Chapter Four
The New Blue Dragon Ink
Denver, Colarado
“So.” Zoe Parish leaned back, switched the tattoo gun to her left hand, flexed her right hand and fingers, grabbed her water bottle. “You need a break, Elle?”
“Yes, please,” Elle said. “Maybe some more water?”
“I’ll get it, baby.” Liam ‘Viking’ Callahan got to his feet and dropped a tiny kiss on Elle’s dark head. “You just relax and take a breath, huh?”
“Thanks,” she said, then gingerly stood up and did a small side-bend. The tattoo on her back was almost done: this was the last of four sessions, and Elle fought down the wild urge to catch a peek at it in the parlour mirror. She resisted, though, because she wanted to see it in all its glory, done and vibrant, all traces of that horrible, disgusting word that Gideon had marked into her skin gone.
She knew that that repulsive slur was still there, of course, under Zoe’s gorgeous design. It would always be there, but Elle also knew that she could take something ugly and make it beautiful. She was determined to build a whole new life on the rubble of her old one, and this tattoo was a big step forward in doing that.
“So.” Viking ambled over to the women, carrying his six-foot-seven frame with rangy grace.“How much longer, Zee?”
Zoe took a sip of water, squinted at Elle’s back. “Twenty minutes, I figure. I just want to go over the small petals one last time, really solidify their outlines.”
“Got it,” Viking said, then smiled at Elle. “Here you go, baby. Drink that down. You’re doing great, and you’ve made it to the home stretch now.”
Elle Turner looked up at Viking as he handed her the water, and as she always did, she sighed at his undeniable charisma and presence. Her man was skyscraper-tall and -broad with flaming red hair and sparkling blue eyes, a lush red beard and full lips. He looked like a ferocious Nordic viking, and she always, always responded to that unabashedly primal and primitive part of him fiercely.
For about the thousandth time it occurred to her just how completely this man had saved her life, and she meant that in every way possible: literally and physically and emotionally and spiritually. Not only had Viking shown her grace and gentleness right after she’d fled Gideon’s fucked-up nightmare of a cult, but he’d also shown her what real sexual pleasure was. This man had shown her what her body could do, and he’d made her truly understand and believe that she had total and final say over that body. Who saw it naked, who touched it, who loved it. He’d taken her body, used it for his own pleasure, claimed it and owned it – but never disrespected it. Not once.
That was when Elle knew that it was finally time to tell him how she really felt.
“What’s up, baby?” he asked her, catching the look in her eyes and mistaking the hazy lust for something else. “You OK? Feeling dizzy?”
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, gave him a smile. “I’m fine.”
“You look weird.” He tilted his head at her, clearly seconds away from starting to talk her into calling the tattoo session to a halt for a few days. “Kind of far away.”
“I am weird,” Elle said airily. “But I was just thinking about something.”
“What?”
“I was thinking that I love you.”
Viking stared down at her, utterly stunned and thrilled in equal measure. Good Christ, he loved this woman more than he ever thought it possible to love a human being, and he’d been toying with the idea of telling her exactly that. He’d held back, though, mostly because he knew what she’d been through at the hands of that fucked-up fuck Gideon, and he’d worked damn hard to make Elle feel safe.
Over the past few months, Viking had watched in delight and pride as his girl had reclaimed everything that the cult had taken away from her: her voice, her identity, her name, her body. He’d worked hard to help Elle take ownership of her life, and he’d staunchly stood by every decision she’d made, supported every ‘yes’ and ‘no’ that she’d uttered, cheered every victory. He admired her and wanted her in his arms all the time; he thought she was the most beautiful, miraculous little thing that he’d ever seen, ever held, ever known.
He loved her. Wildly and utterly and deeply.
He’d wanted to tell her that every day for weeks now, but he hadn’t wanted to push Elle. She was never going to be pushed again, not ever. Certainly not by him.
And now here she was, standing there clutching a towel in front of her perfect breasts, her dusky purple eyes gazing up at him, her pouty rosebud lips saying the best, most magical words he’d ever heard… and Zoe was standing right there.
So Viking couldn’t pick Elle up and wrap her legs around him; couldn’t carry her over to the wall, tearing off her jeans as he went. He couldn’t push her up against it, fuck her up against it, lowering her onto his cock over and over until she whimpered and cried out and came all over him, all around him. He couldn’t sink his teeth into that beautiful throat, physically mark her as his, growl that he loved her, loved her, loved her as he came hard and strong in her tiny body.
No, all of that was for later when her tattoo had healed up. For now, he did what he could, which was to carefully take her in his arms, avoiding her back. He lowered his mouth to hers, took her sweet mouth, and whispered: “I love you too, baby. So much.”
Elle smiled up at him. “Sorry that I dropped it on you like this. I just couldn’t wait one second longer to tell you.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, gently running a large hand over her shining hair. “I’ve been bursting to tell you myself. I’d probably have cracked by tonight.”
“Wait, wait, wait ,” Zoe said; she’d been watching all of this in obvious delight, just enjoying the love and light and lust. “Is this the first time that you guys have told each other this?”
“Yep,” Viking said. “And you got a front-row seat.”
“Oh, wow,” Zoe said, strangely touched. “That’s incredible.”
Elle laughed. “Sorry, Zoe. I can’t help myself around this man, I swear.”
Just then, the parlour door opened and in walked a huge man with sky-blue eyes in a scarred, rugged face. He smiled at all of them, but those incredible eyes zeroed in on Zoe, stripping her naked where she stood, took her breath straight out of her lungs from twenty paces.
“Oh, girl,” Zoe said to Elle. “I know a thing or two about not being able to help myself around a man, believe me.”
“Hey, baby,” the man said in that voice that always made Zoe feel dark, desperate need, deep in her pussy and her heart. “How’s it going in here?”
“Almost done!” Elle said happily, seeing that Zoe had a glazed look on her face; Elle suspected that it was the exact same look that had prompted Viking to ask her if she was feeling dizzy. God knows that Zoe looked as though she’d been hit over the head with a heavy object. “Twenty minutes!”
Vic ‘Scars’ Innis nodded, walked over to the group, looking at Zoe the whole way. He was a man of few words at the best of times, but he didn’t need to use them to speak to Zoe on any and every level. She watched him approach, and as always, his strength just rolled on off him like a tidal wave, and Zoe wasn’t just thinking about his large, tight muscles.
From the first time that Zoe had met him in Satan’s Bar, she’d been taken aback and overwhelmed by the way that he moved with grace and power, but much more so by that something else that he had. It was something that she’d never encountered in the whole of her life, and which she still couldn’t give an actual name to: it was a strength of character, of personality, and it was as tangible as his hard, chiseled body. It was so real, that warrior strength and dignity that he possessed, and she wanted to be washed away by it and by him.
Always and forever washed away. No regrets and no second thoughts.
Scars was next to her now, and he lowered those wicked lips – lips that had been all over her body just a few hours earlier – and kissed her. Helplessly, Zoe responded. She was a tall woman, but she still got up on her toes to kiss her fiancé, feeling small and impossibly feminine next to him.
“Doing OK, honey?” Scars muttered against her lips. “Good day so far?”
Zoe nodded, her emerald-green eyes hot with the memory of how her day had started. Scars knew exactly what she was thinking, and he grinned down at her. His face was so gorgeous to her, all the time and everywhere, but she was still dazzled when he smiled. She barely saw his large, long scars at all anymore, but when he gave her that dazzling smile, they disappeared for her completely.
The scars on his face had been sustained when he’d tried to save his parents from a car accident that had killed them when Scars was nineteen. He’d managed to get his twelve-year-old brother Sam out of the car, and then had gone back to try to get his Mom and Dad – and he’d caught fire as he’d struggled to release them from their seatbelts. It had taken five grown men to drag Scars out of that car – seconds before it had exploded.
His whole body was covered in burns, she knew that intimately. The most recent ones were from him running into the old Blue Dragon Ink tattoo parlour to rescue Zoe’s daughter Keira from an explosion and a fire. Scars had saved Keira’s life – but he’d done so at a huge physical and emotional cost to himself. Not that he regretted it, not for one second, but it had been one hell of a road to recovery.
He was here , though. Here in one piece, so strong and loving. Her heart and her blood, her breath and soul. Her future husband. Her whole life.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said now, not even caring that she was blushing in front of him. She grinned over at Viking and Elle, seeing that they were as enraptured by her and Scars as she’d been by them just a minute before. “Great day, actually. These two just declared their love for each other for the first time, and I got to see it.”
“You don’t say,” Scars said, swinging his gaze over to the other couple. “About time, Callahan. Jesus, man, like you’d ever do better than our girl Elle here.”
“Speaking of which,” Viking said brightly, seeing a chance to needle his club Vice-President just a little bit. “When are you two going to get married? Me and the boys are planing the post-wedding party of the century, but we need a date, man.”
“Ooooh, yes,” Elle piped up. “I’m dying to help with the dress shopping, Zoe. I love wedding dresses.”
“Yeah,” Zoe said to Scars, cheerfully joining in. “When are we getting married, babe? I need to make sure I’m not working that day.”
“Sassy,” Scars growled and gave her a smack on her pert ass. “So I’m choosing the date, am I?”
“Well,” Zoe said. “I did propose to you, so I figure I’ve done the heavy lifting… the rest is up to you, handsome.”
“OK,” Scars said. “So – tomorrow?”
“Wh – what ?” Zoe stared up at him, completely shocked. “ Tomorrow ?”
“Yep. Tomorrow.” Scars narrowed those incredible eyes at her. “You busy?”
“I – I –” Zoe floundered madly. “But I haven’t – I’m not – I don’t have –”
“Just kidding, baby,” Scars said, taking pity on her. “But I have an idea for a wedding date, and I want to talk to you about it after you guys finish, OK?”
Zoe nodded, weirdly disappointed that she wasn’t marrying him tomorrow after all. She wasn’t a very traditional woman, after all, so she’d have been totally fine with an impromptu, quick-as-a-flash City Hall wedding, with her wearing jeans and holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
But she was actually surprised at how much she wanted her daughter to be her adorable little flower girl, and for Wolf to walk her down the aisle and give her away, and for Jo and Elle and Willa to be her bridesmaids and fuss over her dress and hair. She wanted to say her vows in front of The Road Devils MC, and for those rough men to witness her make a commitment to a whole life with their brother.
“OK, so!” Elle said brightly, delighted at the conversational turn that had taken place. “Let’s finish this tattoo, Zee, because I am dying to see it. I’ve had to fight to not look in the bathroom mirror every time I’ve gotten out of the shower for weeks now, and it’s starting to border on the impossible.”
“You got it.” Zoe settled back into her chair, nodded at Elle. “Let’s do this. God knows, you’ve waited long enough.”
Elle returned to her seat, sitting backwards on a chair with her arms crossed on its back, her chin on her delicate forearms. Viking was in his own chair facing her, his legs spread, his large thighs on either side of her. He’d been sitting like this for every session, his blue eyes trained on Elle’s face the whole time, cradling her with his body. He’d been there for every second of this experience, and he had noticed every wince of pain, every wrinkle of fatigue. He was relieved that this was almost over, he had to admit.
After all, he was a tattoo artist at Blue Dragon Ink too, and he knew that tattoos were open wounds on the body. God knows that Elle had had enough wounds to last her two lifetimes, so while this might be a good wound, in that the end result was going to be empowering and beautiful, Viking hoped that it was the last one that she’d ever have to suffer. He’d make it his personal mission to make sure it was the last.
The twenty minutes passed quickly and in near-total silence, as Zoe concentrated on her work, so absorbed that she almost disappeared into it. Scars sat quietly several feet away, watching her work, and Viking murmured to Elle a few times, telling her that she was doing great and it was minutes from being over. She smiled and nodded, and took a few deep breaths against the stinging pain of the needle.
Finally, finally , Zoe switched off the gun. In the silence, she cocked her blonde head left and right, wiped the area she’d just been working on, bit her plump lip. Then she said:
“We’re done, Elle. It’s done.”
Viking helped Elle to her feet and Zoe handed her a mirror, then positioned her so she could see the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall behind her.
“Go on, baby,” Viking said quietly. “Look at yourself.”
Elle took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds to remember the woman who had inspired this tattoo. As always, her first memory of Lily – one of Elle’s fellow woman-servants, back when she’d been Iris in Gideon’s Garden – was of Lily’s naked, twisted body. Her blue, twisted face. Swinging and fighting and dying in the noose, then still and grey and dead on the freezing basement floor.
But now Elle remembered Lily alive – all pink and blonde and blue, small and bright. She’d been truly beautiful, and although Elle had never known Lily’s real name, she’d decided on a tattoo to honour her sister-in-arms. Lily was the only thing from her time in the Garden that Elle was willing to bring into her new life, and she’d carry her with pride, with reverence.
Elle opened her eyes now, lifted the mirror, took a deep breath. And looked.
The pink lily across her back was lush and vibrant; she could almost catch the scent of its delicate petals as they unfurled. The leaves were a cool, dark green, the pollen was a warm gold. She looked hard, she really searched, but that ugly word that Gideon had inked into her back was hidden, it was gone, replaced by something breathtakingly lovely. Zoe had so cleverly used the lines and curves of those awful four letters to draw the petals and the leaves, and somehow she had completely covered over, erased, destroyed the word.
“Oh, God.” Elle’s eyes prickled with tears. “Zoe… it’s gorgeous. It’s perfect . Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Scars and Viking nodded silently as their women embraced, then watched as Zoe covered the tattoo with a thin layer of antibiotic ointment and plastic wrap. She smiled at Viking.
“OK, star employee of mine,” she said to him. “I’m charging you with all the aftercare, as usual. You know the drill, and there’s been zero reaction to infection so far, so I’ll trust you to carry this over the finish line.”
“You got it, boss.” Viking saluted smartly. “Now get over here, baby. Let’s get you dressed and home for a quiet night on the sofa.”
“With bad reality TV?” Elle said with a wince as Viking gently helped her into her oversized, button-down denim shirt. “And with Pringles?”
“ C’mon now, Elle,” Viking said. “You think I don’t have a few tubes of Pringles stashed around the house for you?”
“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”
“Because I feed your Pringles addiction?”
“Among other reasons. Many, many other reasons.”
They smiled at each other, a thousand words passing between them, then said goodbye to Scars and Zoe. Off they went, Elle held protectively against Viking’s massive frame.
Scars and Zoe looked at each other now.
“So,” Zoe said. She plunked back down in her chair, grabbed her water bottle again. “I think that we were supposed to talk about something… what was it… what was it?”
“Smart-ass,” Scars growled, sorry that she was sitting on the amazing ass so he couldn’t give it another smack. “Our wedding date, Zoe. I was thinking about it.”
“OK. Shoot, handsome.”
“I really want it in November, and I want to be married out at Open Skies Ranch. I’ve already called and they still have a weekend free. The owner Julie said that she’ll hold it for us, if we want it. She knows Cowboy, and he put in a good word for us.”
“Uh, OK.” She blinked at him, a bit taken aback at his vehemence. “I’m totally open to that, no problem for me. November, Halloween, next Christmas, at a ranch or in Vegas or standing on my head and wearing spangles in a circus ring… I’m going to show up whenever, wherever, for whatever, so long as you’re waiting for me when I get there. Is there some reason why you want it in November specifically?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “That’s the month that my parents got married.”
“Oh.” Right away, she got to her feet, came over and embraced him. His arms snaked around her waist and held tight, and she felt how much this meant to him. “Say no more, babe. November it is. We’ll make this happen.”
“Thank you. I just – I know they can’t be there, but they had such a great marriage, baby. So much love and laughter, so much joy , you know? Losing them at the same time was so goddamn hard , but a part of me has always been kind of grateful that they died together. If one of them had lost the other and had to go on without them – I don’t know, Zoe. I know the survivor would have carried on for me and Sam, but they’d have been mostly dead.” He sighed. “I just feel like – like it’s a lucky month for marriage, and it’s always meant the best kind of love to me, and this feels like a – like a way to have them there in spirit. Maybe it’s a bit of a way to honor them, too.”
“I get it, Scars, and I am totally on-board. Call Julie back, like right now . Tell her we’ll be there in November.” She kissed him on the top of his head, amazed that it was somehow possible to love this tough, tender man more with every single passing day. “I’ll be the one in the white dress.”