Chapter 9 Caelan
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Caelan
Everything was going according to plan.
I replayed the morning in my mind as I walked toward Ink & Iron late in the evening: Riley’s face when she saw the signed book, the way her eyes went soft.
The way she said “I love it” like she meant more than the words.
The way she let me into her home, her space, her morning.
Let me sit at her tiny table and eat pastries as she shared a small piece of herself.
Real, measurable progress. Thessa would be proud. She’d also mock me relentlessly, but she’d be proud underneath the mockery.
I’d done my research on this tattoo shop.
Investigated all three of the men who worked there.
Dom, the owner, ex-military, did two tours overseas before settling in Lysmont and opening the shop.
Marco, his cousin, former construction worker, built like a bear and covered in his own artwork.
Vinnie, trained under Dom for five years, had a Pomeranian named Brutus and a weakness for poker.
More importantly: all three of them were protective of Riley. They watched out for her, kept an eye on her comings and goings, escorted her to her door when she needed it.
Despite my fucking jealousy, I approved.
I pushed open the door to the tattoo shop, the bell chiming overhead. Dom was behind the counter, reading on his phone. Marco was at a station, cleaning equipment with precision. Vinnie was sprawled on a leather couch, scrolling through his phone with his feet up.
“Help you?” Dom asked, sizing me up.
“I’d like a tattoo.”
“What kind?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I’d written the word in my own handwriting, careful letters. I handed it to Dom.
Dom looked at the paper. Looked at me. Looked at the paper again.
“Riley,” he read aloud.
Marco and Vinnie’s heads swiveled toward us like predators sensing prey.
“That’s a name,” Marco observed.
“Yes.”
“A woman’s name.”
“Yes.”
“You want a woman’s name tattooed on you.” Dom set the paper down. “Where?”
“Upper thigh. Front side.”
The three men exchanged the kind of look that said “we’re about to witness either the most romantic thing ever or a spectacular disaster.”
“How long have you known this Riley?” Dom asked.
“Two weeks.”
Silence.
Then Marco started laughing. Not meanly, more like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Vinnie joined in, and even Dom’s lips twitched.
“Son,” Dom said, shaking his head, “I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I’ve seen a lot of stupid decisions walk through that door. This might be top five.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?”
I thought about Riley’s laugh, the way she scrunched her nose when she was thinking, the way she looked at me in the lake like she was seeing someone worth looking at.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
Dom studied me for a long moment, then he shrugged. “Your body, your choice. Hop on the chair. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”
I settled into the tattoo chair, ready to endure whatever pain was coming. Riley’s name on my skin felt right, necessary.
When the tattoo needle bit into my thigh, I gritted my teeth against the pain.
In Duskmere, we numbed the skin before tattooing, it was considered civilized. Humans apparently preferred to suffer for their art. The needle dragged across my flesh, each line burning, and I focused on breathing through it.
“So,” Dom said conversationally, not looking up from his work, “this Riley. She know you’re getting her name permanently etched into your body?”
“Not yet.”
“Planning to surprise her?”
“Yes.”
Marco snorted from his station. “Bold strategy.”
“She must be real special,” Vinnie offered from the couch. “For you to go this crazy after two weeks.”
“She is.” I watched the outline of the letters taking shape on my thigh, the R, the I, the careful curve of the L. “She’s everything.”
“That’s sweet,” Vinnie said. “Stupid, but sweet.”
“You got any other tattoos?” Dom asked, and I could tell he was genuinely curious. “These look professional.”
“Several. Got them back home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Far away.”
“Helpful.” Dom’s tone was dry. “What are they of?”
“Family history. Achievements. Things that matter.”
“And a woman’s name you’ve known two weeks fits in with family history?”
“Yes.”
Dom shook his head but kept working. The needle buzzed, pain lancing through my thigh with each stroke. It was nothing compared to some injuries I’d received in Duskmere. This mattered more than any mark I’d ever received.
“We know a Riley, actually,” Marco said eventually, tone casual. “Lives right upstairs.”
I kept my face carefully neutral. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Sweet girl. Writer. Bit of a disaster, but in a charming way.” Marco was watching me now, eyes keen despite the casual tone. “Bad luck with men, though.”
“Bad luck how?”
“Her ex.” Dom’s voice darkened. “Damien Cross. Real piece of shit. Literary agent or some shit. Shows up here sometimes, banging on her door, sometimes drunk. We have to go up and convince him to leave, if you know what I mean.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
The needle paused, Dom looked up. “You okay there? You just went tense as hell.”
“Fine.” The word came out clipped. Cold. “Tell me about this ex.”
Marco and Dom exchanged another look. Vinnie sat up on the couch, suddenly alert.
“Not much to tell,” Marco said slowly. “Typical controlling asshole. Took her money, messed with her head. Had her convinced she couldn’t do anything without him. We thought she was finally rid of him, but he still shows up sometimes. Less often now. Last time was maybe a month ago.”
“And you handle it.” It wasn’t a question. “Has he ever hurt her?”
Silence.
“She has bruises sometimes,” Vinnie said quietly. “On her arms. Her wrists. She says she’s clumsy.”
“She’s not clumsy,” Marco added. “We’ve watched her navigate a crowded room carrying six wine glasses without spilling a drop. She’s graceful as hell.”
The room had gone very still. I realized my claws had extended slightly, pressing against my fingertips. I forced them back, breathing through the rage that wanted to consume me.
Dom was watching me carefully now. Really watching. His eyes narrowed, tracking the shift in my expression.
“Hold up,” he said slowly. He set down the tattoo gun. “Wait a goddamn minute.”
“What?” Marco asked.
“I’m putting pieces together here. Give me a second.” Dom pointed at me. “Tall. Blonde. Foreign accent. Intense stare. Shows up out of nowhere a couple weeks ago.”
“Okay...”
“Sloane mentioned him, after that book club thing. Said some huge blonde Australian guy crashed the meeting, remember?” Dom’s eyes widened. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
I said nothing, my jaw was clenched too tight for words.
“Holy shit,” Vinnie said, sitting up straighter. “You’re the Australian?”
“The one who allegedly growled at some guy for talking to her?” Marco added.
Still nothing.
“The one who showed up with an annotated copy of her book?” Vinnie was grinning now. “With color-coded sticky notes?”
“And now you’re here,” Dom said, voice flat, “getting her name tattooed on your thigh. Our Riley. The one who lives directly above us.” He gestured at the ceiling. “That Riley.”
The silence stretched.
“Is it that obvious?” I finally asked.
All three of them burst out laughing.
“Brother,” Marco wheezed, “you walked into her building, asked for a tattoo of a woman’s name, and didn’t think we’d figure it out?”
“I was hoping for discretion.”
“You’re getting RILEY tattooed on your thigh. In the building where RILEY lives. From RILEY’s friends.” Dom was grinning now. “Discretion was never on the table.”
“In your defense,” Vinnie said, still chuckling, “you probably didn’t know we knew her when you walked in.”
“I knew.” I admitted.
They all stared at me.
“You knew we know her,” Marco said slowly, “and you still came here to get her name on your body. Forever.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you protect her.” The words came out before I could stop them. “You watch out for her.” I met Dom’s eyes. “I wanted to meet the men who do that. I wanted to know if they were trustworthy.”
Another silence, this one different.
“You were testing us,” Dom said. “Even though we should be the ones testing you.”
Marco leaned back in his chair. “So what’s the verdict? We pass your evaluation?”
“Yes.”
“And if we hadn’t?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Whatever showed in my expression was enough, because all three men went very still.
“Right,” Vinnie said quietly. “Good thing we passed, then. You pass our vibe check as well. If you do anything to her, we now know your face. We will kick the shit out of you, dude.”
I nodded. “Fair.”
“She talked about you,” Marco added after a moment, and I went still. “After that book club night. She smiled when she did, the first real smile I’ve seen from her in months.”
My chest ached.
“You’re getting her name tattooed on your thigh,” Dom said, “because you’re in love with her. That’s the deal, right?”
“Yes.”
“Most people would call that crazy.”
“I’m aware.”
Dom nodded slowly. Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping low. “Don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough shit with that Damien asshole. She deserves better.”
“I won’t hurt her.” It came out like a vow. Like an oath sworn before the Moon Goddess herself. “And neither will anyone else. Not anymore.”
“That so?”
“That’s so.”
The three men exchanged another look. “Alright then,” Dom said finally. “Let me finish this tattoo.”
Dom was finishing the final letter when I felt it.
A tug in my chest, a warmth spreading through my veins. The mate bond, the connection between us, flaring to life with a very strong emotion: arousal.
Riley was aroused.
My entire body went rigid on the table.
“You okay?” Dom asked, pausing the needle again.
“Fine.” My voice sounded strangled even to my own ears. “Muscle cramp.”