by Deanna Chase
My pencils are on the other side of the door. That driving force is getting stronger. I don’t think I can turn around now even if I want to. I grab the handle and twist, waiting for the panic to set in. It always does.
But this time, with the sheets of rain obscuring the view and my mind on the charcoal, it doesn’t come. Not even when I walk to the center of the room and eye the oil paintings lined up against the wall.
They’re all there. The last dozen or so E and I worked on. Flashbacks of her standing in this room, a paintbrush in her hands, her long blond hair piled into a loose knot on her head as she laughs at her own jokes, filter through my mind. That joy I’d always felt with her around slams into me. I let the emotion fill me up, reveling in the long-forgotten state of being. This used to be my life, so full of hope and wonder. Now the room is dank and dusty, holding everything I loved about her locked away.
All too soon, the soul-crushing ache I’d lived with the last eighteen months takes over, knowing the person who made me whole was gone. Those long days of creating together, bringing something meaningful to not only ourselves but the world around us, had vanished that awful night.
Why?
The question haunts me now just as it had then. There is no answer. There’s only silence.
I blink, and the visions of her are wiped away, leaving me in the dark room as the wind blows, rattling the glass. Why am I here?
The charcoal. Lucy. It should feel wrong to be in this space while my mind is on another lover, but it doesn’t. Instead, the urge to sketch grows. If only those portraits weren’t staring at me. The ones still waiting for a few minor finishes. The ones they’d never get now.
I move mechanically to a shelf full of supplies and pull out a drape. I should have covered them long ago, if for nothing else other than to preserve the art against the sun. Once I have the drape in place, the memories of E dim, and Lucy’s image fills my mind again.
The image of her standing on the stage, feet shoulder-width apart as she sings seductively into the mic, fights with the one of her eyeing me shyly in the truck when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
My easel lies abandoned on the floor, knocked over in a drunken rage the last time I’d ventured up here. Now I bend and pick it up, positioning it in the corner so all I have to look at while working is the rain splattering on the glass. I rip a handful of damaged sheets off the sketchpad, wadding them up as I go. Once I have a fresh, unmarred surface, my hand closes around the charcoal and I begin to sketch.
The world fades away, and all I hear is the splatter of raindrops mixed with the faint sound of the pencil against the paper. It’s soothing as my creative self takes over, seeing only Lucy and the angles of her body, the striking intelligence shining through those eyes and the hidden vulnerability. It’s that above everything else that draws me to her. The sheen of strength masking all the emotions underneath.
Time ticks away as I fill half a dozen sheets with various poses, all ones my mind has been locking away for just this moment, I realize. She’s become my muse, the one I can’t walk away from. What’s happening to me right now isn’t the same as what E and I had. Together, we’d brought magic to a piece; it came alive under our ministrations, revealing something to the subject. No, this is revealing what’s inside me through a subject. In a way, it’s almost more personal. It’s raw and though it’s her image, it’s all about what’s going on inside me.
A dam breaks, and my walls come crashing down. I’m all in, adding stroke after stroke, shading and erasing, pouring myself into this piece in a way I can’t with my tattoos. It’s freeing and also terrifying because I don’t know if I can go back.
But for now, I just draw.
***
Hours later, with over a dozen sketches hung around the room, my hand begins to cramp. I know if I don’t stop, I won’t be able to work tomorrow, so even though I’d rather stay up all night in the sunroom, I put my charcoals away and step back.
Pleasure seeps into all those broken crevices inside me. I created something. Something just for me. It’s not for anyone. It’s an expression of what I feel in this moment. My heart thumps a little faster. I’m alive for the first time since I lost E.
And it’s thanks to Lucy.
The overwhelming urge to see her takes over. Should I call? Head over to her house? The rain is still battering our town. I shouldn’t go anywhere, but I’m afraid if I call I’ll only hang up utterly frustrated. After spending the afternoon and the evening with her image in my head, I want her. Want to experience her gentle yet demanding touch, see her smile, hear her soft laugh as her breath tickles my neck.
Hell. I’m hard just thinking about her. I pull my phone out and send her a text.
Would you mind company?
My phone buzzes a few moments later, but it’s not Lucy. It’s Tish.
Your appointment is finally here… five hours late. Want to take it? Or should I send him home?
I glance at the clock. It’s eight p.m. The shop closes at nine. My first thought is to tell her to send him packing. But then my rational mind takes over. It’s December, not exactly a high-traffic season, and a job is a job. I could use the cash.
I’ll be there in less than ten.
Fine.
I take a moment to wash the charcoal remains from my hands, then grab a raincoat and head on back to the shop. The street is empty with only the lights of the tattoo parlor and the coffee shop glowing in the night. After stopping in for a latte, I jog up the street and slip into the shop, ready to work.
“Hey, Tish,” I say. “Did Mike already leave?”
“Ten minutes ago when he found out you were coming back.”
I nod and glance around. “Where’s my appointment?”
“Bathroom.” She grins. “Wait until you see who it is.”
“Who?” I ask as I settle in at my station.
She shakes her head. “You’ll see.”
I roll my eyes and check my phone. Lucy still hasn’t answered. I glance at the storm brewing outside and start to worry. No, she’s at home where I left her. She’s probably just not near her phone. If I still haven’t heard from her by the time I’m done, I’ll give her a call to be sure she’s okay. Right. That’s why I’ll call. Not because I’m aching to see her. No, not at all.
“Hey, man.”
I lift my head and have to fight back a scowl. Shit. Cadan Kinx. What the fuck is he doing here? I keep my expression neutral and nod to the chair. What I really want to do is throw his ass out, but he hasn’t done anything to me and we have bills to pay. “Hey.”
“Sorry I’m late. I had some business to take care of.” He gives me that million-dollar smile he no doubt uses on all his groupies. The ones he’s busy banging instead of hanging out with his girl. Ex-girl that is. What a fucking loser.
“It’s fine. Did you have something in mind?” I ask.
He nods and pulls out a piece of paper with a crude sketch of a dragon. “I know it’s rough, but judging by the piece on your arm, I’m guessing you can turn this into something badass.”
I narrow my eyes at the dragon spiraling around my arm. “I didn’t ink that.”
“Sure, sure. That makes sense. But you can do something with it, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ll need a little time to work it up. We might be able to get the outline drawn, but we don’t have enough time to finish tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What if I pay you double?”
“Sorry,” I say without even considering it. “I’ve got somewhere I have to be.” I don’t, but I plan on being at Lucy’s. Or at the very least, making sure she’s all right with this douche hanging around.
He raises his hands in mock defeat. “Okay. I’ll be in town a few days anyway. We can finish tomorrow, right?”
I give a noncommittal shrug. The idea of working on this guy makes my skin crawl. It shouldn’t. He’s done nothing to me. It’s because of what he’s done to Lucy. After today’s work sessio
n, I’m feeling more territorial than I had after we’d spent the night together. I can’t explain it, but it’s as if I’m connected to her in some way. Not like with E, not in the magical sense. No, this is something else on a pure primal level.
I get up and walk to Mike’s station, pretending to look for supplies. I need to get away from Kinx before I say something I’ll regret. Their relationship isn’t any of my business, no matter how much I’m starting to realize I want it to be. Twenty-four hours ago, my life had been uncomplicated and void of all emotion.
Now Lucy has changed everything.
I turn back to Kinx. “Where is this going to go?”
“Right here.” He thumps his chest over his heart.
Great. Now I have to stare at his ugly ass half-naked. “Take off your shirt,” I order.
After discussing size and placement, I grab a fine-point Sharpie and go to work, turning his crap drawing into something that doesn’t suck ass. Ten minutes later, I’m ready to get started.
“Hold on a sec,” he says. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
I sit back in my chair, my fist clenched around the tattoo gun. I grab my own phone. Nothing. Not even a text from Jax. I send her one asking if she’s surviving.
The phone buzzes back almost immediately. I’m alive, but feel like a total bitch. Have you spoken to Lucy?
I type back. No. Why?
She called a few times but I didn’t answer. Now I can’t get a hold of her.
I frown and type back. Kinx is still in town.
WHAT???
He’s at my shop now. I dropped Lucy at home hours ago. She should be there.
I’ll keep trying.
I want to ask her to let me know Lucy is okay, but I don’t. She’ll only ask questions I don’t know how to answer.
The phone buzzes again. Call me as soon as he leaves.
Will do.
Kinx strolls back over with a frown on his face. I’d heard him talking, but hadn’t been able to make out the words. Had he been speaking to Lucy? If so, it hadn’t gone well.
“Let’s get this started,” he says, all of his charm gone. “I have to meet someone after.”
I lay the transfer of the dragon over his chest and then peel it away. He studies it in a handheld mirror. “Make it vibrant, all right?”
“Sure.” I grind my teeth and go to work.
From the way Kinx sits back in his chair, relaxed, you’d think he’s an old pro at this, but I don’t see evidence of a tattoo anywhere else. At least not on his upper body. Usually I love working on a new, blank canvas, but I can’t stand touching Kinx. I’m jumpy, and after a while, the gun almost slips from my hand.
“Dude,” Kinx says with a scowl. “What’s up?”
“Sorry, man. Long day.”
He glances at it. “Oh, yeah. Before you’re done, I want initials on the tips of the wings.”
I freeze. “What?”
His lips turn up into a slow shit-eating grin. “L and C.”
Fuck! Their initials. He means this to be a soul mate mark. One to tell the world he’s taken. And he wants me to do it. I put the gun down. “That’s something you should have told me before we started.”
“I’m telling you now.”
Cocky bastard. There is no fucking way I’m finishing this. “Sorry, too late.”
He stands and walks over to a large mirror on the wall. “No it isn’t. There’s plenty of space.” He strides back and sits down. “Put them on.”
Anger shoots through my veins. I’d managed to keep it at bay while I was focusing, but the impulse to kick the shit out of him is back. I’d gotten a fair amount done. The entire outline of the dragon plus his face and wings are done in detail. It still needs to be colored in, though. There is room for the letters. But I’ll be damned if I do it.
“It’s late,” I say and stand. “You’ll need to get it finished another time.”
“Dude. I’m not leaving until you ink the initials.”
I finish cleaning up my station. “You’re going to be here a while then.”
“What the fuck, man? I’m not paying for this until it’s done.”
“Fine.” He owes me a few hundred at this point, but fuck the money. I wouldn’t take it from him if I were starving.
He glares at me while I wrap his skin with ointment and a bandage. “What time are you available to finish this tomorrow?”
“I’m not.”
“But I’m leaving town. You have to fit me in.”
“No. I don’t.” Entitled little bitch. “You didn’t make an appointment. Find someone else.”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I’m positive he’s going to take a swing. But then he stalks to the door, and just before he walks out, he says, “Stay the fuck away from her.”
Chapter 16
Seth
“What?” I snap, more pissed than ever. The sick son of a bitch set this up. He’d come to me on purpose.
His eyes narrow. “I know she spent the night with you. This is a small town. Word gets out. This”—he points to his chest—“is to let you both know who she belongs to.”
My entire body tenses. “Lucy doesn’t belong to anyone, least of all not some chickenshit singer who can’t even write his own songs.”
He closes the distance between us. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kinx says, his eyes aflame with crazy-like rage. He leans forward, his jaw jutting out.
“You heard me.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s pretty fucked up to steal a song she wrote about her dead father. That’s shitty low.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He’s vibrating with the urge to beat the shit out of me, but for some reason he holds back.
Too bad. I’m dying to rough up that pretty boy face of his. “Maybe you should leave.”
“Fuck you.” His eyes flash with pure hatred. “Lucy will never leave me. I know all about you and your mate. It didn’t take more than ten minutes on the Internet to put the pieces together. I bet you wish you’d never taken a drink that night. What will Lucy say when she finds out?”
On reflex, I reach out and grab him by the shirt, dragging him to me. “Don’t ever talk to me about E.”
“You must hate yourself.” He nods sympathetically, not fighting my hold at all. “I would, too.”
I yank him closer, his face so close to mine I can see his pupils dilate. My entire being longs to crush him.
“Do it,” he taunts. “Take a swing.”
His words bring me back to myself. He’s not worth it. I push him backward. “Get out.”
He gives me a self-satisfied smile, straightens his shirt, and strolls out into the darkness. I close the door, lock it, and slump down into one of the hard plastic chairs. “Fuck.”
“Holy shit,” Tish says softly.
I jerk my head up, having completely forgotten she was there.
“That was Cadan Kinx.” Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock and excitement.
I let out a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“And you had a thing with his soul mate.” She raises her hand to her mouth, giddy with the gossip.
“Tish,” I say as I stand, “do me a favor and keep this all to yourself, all right? Lucy’s had a rough few months with losing her dad and all. This drama is the last thing she needs.”
Disappointment crosses her face, and not for the first time, I wonder how I ever ended up sleeping with such a shallow person. My stomach turns at the thought. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “I can do that.”
“Good. It’s late. You can go on home.”
She grabs her purse, and for the first time since the night we’d spent together, she doesn’t try to manipulate me into a late-night invitation back to my place. At least that’s one good thing to come out of all of this.
I lock the door behind her and immediately call Jax.
She picks up on the first ring. “Tell me everything.”
“You first,” I say.
“Have you heard from her?”
“No. I can’t get her to pick up.”
“Fuck.”
“Seth, what’s happening?” Worry seeps through her tone.
“Kinx was here to get a tattoo. I was pretty far into it when he decided to tell me he wanted their initials. I…” Do I really want to tell her this part? No. “It’s a dragon.” I take a deep breath. “He told me to stay away from Lucy. He knows we spent the night together.”
“Omigod! Seth, Jesus. I told you not to mess with her.”
“Not now, Jax. This is serious. He’s acting like a psycho, and I’m worried about Lucy.”
“He won’t hurt her.”
“Maybe not physically, but he’s already done a number on her emotionally.”
Jax is silent for a moment. Then she says, “Come get me. We need to find her.”
“I’m on my way.”
Seven minutes later, I’m idling in front of Jax’s apartment. She must have been watching for me because she runs out the door before I can even get out of my truck.
“Go to the club first,” Jax says.
I glance at her. “Are you sure? Her car broke down. Don’t you think we should try her house?”
“She’s not there.” Jax presses a button on her phone. Lucy’s voice fills the cab. “Jax. I’m stranded and desperately need a ride. Call me.” Jax hits another button. “Never mind. Holt is giving me a ride to town. Call me back.”
“Did she? Call you back, I mean?” I ask.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. I turned my phone off, so if she did, she didn’t leave a message.”
“Jax,” I say, exasperated. “Why are you so mad at her?”
“I’m not!”
“You were.” I turn onto the highway and speed up.
She closes her eyes. “I was just feeling sorry for myself. I drank too much and didn’t get to have my one-night stand.”
I smile at her. “That’s a good thing.”
“No it isn’t. I’m going to die an old spinster.”
I hate that she’s so down on herself. “Not possible. You can have any guy you want.”
She huffs. “Easy for you to say. I just wanted one night, preferably with someone I trust.” She lowers her voice, and I can barely hear her last words. “Lucy got the one I wanted.”