38. LACEY #2
I barely registered the motion of the car slowing until Rory was at the door again, holding it open. Before I could ask where we were, Nik whisked me out into the cool night air.
The sharp scent of disinfectant hit my nose just before I caught sight of the flickering neon sign.
A tattoo parlor.
At this hour?
I blinked up at the glowing glass and back at Nik, who was already pushing the door open like he owned the place.
“Nik?” I asked warily, stumbling slightly in my heels.
“Come on, wife,” he said without explanation.
Inside, the place was all black leather and silver fixtures. Clean and sterile. A man behind the counter looked up from his sketchbook and grinned.
“Joey Baranski,” Nik told me by way of introduction. “Best hands in Manhattan. Tattooed my right ribcage a few weeks ago. Remind me never to let you do script on a cracked rib again.”
Joey barked a laugh. “That wasn’t my idea, Volkov. You’re the one who wanted a little lamb across your lungs.”
My attention snapped from Joey to Nik.
Nik smirked, then pulled up something on his phone and handed it over. Joey looked at it, whistled low under his breath, and nodded.
“Give me five. Room two.” With that, he disappeared down the hallway.
I turned to Nik slowly. “Wait. Are you getting a tattoo? Is this some kind of wedding ritual I’ve never heard of?”
His eyes glittered. “Something like that.”
When Joey called us back, Nik guided me through the narrow corridor and into a room glowing with high-powered LED lights. It smelled of alcohol wipes and antiseptic.
I paused.
Nik didn’t.
He lifted my left hand with reverence and slid the platinum ring from my finger.
“Hey—”
“Relax.” He moved it to my right hand. “You’ll get to move it back in a few days. Once it heals.”
He kissed the top of my hand, then offered it to Joey like he was handing over something precious.
It took me a second to realize what was happening.
“Wait, I— I’m getting the tattoo?”
“You’re mine now,” Nik said simply. “And I don’t do temporary.”
I could barely feel the cool swipe of alcohol over my ring finger. My entire body was numb, shell-shocked, still reeling from the wedding, from the kiss, from everything.
Then the buzzing started.
Joey leaned in. “Don’t move.”
The drone of the machine vibrated through me as a fine cluster of needles sank into my skin, and I flinched—but only for a moment. The pain wasn’t sharp, more like a slow burn…a dragging ache. My pulse slowed as the machine continued to hum.
I watched, transfixed, as a crown formed—a delicate black band encircling the base of my finger like something plucked from a storybook.
It was dainty, with intricate points twined in rope-like detail.
Encircled by the crown were two interlocking initials—V and O.
Volkov and Oakley, forever fused, Nik explained.
Just when I thought he was finished, Joey turned my hand and shifted my finger gently. He said in a low voice, “This part’s going to suck.”
He positioned the needle at the inner base of my finger and started again.
The pain became searing, traveling up to my knuckle. My throat tightened. My eyes stung.
Nik stepped close, watching me like a hawk. When I swayed, he caught my chin, tilted it up, and kissed me.
Hard and deep.
A distraction. A reward.
He pulled back just as Joey finished.
When my eyes stopped watering enough for me to see, I made out the words: Till Death Us Do Part .
“Jesus,” Joey muttered. “She looks like she might hit the floor.”
Nik helped me to a side chair after Joey wrapped my finger in plastic wrap. While I was grateful it was over, it still hurt like hell.
Joey handed me a plastic cup filled with orange juice, and I drank it like it was the last drink on earth.
Nik kneeled in front of me. “You did so well, my lovely wife. Your first tattoo…on your wedding night. A virgin to ink, a bride to a sinner. There’s something holy about taking what no one else has ever had.”
I didn’t speak. Just stared at him, and then at the ring on the wrong hand.
He stood.
“My turn.”
Leaning in, I watched as Joey inked a crown onto Nik’s finger.
It was similar to mine but heavier, bolder.
A king’s crown. It was still marked with the V and the O, still encircled by the same twisted ropes and knotted base.
When Joey inked the sacred wedding vow inside his finger, Nik didn’t even flinch.
Actually, it looked as if he liked it.
When it was all over, I was still woozy, blinking slowly and feeling thick.
Nik didn’t hesitate; he scooped me up bridal-style and carried me to the car.
He slid in with me on his lap, pulling his arm tight around my waist.
“You were a good girl,” he murmured. “Didn’t even argue.”
I swallowed hard.
“Shame,” he added darkly, brushing his mouth against my temple. “I had a punishment in mind.”
My breath caught.
“Guess I’ll have to reward you instead. And you know what good girls get.”
A jolt of heat shot through me—spine to toes.
I didn’t know what the hell was coming next.
But I knew I wanted it.