Chapter Four
Mara
————————
It’s been four days since he was in my apartment, and yet, I can still sense him everywhere, as though he never left.
Today is my first day back at work since I found the box in my kitchen, I’ve ignored Jace’s calls, messages, he even tried to turn up at my apartment, I didn’t answer the door.
I walk into the studio, tote bag slung over my shoulder and my helmet dangling from my right hand, Jace looks up from his iPad and his eyes widen.
“Christ I thought you’d been kidnapped! I was one more day away from filing a report!” He scolds me without actually scolding me, I sit down on the couch and flash him an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, I had things to wrap my head around.” I speak quietly, as though in fear of my shadow listening.
“There was a guy looking to get booked in with you today, I noted his number down, its on the fridge, said I’d get you to call him.” He nods towards the fridge, I stand and walk over, taking the post it note from the refrigerator door and tapping the number into my phone.
He answers after the first two rings.
“Yeah.” One word, a familiar voice and my body stops mid step, its him.
“Hi, this is Mara calling from Heathens, my colleague took down your number said you were looking to get booked in for a session today?” I try to keep my voice steady and by some miracle succeed. I can hear a shift in his voice when he responds, I’ve got you, you bastard.
“Yeah, I was hoping to swing by today if you have some free time?” He replies, a test.
“I’m here all day, make your way down when you’re ready.” I say curtly, hanging up shortly after.
I open the fridge door and scan the contents “Right who drank my monsters?” I call out, no one responds, typical.
I mumble as I grab my tote bag and stride towards the door.
“If my client shows up let him know I just ran to the store down the street and I wont be long.”
I head out of the door and start walking, scanning my surroundings as I weave through the pedestrians that walk far too slowly on the sidewalk, internally cussing each and every slow motherfucker out.
I stock up on goodies, some for me, some for my client, grab a crate of monsters and some red bulls in case he doesn’t like monster and make my way back to the studio, the familiar setting comes into view and I sling open the door, nudging it with my hip so I can shuffle inside, before I can look up from the step, hands are outstretched in front of me “Let me help.” That voice again… Smoke and bourbon, I look up.
I don’t know what I expected when the mask finally came off. Something monstrous, maybe. Something sharp and cruel to match the way he moves through the world. But the second I see his face, really see it, something inside me stutters.
He’s… unfair.
Not polished, pretty, not the kind of handsome you see in magazines.
He’s the kind of beautiful that feels accidental, the kind that hits harder because he doesn’t seem to care about it.
His features are all sharp lines and quiet tension, a jaw that looks carved rather than grown, cheekbones that catch the light in a way that shouldn’t be legal.
His hair falls over his forehead in dark, careless strands, softening the severity of everything else.
But it’s his eyes that undo me.
Silver.
Clear. Focused in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar, too much.
I’ve seen those eyes before. Not like this, not unobstructed, but I’ve felt them on me. In alleys. On sidewalks. In reflections. In the dark.
Seeing them without the mask feels like being hit with a memory I can’t quite grab, a recognition without context.
My stomach drops, my pulse jumps, and I hate that my body reacts before my brain can catch up.
He thinks I don’t know who he is. He thinks the mask kept him hidden. He thinks this is the first time I’m seeing him.
But I know. Not logically, not in a way I can explain.
I know in the way my breath catches, the way my skin prickles, in the way something low in my stomach tightens like it’s been waiting for this.
This is the man who stepped out of the shadows for me. The man who moved with impossible speed. The man whose presence I felt long before I ever saw his face.
“Thanks.” I mutter as I hand over the crates, I place the grocery bags on the island and begin unpacking them “I wasn’t sure what kind of snacks you’d like so I took a wild guess.” I glance up at him again, noticing his eyes that never leave my form, smoke and silver that is always watching.
I clear my throat and grab my iPad “What were we thinking of getting done today?” I take a seat on the couch, bouncing slightly as I sit too fast, I grab a can of monster from the crate and crack it open instantly taking a long gulp, an appreciative hum escapes my throat.
“I saw your flash sheets, this one.” He holds up his phone and scrolls to the photo of the vial of teeth, I furrow my eyebrows and look up at him, a small smirk is on his face.
The asshole knows I know, and he’s enjoying every second of it.
“Good choice.” I mumble as I print the stencil “Where are you thinking of getting this done? It’s not like you have much room left.
” I chuckle slightly, he shrugs off his hoodie revealing arms absolutely corded with muscle, ink wrapping around his forearms and moving up to his shoulders, his neck, he removes his t-shirt and points to a blank area on his chest, just above his heart “Here.”
I narrow my eyes at him as I gesture to the chair, he stands, stretching out slightly before sitting down “Can I get you anything before we get started?” I smile far too sweetly at him
“Depends, what you offering?” He quips back, my mouth pops open
“One of those would be good” he points to my can of monster, I nod and grab him one, placing it beside him. I make my way over and cut slits into the stencil so it fits on his chest better.
I lean over him to apply the stencil transfer, his hand ghosting across my stomach, sending an electric current through my body, I silently curse myself for choosing a cropped t-shirt this morning.
I peel off the stencil and double check to see if any changes need to be made I grab a mirror for him “Happy with the placement?” I ask once again with the obnoxiously sweet tone.
He tilts his head at me, silver eyes locked onto me, shaking it slightly before responding “Perfect.” something tells me he wasn’t talking about the stencil placement.
Around ten minutes later the familiar buzz of my tattoo gun fills the air, stilling my nerves and quieting my mind, I trace the outline of the stencil, fighting the urge to just apply a little more pressure to make him feel the sting of the needle forcing ink into his skin, his eyes are on me the entire time as I ink the line-work into his skin.
“You doing okay?” I look up at him for a moment to check in.
“I’m doing fine.”
I nod and continue, switching the line work needle out for a shading needle. I dilute the black ink slightly to give the shading a slightly lighter hue, mimicking the gift he left for me in my apartment perfectly, practically a carbon copy.
Once I finish the tattoo I stand, stretching out my spine, groaning as the ache from hunching over his body settles into my back.
“Are you alright?” He questions
“Occupational hazard.”
“You need a massage.”“I need a steam roller to give me a once over.” A laugh, a genuine laugh comes from him, I find my mouth popping open in shock.
I can’t help but laugh with him, the feeling so normal in comparison to how I have felt with him in my presence previously.
I apply the cleaning solution to his arm and wipe it clean “I’m sure you don’t need me to explain aftercare to you.” I say bluntly, but a teasing undertone to my words, knowing full well his mind will go to the same place that his does.
“I think I’ve got that part down, thanks.” He deadpans in response, but I can see the humor lighting up in his eyes.
“I’m sure you do.” The smirk he returns floors me, I find myself transfixed for a moment before my brain catches up and I notice Jace staring from across the room, pen frozen in his hand and a shit eating grin on his face.
I give Jace a look that if it could kill he’d be six feet under and shake my head, a silent ‘don’t you fucking dare’.
My shadow produces a large stack of cash from his pocket and places it in my hand
“No absolutely not, take that back. Your tattoo costs one hundred, not one thousand.” I bite at him, offended by the over extravagant tip he offers.
“Take the damn tip Bunny.” He whispers quietly enough for only me to hear it, my heart thunders in my chest at the pet name, I hold my ground, take one hundred from the stack and lean in close, sliding the money back into his jeans pocket.
His eyes follow my hand, his breath hitching slightly. I pull back and smile at him.
“Thanks for coming in today, don’t be a stranger.” I turn and walk away, ducking into the office, once the door shuts I lean against the wall, loosing a breath that I had been holding for god knows how long.
What the fuck was that.
Kade
————————
She’s getting brave, too brave, testing me like she thinks she understands the rules of this thing between us. Like she thinks she can poke at the edges without waking the part of me she should be terrified of.
I stand there in the middle of the studio, staring at the door she slipped through, pulse pounding in my ears. Every instinct in me is screaming to follow her. To close the distance. To make her look at me the way she did a moment ago, startled, breathless, caught.
Not with him here. Not with an audience.
I’d tear him apart for witnessing what she does to me.
He smirks from the couch, clueless and too bold for his own good. “Dude, I won’t say anything if you follow her. Chase that tension. Hell, I’ll step out for the afternoon.”
I don’t even blink. “Get the fuck out then.”
He laughs like it’s a joke, grabs his backpack, and leaves. The second the door shuts, I lock it. The click is final, permission, a line crossed.
I cross the room in a few strides.