The North Star

by Wendy Cole

  “You think I enjoy making you uglier and uglier?” It was a different spot, but it was the same agonizing burn. It was too much. I lost the battle. My screams broke free and echoed out into the darkness.

  Drake chuckled. “I do love to hear you scream, though.”

  Again, harder than the last and right into the fresh ink. It was excruciating. Burning plastic wrap and flesh filled my nose, choking me. I screamed again, louder, so hard my throat could bleed.

  “Tequila!” Bard called out, distant, far away; too far away to help.

  “He can’t save you, you know. I’m going to kill him. Hell! I’m gonna kill all of them, and you’re going to watch. Maybe, I’ll even have you help.” Again, he burned right onto the healing tattoo. The sizzle was all too familiar, the pain too much. Another anguished scream ripped out of me.

  “Tequila!” Someone shook me.

  I woke with a start. Bard looked down at me with wide eyes and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

  I scrambled away from the offending item and backed into the far wall.

  Bard held up his hands. “It’s okay. You were having another nightmare.”

  His voice was soft, and he spoke to me how someone would coax a frightened animal.

  I eyed the cigarette, the dream still vivid. My mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that it wasn’t real. It had felt so real—everything, the pain. How couldn’t it have been real? I looked to my shoulder, and the ink was just as I’d left it; but there were no burns, nothing unusual. My hand drifted to my back but still found nothing.

  Bard studied me, taking in every motion. “It’s done, Tequila. We took care of it. No one is coming.”

  He moved closer.

  “No.” I jumped up and scrambled off the mattress, ran down the hall to the kitchen sink, then pulled the lever and splashed cool water onto my face.

  “Tequila…”

  “Stop.” I held a hand up without turning to look at him. “Don’t say they’re not coming because they are.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “You’re right.”

  I turned. Bard had his arms across his chest and shoulder leant against the door frame. It reminded me of the morning he caught me stealing his breakfast. His head had the same tilt, and his eyes had that same intensity, the same one that always seemed to take in way too much.

  “Are you ready?”

  The question caught me off guard, and it took a moment for me to answer.

  “For what?” He couldn’t mean the club. I’d never be ready for that.

  “Its eight. Shop opens at eleven. We’re gonna train for a couple hours.” He pushed himself away from the wall and walked towards me.

  “Train?”

  “Yes, I’m going to teach you how to fight, remember?” He was standing right in front of me now, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

  “Today? Are you serious? After everything…”

  Bard cut me off. “That’s all the more reason to start as soon as possible.”

  After a minute’s worth of thought, I nodded. He was right. At the very least, I could use a distraction. “Okay. Just let me change.”

  I watched him walk away before moving to grab a change of clothes and settled for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

  When I stepped outside, Bard was already waiting. His eyes landed on my legs, then slowly made their way up until his gaze met mine. His jaw clenched. “Why are you wearing that?”

  I looked down at my clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  He eyed my legs again. “Don’t you have anything... more,” he paused, “like jeans or something?”

  “All of my jeans are dirty,” I answered. “If you want, we can wait. I didn’t realize my legs frightened you so much.”

  Bard looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he pulled his hair back into a bun and in a gruff voice said, “Let’s get started then.”

  I smirked. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  He ignored me.

  “Stand here.” He pointed to the spot just in front of him, and I begrudgingly complied. “I’m going to attack you. You defend yourself.”

  I took in all six-foot five inches of him and lifted an eyebrow. “You do realize you are a fucking giant, right?”

  Once again, I was ignored.

  “Get ready.”

  I braced myself, waiting for his move. Bard slung an arm out so fast, I couldn’t even think about reacting. It came across my chest at the same time his leg swept behind my knees. His opposite arm cradled my back and lowered me gently to the ground.

  “That was awful,” he said, looking down at my defeated form lying on the dirt.

  I glared at him. “I wasn’t ready.”

  He held a hand out to me, but I ignored it and got myself up. I stood back in place and tried to push aside my wounded pride.

  “Okay, then you attack me.” Bard stood like he didn’t have a care in the world, arms hung loose at his sides and face impassive but for the slight tilt to his lips. It was so small, I couldn’t even be sure that it was there.

  Now he was just pissing me off.

  I needed to catch him off guard. It was the only way. He was gigantic. He probably tripled my body weight.

  “Any day, Tequila.”

  I swung at him.

  He ducked and grabbed my legs, his hands dangerously high up on my thighs.

  Electricity hit me like a lightning bolt, but before I knew it, the contact was gone, and I was, once again, back on the ground.

  Bard looked down at me. “That wasn’t any better.”

  I scrambled back to my feet. “Fine! What should I do then?”

  Bard smirked. “Well, first off, you shouldn’t stand like this.”

  He bent down in front of me and grabbed my legs. The feel of his familiar hands rough against my skin made it hard to focus on what he was showing me. He readjusted my stance.

  “You need to keep your legs apart, perpendicular to your opponents.” He cupped my calf and moved my leg over. His touch lingered a moment, and as he drew back, it felt more like a caress.

  I pretended not to notice.

  Bard stood and took both my wrists. “Keep your nondominant hand near your eye, your dominant hand near your chin.”

  He lifted my hands and positioned them like he’d indicated.

  All I could do was nod. My throat was too damn dry, and language was nothing more than a distant memory.

  Bard’s eyes stayed glued to mine for a long moment. His hands still held my wrists before he finally took a step back. “Now, I’m going to attack you, but I’ll let you know what I’m doing, and I’ll show you how you should react.”

  Another nod. Damn, I must look dumb. My cheeks were burning. God, I was blushing. I took a deep breath and tried to focus. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You don’t blush.

  “If someone comes at you like this, for instance,” Bard came towards me again, and he was close, too close, “you’re gonna grab my head and get a good grip on my hair.”

  I looked up and made a face at him. “You got a ladder?”

  He grinned. “You can reach.”

  I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and just managed to grab either side of his head. It put us even closer and forced me to have to stretch my body out flat against his.

  “Like this?” I asked, my voice low.

  Bard had me locked into those deep green eyes once again. They drilled into me, branded me.

  “Yes.” It was only one word, but the way he said it made it so much more than that. “Now, get a good grip and pull my head down,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  I did as he asked. My fingers dug into his hair. It was just as soft as I remembered. I pulled a little out of the bun and gripped it between my fingers before pulling him downwards.

  “That’s good,” he murmured. “Now, you’re gonna bring your leg up.” He cupped the back of my thigh, then slowly lifted my knee
towards his face. “You’ll pull down and lift that knee at the same time,” he said. He pulled it closer, so close his lips lightly brushed against my skin.

  I pulled away. “That seems easy.”

  My heart raced, and my stupid face felt ready to combust. I didn’t like it, any of it. Why did this man elicit such a strong response from me? I’d been around plenty of good-looking guys, tons of them. I always prided myself on the fact that I didn’t act like most girls.

  “It’s basic self-defense.” He straightened. “What you need to learn is a lot more than that.”

  “Okay, so what now?” I was almost reluctant to ask. I wanted to get away, give myself time to breathe and space to gather my resolve, but I needed to do this. Plus, it was a good distraction. I looked at Bard.

  Very distracting, inner Jessie purred.

  “Turn around. I’m going to attack you from behind.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I took a step back.

  Bard studied me. “It’s important. These are all basic things you need to learn.”

  I swallowed hard. There was no way for me to explain my unwillingness without also admitting my attraction. Not like he didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to admit how bad it was. I nodded and turned so my back was to him.

  Bard stepped up and wrapped both arms around me, one on my waist, the other on my chest. He rested his chin onto my left shoulder, and murmured, “When someone grabs you like this…” Goosebumps coated my skin. “You’re going to yank your arms free and put an elbow into their face.”

  His breath caressed the side of my neck. I was acutely aware of him—every hard plain and every muscle pressed against me. I stood there doing nothing, frozen.

  “Jessie,” he prompted, but the way he said my name only made the situation worse, “lift an elbow up as if to hit me in the face with it.”

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus before finally doing what he’d asked.

  Bard cupped my elbow gently. “That’s good.” His tone had deepened, even more so than usual.

  He made no move to back away, and I held my breath

  “Bard?” An unfamiliar voice called, and just like that, the spell was broken.

  Bard broke away, and we both turned at the same time.

  A woman stood a few feet away from us. Her hair was a shade of auburn too rich to be natural. She had a strong face, not masculine but defined. It spoke of finery even though her clothes spoke of the opposite.

  Bard tilted his head. “Amber?

  She smiled. “I’m sorry to show up like this, but,” her voice grew hoarse and cracked, “Daddy died.”

  The moment she spoke the words, Bard walked away, closed the gap between them, and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I shuffled my feet and chewed my bottom lip. It was an awkward feeling. One minute, I was on the verge of a hormone overload, and the next I was witnessing something that seemed a bit too personal. It was too intimate for me to just keep standing there gawking at Bard’s back.

  Should I go inside?

  Yes, idiot. You should go inside.

  I took a step back, then another, then…froze.

  Amber pulled back, eyes shiny with tears, but that wasn’t what made me pause. It was the way she looked up at him. It was not friendly, not in the least. Before I knew it, I was holding my breath. Suspicion rose up like steam around me, and I waited.

  “I couldn’t get ahold of you, so I just came. I needed you, Bard. I…I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice broke, and she cupped his face.

  Bard stood immobile as he stared down at her. I couldn’t see his face, and for once, I wished I could. I wished I could get a glimpse of those freaky eyes and see if they cut the same when they looked at her.

  But I didn’t need to.

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

  Motherfucker.

  I turned away and stormed inside.

  He had a fucking girlfriend.

  I didn’t need that kind of drama. I had enough of my own. That wasn’t me. Here he was, pursuing me like the devil himself, and all this time, he had a girl waiting for him. A better-looking girl. Hell, she looked ready to take on the whole wilderness with him. It was a match made in heaven.

  I hated her for it which was stupid. I couldn’t be jealous. In order to be jealous, you needed to want a man, and I definitely didn’t.

  Not me. Nope. No men. Singular entity. This was good. A good thing. Bard had a girlfriend, and no matter what had kept them apart, she was back now. She could occupy him. He wouldn’t be so focused on me.

  He could have a new distraction.

  A shower, that would be good. I just needed a shower. My chest felt tight. It was probably a pulled muscle. That must be it. I rubbed the area and took a deep breath. I pulled a muscle while we were fighting.

  The clock on the wall read ten o’clock. I had an hour to get ready. I get to tattoo. I clung to that thought, tried to focus solely on it and not on the murmured hush of voices I could hear coming from behind the RV.

  They dulled to nothing when I turned on the shower, and I tried not to think about it when I stepped inside. It didn’t matter. This was just proof that he was a man. He was just an ordinary asshole of a man, no different from any other. This was a blessing, an eye-opener before I took it too far.

  I stepped out, wrapped myself in a towel, then blow-dried my hair. I wanted to skip it, just go into the shop early, but regardless of my need to get away, I couldn’t walk in there my first day as an artist looking like a drowned rat. I needed clients. I needed people to want my work and come back for more.

  Once finished, I looked nice. It looked feathered, kind of. I left my hair down and put on the last clean outfit I had.

  It was another pair of shorts and a black tank top. I was thankful for the tank top. The still-healing tattoo was sensitive, and there was only so much sting a girl could take in one day.

  When I stepped out of the front door, Bard was getting into the Camaro.

  Amber already sat inside it.

  Oh, good. He was going with her. They were leaving together. That was great.

  He saw me and paused with his body only partly inside. “We’ll finish the lesson later?” he asked, his eyes taking in my hair before resting on my face.

  I noticed Amber’s expression and fought back a cringe. “I think I’m going to ask Zeke to show me. You said he helped teach you, right?”

  Bard’s jawbone jumped. He started towards me, but Amber said something that pulled his attention back to her.

  His jaw clenched again. “We’ll talk about it later.” He climbed the rest of the way inside and revved the engine to life.

  I offered him a tight-lipped smile. No, we wouldn’t. There was nothing to talk about. If he thought for one minute he could dip his hands in my cookie jar when he had a cake waiting in the fridge, he had another damn thing coming. Hell, my cookies weren’t even available. My cookies were burnt, hard, and more suitable for the trash.

  Why the hell was I standing here thinking about cookies!

  Work. I needed get my ass to work and do what it was I was there for.

  I made a beeline for the shop, and once inside, found Zeke standing at the counter. I rushed towards him.

  “I’m ready to start tattooing,” I said, but the tone I used would have been more suitable if I was robbing the place. I cleared my throat. “I mean, I’m ready.”

  Zeke cocked an eyebrow at me, then pointed to the station between his and Scarlet’s. “Your station.”

  I nodded and walked the few steps to sit on my stool. “How long usually before people start coming in?”

  “Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Zeke copied my movements and took a seat on his own chair. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “How you feelin’?”

  I studied the concern in his expression. I killed a man the night before. You’d think that would have been enough to keep my mind away fr
om other far less important things.

  “I’m okay.” It was true. I was as good as I’d ever been which was shit, but it wasn’t anything new to me. It was just another fucking disaster to add to the many others.

  “If you need to talk about it,” he kept his voice low, “you can come to me. Killing a man does things to a person’s mind.”

  He spoke like someone with experience, and I remembered the story he’d told me on my first day.

  I gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  Zeke patted my shoulder just as the doorbell chimed.

  Boe walked in, his beard freshly trimmed and hair pulled tight at the back of his head. In a fitted white t-shirt and dark blue jeans, the man was enough to make any woman turn her head. He’d taken some time today; put in some effort.

  I narrowed my eyes. Why?

  His attention centered on me. “I’m first.”

  “First what?”

  “I want a tattoo.”

  I swallowed hard as he pulled himself up onto the table and leaned forward, his smile wide. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

  Zeke snorted and turned his back to the both of us.

  Boe’s grin turned cat-like as his gaze shifted to his lap, then not-so-subtly over his shoulder at Zeke. When he looked back at me, he bit his lip.

  “I was thinking something old school.” He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head without a moment’s pause.

  Damn.

  He was all man. I’d give him that much. Not an ounce of fat. But while Bard and Zeke carried mounds of muscle, Boe was all sinew: sleek lines, clear skin, and beautiful art that only worked to enhance what he already had.

  “Across my chest.” He motioned to the spot just above his heart. His smile dwindled into something less roguish and more sad. “A heart with the word mom above it. A little blue jay. My mama always liked those.”

  Damn.

  People who cherished their mothers always appealed to me, perhaps because I never had one.

  “Alright.” I turned away and started sketching.

  The table creaked behind me as Boe got more comfortable. I could practically feel his eyes burning a hole into my back. He said old school. That meant clean lines with a clip art style. It looked basic in its simplicity, but it was one of the hardest things to do. I had to be precise. I had to keep a steady hand.