Chapter Twenty-Six – Deacon
I didn’t know if this was a good idea. I honestly didn’t, but Priest seemed so sure of it, so confident, that it kind of rubbed off on me. And on Bishop, if what we were doing was any indication.
Angel was gone, visiting her friend at her college. We’d wrapped up our tour not so long ago, and Angel had officially signed on to become a permanent member of Black Sacrament. The tour was a huge success; we saw numbers we’d never dreamed of seeing, and there were fans online already clamoring for us to do another, to come to their hometowns and perform.
So many new fans. So many more people with eyes on us. We really had to be careful from now on, otherwise our identities wouldn’t be secret any more.
But that was beside the point. Angel was gone, so we were doing something that would be a surprise for her. It involved the tattooist signing an NDA, but from what our manager said, he was used to tattooing famous people and being forced to sign papers saying he wouldn’t talk to the press or share details on social media.
Yep. Tattoos. We were all getting matching tattoos. It took us a while to find the right spot for them on our bodies; we wanted them to match in every way possible. Plus, it had to be in an area that wasn’t public when we were out and about. Priest having so many goddamned tattoos on his chest made it a lot harder.
So we went with back tattoos. Black Sacrament’s new logo—part of the rebrand—a black, upside-down cross with white angel wings behind it, along with the first letter of our names. P for Priest was at the bottom of the cross. D was on the left side, and B was on the right. A, obviously for Angel, was on the top.
Or, uh, on the bottom, depending on how you looked at it.
But, anyway, matching tattoos with a little extra flare, a secret we’d been keeping from Angel for a few weeks while we decided on the design and got everything ready. A few inches long, right in the center of our backs.
Would you believe it was my first tattoo? Priest and Pope were tatted up to the extreme. Bishop didn’t have any, either. I’d never wanted one. I thought they were cool, but I just never got one for myself.
That changed today, though, and let me just say, right on the spine? Yeah, that kind of hurt.
Priest got his done first, and that meant when it was time for Bishop and me to get ours done, he was watching with a smirk and saying things along the lines of Don’t be a baby and Just wait until it starts itching like a motherfucker.
To which my only response was: “Tattoos itch?” That was news to me. Guess I never really paid much attention to Priest when he got his, because I had no idea tattoos itched.
And, according to Priest, they itched something fierce.
I could handle the itching that would come. This was more of a gesture for Angel, anyway, to show her that we were serious about this. About us, about our future together. Even after all this time, I think she was still worried that we’d want to end this—our relationship, kick her out of Black Sacrament—so getting these tattoos would be a sign to her that we would never do something like that.
We couldn’t.
She was ours. She made everything easier. I couldn’t speak for the others, but the only reason I hadn’t quit the band myself was because of her. I was where I was right now because of Angel. As Priest liked to say, our Angel.
The damned tattoo appointment took all day. We had to skip lunch, so when it was all said and done, we grabbed lunch on the way back to the Redborne.
We’d asked if Angel wanted to move into a different building after her kidnapping, but she’d said no. As traumatic as that experience had been, I think catching Ramona in her plot had helped to soothe the wounds, so to speak.
It was as we were getting off the elevator and heading to our suite that Bishop rolled his shoulders and said, “Man, I think I’m already starting to itch.” He was holding onto the bag with our lunch—McDonald’s, because Priest was feeling the need for some of their, and I quote, ‘Delicious, golden fries.’
Priest chuckled as he pulled out the room key. “Just wait. It’s only going to get worse. And once it starts peeling—”
Bishop stopped in his tracks, his hazel eyes widening. “Peeling? It’s going to peel ? You never said anything about that—”
“It’s a tattoo. I thought you knew this already. You’ve seen me get a thousand.” Priest smirked, unable to hold in his amusement. “It’s a wound, you know, all wounds peel once they scab over. That’s what makes them so itchy—” He unlocked the door and was the first in the suite, but he abruptly stopped talking.
And, obviously, that meant something was wrong.
Bishop and I walked in behind him, and that’s when we saw what was wrong. Or, rather, the person standing in the kitchen, getting herself something to drink.
“Angel?” Bishop spoke, nearly dropping our lunch to the floor. “But—aren’t you supposed to be home tomorrow?”
Our white-haired beauty turned around, a smile on her face as she sipped from her glass. Just water, by the look of it. She wore a baggy hoodie along with leggings, but still, never had I seen a more gorgeous sight.
“My ticket home was today. I wanted to come home early and surprise you,” she said, setting down her glass. “I—” She was going to say more, but I went straight for her, pulled her into my arms, and planted a hard kiss on those sweet lips.
A full week away from her was absolutely miserable.
It was like she came to life as I kissed her, and she hummed into me. By the time I pulled my mouth off hers, she was smiling at me. She gazed up at me and whispered, “Hey, Deacon. I missed you.”
“I missed you—” I could hardly get the words out, because Priest pushed me aside to sweep her in his arms, twirl her around, and lay his own kiss on her.
“I missed you more,” Priest spoke against her lips, causing her to giggle.
“And I,” Bishop paused as he set our lunch down on the island, “missed you the most.” His kiss to Angel was chaste compared to Priest’s. “I wish you would’ve told us. We would’ve got you lunch.”
Priest was fast to say, “You can have Deacon’s.”
“Hey,” I hissed out. Not that I was against sharing anything of mine with Angel—I wasn’t—it’s more that Priest offered her my food instead of his. The asshole.
But Angel shook her head and said, “No, that’s okay. I bought you guys some stuff.” She gestured for us to go with her, and she took her glass of water as she led the way to her room, where her luggage sat on her bed, open but still full of clothes.
And new bags with the college logo on it.
After setting the glass on her nightstand, she went to pull out the bags one by one. She peeked inside to see what lie within, and then she handed it to the new respective owner. We each got one.
“It’s nothing special, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to get you guys something.” Angel kicked her foot on the floor. “I missed you guys so much, you don’t even understand.”
Oh, I think we had a pretty clear idea.
She’d gotten us each a T-shirt and a hoodie. Black, of course, with the college logo on the front and the words on the back. The fabric was softer than you’d think it would be.
“Well?” Angel climbed onto her bed and spun around, leaning her back against the headboard. “Aren’t you going to try them on and give me a little fashion show?” As she spoke the suggestion, her full lips curled into a smile.
The guys and I looked at each other. I had no problems giving her what she wanted—odds were that fashion show would lead to something else, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed the feel of her body under mine this past week .
But we had fresh tattoos to think about. Right now, they were bandaged up with a thick layer of some kind of jelly on it—in no shape to be seen by Angel just yet.
“How about,” Priest was the one who spoke, “we give you a fashion show tomorrow, hmm? Deacon can cook us dinner and dessert, too.” Once again offering my services. Not that I minded, but come on.
The smile she wore faded, and she glanced between each of us, finally realizing something was up. “Where were you guys? Why are you acting weird?”
Bishop echoed, “Weird? We’re not acting weird. Nobody here is acting weird.”
“He’s right,” Priest said, nodding along. He motioned for us to leave her bedroom, taking a step back as he did so. “And because nobody is acting weird, we’re going to leave and not take our clothes off right now.”
“What?” The look on her face told me she didn’t understand. “What are you guys doing? Why won’t you tell me where you were?”
“It’s a secret” was all I said, and then we ducked out of the room with our newly-gotten college merch.
I guess I was going to cook a fantastic meal tomorrow, where we’d reveal our little surprise to Angel. Hmm. I wondered if, maybe, we should show her more than the tattoos. It’d been long enough, hadn’t it?
Once we were a respectable distance away from Angel’s room, I told Bishop and Priest my idea. Mainly Priest, because she already knew Bishop’s.
We’d show her the tattoos, and then we’d tell her our real names.