Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
BEX
The familiar jingle of the bell greets me like an old friend as I push through the door of the tattoo shop, a wave of warmth hitting me as I step inside. Music pulses low from the speakers, machines buzzing and the air smelling of disinfectant and fresh ink.
It immediately feels like home.
Devin’s at his station, hunched over a beefy dude’s arm with his tattoo gun firmly in his grip.
The guy looks barely conscious, which is probably just as well given the full-color demon sleeve taking shape on his bicep.
Ronnie’s perched on a stool at his own station, lining up a row of fresh ink pots.
He glances up as I enter, the bright overhead lights reflecting off his bald head.
“There she is,” he calls, whistling at me.
Devin looks up, a grin splitting his face. “Look what the cat dragged in. I thought you were, like, dead or something.”
The joke hits a little closer to home than he realizes.
“Not yet,” I quip, heading straight for my station.
It’s been a while, but everything’s exactly where I left it. My stools, my supplies, my sketches taped to the wall around my mirror. A strange little pang hits me at the sight of it, equal parts nostalgia and relief.
Before I can dwell on it, Ronnie rises from his stool, stretches, and jerks his head toward the curtain at the back of the shop. “Bex, come chat with me for a sec.”
His tone is casual, but my stomach still does a nervous little swoop, like I’m being called to the principal’s office.
I glance at Devin, and he winks at me over his client’s shoulder, mouthing ‘good luck’.
I flip him off, then follow Ronnie through the curtain separating the main floor from the back of the shop, where the tidy aesthetic out front gives way to organized chaos. Shelves line the walls, stacked with boxes of supplies, the chemical tang of soap and bleach even stronger back here.
Ronnie gestures to a battered metal stool, then moves to lean against the shelf opposite it, folding his inked arms across his chest.
I don’t sit. Instead, I prop a foot on the lower bar of the stool, crossing my arms to mirror him. “What’s up?”
He exhales through his nose, gaze dropping briefly to the floor. “Listen, Bex,” he starts, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I owe you an apology.”
Well.
That wasn’t what I was expecting.
My arms loosen slightly. “For?”
“For how things went down last time you were here.” He looks up at me, mouth flattening into a grim line. “I was pissed. Worried, mostly, but pissed too. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Ronnie…”
“Let me finish.”
I press my lips together and mime zipping them shut.
He stares me down for a beat before continuing. “I meant what I said about worrying about you. But I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t welcome here.”
Something in my chest softens.
“You are,” he says. “Anytime.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I glance down, scuffing the toe of my boot against the floor. “I appreciate that.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” I lift my gaze back to his. “I just… have a lot going on in my personal life right now.”
Understatement of the fucking century.
Turns out, the vampire I’ve been sleeping with may be my supernatural soulmate. He almost killed me, I spent nearly two days unconscious, then I found out he’d been stalking me for months and let him bite me again anyway.
Oh, and now I might have the option of living forever.
You know.
Personal stuff.
“Hey, your personal life is none of my concern,” Ronnie says, holding up both palms. “Just don’t bring it into my shop.
A little knot of guilt twists beneath my ribs. “I won’t.”
“And no more vamps in here, either. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Promise,” I say with a firm nod.
“Alright, we’re good then.” He pushes off from the shelf, a lopsided grin pulling at his mouth. “Things haven’t been the same around here without you, kid.”
The knot in my chest loosens, a smile breaking across my face. I tilt my head, batting my lashes at him sweetly. “Aww. You’ve missed me, ya big ol’ softie.”
He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh. “Something like that.”
My grin widens. I kick the stool away and cross the distance between us, throwing my arms around his neck. “Thanks, Ronnie,” I coo, smacking a kiss on his bearded cheek.
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, grabbing my forearms and peeling me off him. “Get out there and set up your station. Client will be here soon.”
“Yes sir!” I chirp, giving him a mock salute before spinning on a heel and pushing back through the curtain.
Devin’s just finishing up with his client, peeling off his gloves while the guy admires the angry red lines of his new tattoo in the mirror. I return to my station and start setting up while he pays Devin and heads out, the bell jingling with his exit.
A minute later, Ronnie emerges from the back and reclaims his station beside mine.
“Did this Mike guy say what he wanted?” I ask him, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant and spraying down my counter.
Ronnie shrugs. “Eight-inch piece on his chest. Said he’d be bringing in a few photos for ya.”
I heave a sigh as I wipe down the surface. Last-minute custom jobs are the fucking worst, especially when the client shows up with a handful of random reference photos and no clue what they actually want.
“If the design phase takes longer than an hour, I’m charging him double,” I grumble.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Devin heckles from the sink as he scrubs ink from his hands.
I flip him off again, and he returns the gesture with both hands.
The bell over the door chimes, and all three of us glance toward it, my hand stopping mid-swipe.
A pair of amber eyes locks onto mine from across the shop, and every muscle in my body locks up. My pulse takes off like a rocket, the bottle of disinfectant slipping from my fingers and hitting the floor with a hollow clatter.
No.
I blink hard, hoping like hell I’m hallucinating, but no dice.
Vincent looks exactly as I remember him. Tall, immaculately dressed, and eerily composed. He hovers near the door with that distinctly vampiric stillness that somehow feels more threatening than movement.
Of all the fucking nights.
I literally just promised Ronnie I wouldn’t bring any more vamps into his shop, and now…
Well, it just fucking figures, doesn’t it? Can’t I have one goddamn second of peace?
For a suspended, tortuous moment, nobody moves.
Then Ronnie pivots toward our unwelcome visitor, his entire demeanor changing as recognition sets in. His shoulders square, jaw tightening as he points toward the door.
“Nuh uh, not again. Out.”
Vincent cocks his head, lips pulling back from his teeth in a wolfish grin. “But I’m a paying customer.”
“The fuck you are,” Ronnie scoffs.
Vincent’s attention slips past him and settles on me again, his smile sharpening. “I have an appointment with Bex here.”
My stomach drops.
I fold my arms over my chest, trying to look tough despite the way my heartbeat’s pounding harder with each shaky breath. “You go by Mike now?”
His smirk deepens, and a cold shiver slides down my spine.
“Leave,” I huff.
“No, I don’t think I will,” he drawls, inclining his chin. “Not until I get what I came here for.”
I arch a brow, clinging to sarcasm because I absolutely refuse to let him see how badly he’s rattled me. “A tattoo?”
“No. You.”
Before I can respond, Ronnie comes around my station and plants himself directly in front of me, blocking Vincent’s path.
“You heard her,” he snarls, pointing at the door again. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”
Vincent sighs, shaking his head condescendingly. “You humans make everything unnecessarily difficult.”
The air shifts as he moves with a burst of vampire speed– not toward me, but the person nearest to him. A blur streaks through my peripheral vision, then a startled yelp tears from Devin’s throat.
I whip around to see Vincent’s fist tangled in Devin’s hair, gripping the back of his head and wrenching it sideways at a sickening angle. Devin goes rigid, his face contorting in pain as both hands fly instinctively to Vincent’s wrist.
My blood turns to ice, fear tightening my throat like a noose.
“Don’t,” I breathe.
Vincent stares me down in challenge. “Then come with me.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud it drowns out the music still playing through the shop’s speakers. “Let him go.”
“Come here, and I will.”
“Bex, don’t,” Ronnie growls under his breath.
Vincent tightens his grip, and Devin makes a strangled sound through clenched teeth as his neck stretches another fraction, my stomach curling in on itself.
“I could remove his head before either of you took a single step,” Vincent says calmly. “Would you like to test that?”
The image flashes through my mind before I can stop it.
Blood. Bone. Devin’s lifeless body hitting the floor.
I’ve been around enough vampires to know that Vincent isn’t bluffing. Human life is largely inconsequential to them– they’ll take it in an instant, consequences be damned.
“No,” I huff, pushing past Ronnie.
“Bex!” he barks.
“It’s fine.”
It isn’t.
Not even fucking close.
But when Devin’s terrified eyes find mine, I know what I have to do. There isn’t any other choice but to stop this madness and force myself to put one foot in front of the other.
My hands are shaking, so I curl them into fists and keep them pinned at my sides as I cross the shop. Every instinct I possess is screaming at me to run in the opposite direction, but I keep moving until only a few feet of distance separate us.
Vincent grins like the smug bastard he is.
I fucking hate him.
He waits until I’m close, then releases Devin with a violent shove. His body slams into the wall hard enough to rattle the framed artwork above him, a pained grunt punching from his throat as he crumples sideways.
Relief hits me so hard it’s dizzying.
Then Vincent reaches for me.