Oliver
We step inside the tattoo shop I spent an obscene amount of money on, making sure it was closed for the night—just for us.
No way was I letting Lyra get her first tattoo and have strangers hover over her while she sat exposed.
I also demanded that a woman do her piercing and the tattoo she wanted.
Yes, I understand it might be going too far.
I don’t care. No other man touches her. Family doesn’t count. Callan is under review.
The shop, tucked into the darker end of Portland, is known as one of the best. Hence, the thousands I shelled out. Does Lyra know that? No. She wouldn’t be pleased. She already thinks I’m controlling enough.
“Hi,” Lyra says, practically vibrating with energy as she bounds up to the front desk.
I scowl when I spot a heavily tattooed man standing behind it, around our age. He looks at her for a second too long, then at me and grins. I narrow my eyes on him.
“I’m here to get a tattoo,” Lyra announces.
I step in behind her and wrap my arm around her small waist, pulling her into me. “She’s also getting a piercing,” I add.
“Ahh.” His grin turns knowing. “The guy who requested the whole shop and a female artist.”
I don’t blink. “Yep.”
Lyra’s eyes are burning into me. It takes everything in me to keep the grin off my face.
“I’ll get Rivers.” He disappears into the back.
The second he’s gone, Lyra rounds on me, poking my chest with one sharp painted fingernail. “You are crazy.”
Poke. “A female? God, could you not be so controlling?”
Poke. “It’s their job, Oliver. They aren’t here to claim me, like someone I know.”
She goes for another jab, but I catch her wrist, tugging her flush to me. “I don’t want other hands on you.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” A throat clears.
Rivers. She looks young, calm, and unbothered by what she’s witnessing.
“Hi, sweets! I’m Rivers.” She pulls Lyra into a hug like they’re old friends.
Lyra looks confused for a second, then smiles and hugs her back. “Hi! I’m Lyra.”
Rivers steps back. “Do you have an idea of what you want?”
“Yes,” Lyra says, “but I don’t want him knowing, so…” She leans in, whispering something in Rivers’s ear.
I narrow my eyes at the exchange.
Rivers’s smile widens. “Got it.”
She turns to me. “What about you? Want one?”
“I do. But I need a guy to do it. Only fair.”
Rivers snorts. “No worries there. I’d much rather touch your girlfriend than you anyway.”
She said what? Fucking hell. Lyra bursts into laughter. I frown. I really don’t like this turn of events.
Two hours later, Lyra walks out of the back room. She refused to let me in—said she wants it to be a surprise. Her new nose hoop matches mine.
“Twins.” She points to her small nose adorned with a gold hoop.
There’s a fresh bite mark on her neck, dark and rising. I stare at it. An idea is forming. I’ve never thought about inking my skin. Something so permanent always felt suffocating. But now? Now it’s perfect because I know exactly what it’ll mean.
“Can I see now?” I cross my arms over my chest.
She licks her lips and slides off her coat. I freeze. Not because of the tattoo. I haven’t even looked at it yet, my eyes glued to a naked fucking Lyra from the waist up. No shirt. No bra.
“Fuck, Lyra!” I grit out, glancing around the shop, ensuring that guy isn’t here.
Thankfully, the blinds are down. I’m going to have to get Archer to delete the camera footage.
When I’m done checking, I drag a hand through my hair.
She’s going to kill me. I should have always known it would be the other way around.
“Do you like it?” She bats her long lashes.
That’s when I look. A black-shaded fountain, inked between her breasts, anchored on her sternum. Thin and delicate. Below it, in thin cursive script: Dollface.
My name for her. My claim. My Dollface. Etched into her skin. Forever.
Right there. Right fucking there is when the last wall around my heart breaks. Fucking shatters at her feet. And Lyra takes what’s left of it. Before her, I didn’t know I could feel love. Or anything that wasn’t sharp or cold. But in this moment, with her body inked just for me…
“The first time you called me Dollface, we were sitting at the fountain in the courtyard,” she says softly.
“I love you,” I say. Her eyes turn glassy. I step forward, wrapping her back in the coat she dropped.
“This stays on until we’re alone.” I zip it up to her neck. “We don’t know where that guy went.” I brush a finger across the bridge of her nose.
“Sorry to interrupt again,” Rivers says, reappearing, “but you’re up.”
I nod. Grab Lyra’s hand. And lead her back with me.