Mom. I’m borrowing it.”

“You know what I mean. If you and Thorn are dating, I think he might have an issue with another man, even a mutual friend, loaning you a luxury sports car. It’s been nearly a month, hasn’t it?”

Ihavehad this car much longer than I intended. I tried to give it back, but Gage insisted I keep it, even though I strongly suspect he bought himself a new vehicle after he loaned me this one. He doesn’t seem the type to have a garage full of extravagant vehicles, even if he can afford it.

Gage is generous to a fault, and clever about it, too. We’ve gone shopping together a few times, and I’ve found myself eyeing some little item at a store; once it was a bangle for my wrist, another time a small ceramic cat. I’m never aware of Gage being nearby at these moments, but somehow, a few days later, the items in question have mysteriously appeared in my room, sitting on the table by the door.

It’s obvious that he’s responsible for the gifts, but he’s given himself deniability. If I pressed the issue, I could make him stop, but I think that would hurt him, and I’m not willing to do that.

“Things with Thorn are very casual,” I finally reply as I signal a left turn.

“Lexy, you know I don’t normally pry, and I’ve been trying not to, but your breakup with Scott and your impulsive decision to stay out here have me concerned.”

Looking at the situation from her point of view, I guess that makes sense. I’ve always been someone who has their life planned out in as much detail as possible. No one would ever describe me as spontaneous, yet my decision to stay here was definitely that. It makes sense that the person who knows me best would be worried.

I’ve never had much reason to keep parts of my life secret from her, and it doesn’t feel great doing so.

“Things with Thorn are casual … and things with Gage are casual, too.” It feels good to admit this to her, even if it’s not the complete picture, though it immediately occurs to me that my timing could have been better, being that we’re headed over to sit around a table with Gage, Thorn, and the entire Sanchez family.

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