Chapter 1 #2
“Sick,” he said, anything but dissuaded from his terrible decision. I didn’t offer to hold his hand. Not only did I know the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated, but this appointment also pretty much confirmed a thought that had been circulating through my head for a while.
“Okay, back on the table,” she said. “If you need me to stop for breaks, let me know. Otherwise, this should be pretty straightforward.” She pulled on her latex gloves in two swift moves that shouldn’t have been as hot as they were.
“What’s the pain level like?” I craned my neck to watch as she pieced her tattoo gun together.
To be honest, the pain wasn’t what had kept me from coming here; more the fact that I had a hard time making decisions and sorting through what I wanted compared to what other people did. Clear because I still dated Kevin.
“A lot of people describe it as a bee sting ache,” she said. “If you’ve got a decent pain tolerance, it’s more annoying. Higher pain tolerance, it probably won’t bother you much at all.”
“Shouldn’t be an issue for me, then,” Kevin said.
The tattoo gun buzzed, and Nyx dipped the tip in the black. Kevin wasn’t a massive dude, so the words shouldn’t take a four-hour sitting or anything. It was a simplistic black script, but excitement thrummed through me at getting the chance to watch Nyx in action.
She leaned forward and drew the first line.
“Oh, fuck,” Kevin cried. “That’s brutal.”
I didn’t hold back my eye roll. Nyx’s lips quirked at the side; she’d obviously been expecting this too.
“Buckle up,” Nyx said. “We’re not even in the rough parts.
” She continued to trace the lines of the Gothic lettering, which I presumed she’d fill in later.
Watching her work was entrancing, even with the godawful noises coming from Kevin.
She sucked her lush lower lip in her mouth as she focused on line after line, those dark eyes intense in a way that made my pussy throb.
Being the recipient of her undivided attention—fuck, I couldn’t even imagine.
Every couple of minutes, she’d pause to wipe the blood away from the surface, the same deftness to her motions I used during surgery on an animal. The precision was admirable, and all too easily, I could fantasize about the precision applied in other areas.
Fuck, down, girl. I wasn’t even single, and I should feel guiltier than I did for the thoughts emerging.
A steady stream of owws came from Kevin in various forms, interspersed with the buzz of the tattoo gun.
We didn’t chat, but I didn’t mind the quiet.
Watching her work was soothing, seeing the art develop on the skin, even if the art, in this case, was a poor design choice.
She’d pass me a look, a quick grin, and those brief moments of acknowledgment hit me deeper than the last time I’d had sex with Kevin, which hadn’t been for a while.
Fuck. If only I’d met her in different circumstances.
A do-over, where instead of my boyfriend on the table, it was me, and I was single.
Where she leaned over me with intense concentration, our bodies in close proximity. Her breath puffing against my back. Her eyes penetrating past my skin, breaking me open.
I swallowed hard, and my whole body was on fire.
God, yeah, I would fantasize hard tonight. She pulled the tattoo gun back and glanced at me. My cheeks heated. Could she tell what filthy thoughts had been parading through my head? She cracked a grin, the hint of wickedness there my undoing.
“We’re going to take a quick break,” Nyx said.
“It sounds like you could use it.” She’d outlined the words, so the rest of the session was probably filling in the rest of the black.
A sweat had broken out on Kevin’s back, and when he turned over, the pallor on his face suggested he was about to vomit.
“Bathroom’s out by the front,” Nyx said.
Kevin grunted and pushed up. He raced out of the room at top speed.
“So, your boyfriend’s not the pain type, I take it?” She wiped down some of the surfaces.
The word boyfriend grated at me. “Apparently. Though I’ll admit, I want one more than ever now.”
“What’s stopping you?” She leaned against the counter, all casual-like, so fucking chill my knees went weak. The vest was fucking working for her, highlighting her shapely hips in those jeans.
“I’m shit at making up my mind about anything.” I tugged on a strand of my hair.
Nyx shook her head. “So many people think a tattoo has to mean something significant, but it really fucking doesn’t.” She pointed to the Gothic castle. “This is Bran Castle because I’m obsessed with Dracula. Not because of some deep-rooted significance in my life.”
“It’s gorgeous.” I took a step closer.
She held out her forearm for examination, and I dove at the chance.
I swept my fingertips down her forearm. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and the proximity alone made my blood heat.
My heart thudded hard. Damn, I missed this.
Actual chemistry instead of fumbling through one date after another.
The linework was detailed and lush and almost as pretty to look at as she was. “Who did this one?”
“Owen,” she said with a wry grin. “He’s the shop owner and talented as fuck. So if you had to get a tattoo of a random interest, what would it be?”
Guh, to admit it or not?
I squeezed my nape. “Probably something monster movie-related.”
Nyx lifted her brows. “Well, damn, I didn’t expect that.”
“Why? Because I’m blonde and like pink dresses?” My current ensemble was a cute pink-and-white-checkered one, and I styled my hair and did my makeup on the regular. Since I wore scrubs for work and was usually covered in animal shit and vomit, I loved the chance to express myself.
“That’s on me,” she said. “I should know better than to judge by appearances. But if you wanted a monster movie tattoo, I can tell you now there’d be some phenomenal art and designs we could work with. If you want, I can send you some artists.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, my voice going flirty. “Sneaking in with the hard sell.”
“Mm, doesn’t look like it’d be so hard.” The heated eye scan and cocky grin from her turned me to goo. Ngh.
Kevin burst into the room, shattering the moment to pieces. “Okay, I’m ready for the rest of this. You should warn people how much that hurts.”
Nyx passed me a look and didn’t justify him with a response. Kevin flopped back onto the table, and Nyx shifted into professional mode once more. I settled into the seat, my body humming almost as loud as the tattoo gun. Goddamn, I was obsessed with her.
She worked a little faster as if she sensed Kevin didn’t have much left in him.
Still, her lines were neat and her moves efficient as she filled in one letter after the next.
Time dripped away as I watched her work, her grace mesmerizing.
Of course Kevin howled the whole time because clearly, he had a “high pain tolerance.”
I savored every second of sitting beside her, the smell of the cleaner in the room blending with the whiff of spice that wafted my way.
This close, my skin vibrated with awareness, a feeling I’d been missing for a long damn time.
She had this little habit of chewing on her lower lip while she concentrated, and the urge to taste her amped up higher and higher.
And the clarity of what I needed to do when Kevin and I left settled in loud and clear.
It had been what I’d needed to do for a while now.
She finished filling in the last letter, sprayed it down, and wiped off the residual blood. When she pulled back, she looked at the script and shook her head. Kevin wouldn’t have caught the movement, but I could and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“All right,” she said. “We’re done. Want to get a look at it?”
“Thank fuck,” Kevin said. “Let me see.”
She grabbed the long mirror and held it up behind him. He twisted around, and a grin broke out on his face. There in all its glory was No Regrets in Gothic font—big, in your face, and the furthest thing from classy.
Well, I was glad he liked it at least.
“Babe, you couldn’t manage this,” he said to me. “Good thing I was the one getting tattooed, not you.”
My jaw tensed, and I didn’t bother to correct him.
All the words I’d swallowed back bubbled to the surface, but I could wait until we were out and he’d paid.
Nyx watched us, her eyebrow lifted as if she was waiting for me to put him in his place.
Fuck, she probably thought I was a pushover.
And truthfully, I was a little. But even I shouldn’t have let this relationship go on this long.
“Let me go over the aftercare instructions with you,” she said. As she launched into the spiel, I zoned out. My irritation with Kevin, which had been growing and growing over the past few weeks—months even—had reached a boiling point.
“Come on, babe.” Kevin jarred me to the present. “It’s time to leave.”
Slowly I stood and took a step, but my feet gave resistance. I wanted to stay here with Nyx and pick her brain about tattoos, about her love for Dracula, about whether she liked girls like I hoped she did.
Except I needed to do something first.
Before I could follow, Nyx slipped beside me and pressed something into my palm.
“If you guys ever break up, give me a call.” Her voice was low and throaty, and the spark in her eyes—well, fuck.
Apparently, she liked girls.
Specifically me.
Heat rushed through my body, and I looked at the business card with a number jotted down.
“Thanks,” I said. The rest of the words I wanted to say dried on my tongue.
While I might drag my heels on breakups, I wasn’t about to cheat.
If my mind wandered, I was clearly over this relationship, and I needed to do the right thing.
I gave Nyx a nod and bolted out of the room to catch up with Kevin.
He stood at the front counter, where the same guy from before was ringing him up.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kevin said. “I want to go to the bar to show the guys.”
My heart thudded hard as I followed him out of the shop.
I cast a glance at the front of Alchemy Ink as if it could help bolster me for what I was about to do.
I stopped by our cars in the parking lot.
Breaking up with people made my skin crawl, and the idea of the hurt on his face that was about to arrive made me feel a little nauseous. However, I’d been stalling long enough.
“Meet you at Fun Guy?” he asked.
“Kevin, I’m not going.” I leaned against my car.
He shrugged. “That’s on you. You could use a little more fun in your life, though. You’re boring as fuck sometimes.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Kid gloves were coming off.
“Since you have no regrets, this shouldn’t be tough for you. I’m breaking up with you.”
Kevin’s brows drew together. “What the fuck, Becky? Who’s going to wash my tattoo?”
Holy fuck.
An incredulous laugh escaped me. “Better figure that one out yourself. Categorizing that as not my problem.”
Kevin crossed his arms over his chest and winced. “You were a lousy lay anyway.”
I lifted a brow. “At least one of us came.”
It fucking hadn’t been me.
Kevin let out a huff. “Whatever. I’ve got somewhere to be.” With that, he yanked open his car door and shut it with a slam. A second later, he was peeling out of the parking lot.
Damn, good fucking riddance.
I stared at the card in my palm. The temptation to walk back inside and chat Nyx up reared high, but I needed some time. My breakup wasn’t even two seconds old, and I wanted to go home and tell Bast all about the news. She would be so smug about being right about him. I owed her some fresh tuna.
The sign for Alchemy Ink felt like a harbinger of change, the sort I could sink my teeth into.
I should be mourning the end of a relationship, but instead, a shiver rolled down my spine.
I’d entered the tattoo shop beaten down, but upon emerging, I hadn’t just gained a spine but also a new perspective.
Because Kevin’s tattoo had taught me something beyond what not to get tattooed. I sure as fuck didn’t want regrets.