by Harper Sloan
“Maybe,” I mumble, going over in my head the pros of a piercing over a tattoo.
I’ll admit that when I had my fit over Greg’s words I didn’t completely think this through. Sure, I have wanted a tattoo for a while, but it should be something I think and plan, not something I decide in anger. A piercing though, well . . . I can take that out whenever I get sick of them. Permanence isn’t even an issue there. It’s just something pretty to look at for a while.
Dee is flicking through one of the tattoo books. She is not really looking at anything, just flipping and stealing looks over at Beck. Greg is rod straight and clearly very pissed, his eyes burning holes right into me. I stand and walk back over to Trix, leaning over the display case to whisper my request in her ear. When I stand back, she has a huge grin on her face. She gives me a small nod and walks back to one of the black window rooms.
“Izzy,” Greg starts, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I turn and give him a smart smile, not even bothering to hide my simmering pissed vibes. “Why nothing, Gregory. I’m just enjoying my head being all fucked up.”
I walk back over to Dee, who is looking at me, and even with her worried eyes, she is trying hard not to laugh. We are clearly a dysfunctional family.
“You pick anything yet?” I ask her.
“Yeah, nothing big, but I got it.”
“Perfect, but if this isn’t something you want, don’t feel like you have to do this just because I’m set on proving a point to the big idiot.”
She has her happy smile back on her face. She might not have meant to actually show up here, but I can tell she doesn’t mind now.
“It’s all good, Iz. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You seriously going to get some rings hanging off your tits?” She snickers.
“I might be pissed, but I’m not stupid. I need time to figure out the perfect tat, and some stupid fight with Greg isn’t going to make me jump the gun. Plus, I think my tits will look fucking hot with some bling.”
We are both laughing hard when a good-looking guy walks up and asks which one of us is Izzy. For some reason, I expected the person doing my piercings to be a female. Don’t I specifically drive a town over because I don’t want to see a male gynecologist? Now, the person who will be shoving a needle through my fun bags is going to be this hunk? Shit. Didn’t see that coming.
“Izzy would be me,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. I can see Greg out of the corner of my eye. If anything, he looks like he is going to explode soon. He looks carved from stone, and I know he is just gearing up to shut this down. I bring my focus back to the man in front of me.
“Tyler. Nice to meet you. Ready?”
“Sure thing, Tyler.”
We set off for the black window rooms; I can hear Greg speaking harshly behind me. I don’t turn around to see who he is talking to. He isn’t stopping this.
We walk into the room and I’m shocked to see how bright it is in here. Something about the windows had me expecting some gloom and doom back here. The walls, ceiling, and floor match the décor outside the door. There is a single dentist-looking chair in the middle of the room and a long table against the back wall. He’s already set up the things he will need on the little tray next to the chair.
“First piercings?” Tyler asks while motioning me to jump up on the chair.
“Yup, other than my ears.”
“Ah, perfect. I love poppin’ cherries.” He smiles over at me.
He really is very nice to look at. This might be more fun than I thought it would be. He has light brown hair, which is a little on the long side and curling under his ears and behind the back of the cap he is wearing. His eyes are light blue and bright with mischief. He must be assuming that this is some kind of kink I have. His face is model perfect. If it weren’t for the huge gages through his ears, a lip ring, two eyebrow rings, and the colorful art running up both arms, I might think he was in the wrong place.
“Ha, I’m sure you do. So what do you need me to do?”
“Strip down, sweetheart. Shirt, bra, and you can take the pants off too if that’s what works for you. Get comfortable and recline on back. I need to mark you first to make sure I get these bars in perfectly. I wouldn’t want to mess up those perfect tits.”
Choosing to ignore his blatant flirting, I reach down for the hem of my tee and pull it over my head. I flick my bra off, throwing them both on the chair in the corner. Putting my back flat on the chair, I reach up and pull my thick hair into a messy knot on the top of my head; all the while, I’m watching the lustful look take over his face.
Tyler reaches over and helps me to lean forward so he can mark my nipples. His gloved hands are cold at first, but he makes quick work with the marker. He gives me a quick squeeze before releasing the swells of my breast. I’m sure that was more for his benefit than the alignment of my holes. At this point, I don’t even care. It’s been a long time since anyone other than myself has touched my tits, so even though it’s awkward, his touch isn’t exactly a turn-off.
“You ready?” he asks. I can feel the soft bite of the needle against my left nipple. It isn’t an unpleasant pain, bordering the line between pain and pleasure for sure. Surely, it isn’t natural to be this turned on right now.
“Yup. Do your thing.” I close my eyes tight, and wait for it.
He gives me a sharp pinch before I feel him push the needle through. I let out the breath I was holding . . . Not bad. The pain is already receding and a weird burning numbness is taking over. If this is what every body piercing feels like, I can understand why Tyler here has so many now.
“Not bad, huh?” he asks while walking around the chair to the other side. He seems to have lost his playful flirting and turned into the perfect professional. He looks up and gives me a small wink. Okay, so maybe not all the flirting has left his system.
“No,” I laugh, “definitely not bad.”
“All right, ready for the next?”
“Go for it.”
I close my eyes tight again, and the process is repeated, but right when I feel him finishing up with the tightening of the ball at the end of my new piercing, there is a loud thump at the door and suddenly it’s jerked wide open. He jumps to stand in front of me, trying to protect my modesty. From my spot hidden behind Tyler the piercer, I can see one very long jean-covered leg and a big-booted foot. I don’t know those boots. The only other thing I can see past Tyler is one giant fist flexing and pulsing by the leg’s side.
Then I hear the softly spoken command, the command laced with so much fury only a fool would ignore it. I squeeze my eyes shut again, praying that I’m wrong about who is standing in front of Tyler.
“Move. Move the fuck out of my way. Right fucking now.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
Tyler looks over his shoulder at me, trying to figure out if I know who this is or if he needs to have him removed. Laughable, really—there is no way he would be able to move this man. It might take every person in this whole building to remove this pissed-off brute. He reaches off behind his back and pulls out a towel he had hanging off the back of his belt. Might not be the cleanest thing in the world right now, but at least it would hide my body. Or some of my body.
“Thanks,” I softly say to Tyler. “It’s okay. I’ll be right out to pay.”
“Okay. You sure?” he asks, and at my nod, he quickly gives me a rundown on after care and tells me he will leave a sheet with the instructions with Trix up front.
I look down and make sure the towel is covering me enough before I look up and meet the blazing green, very pissed depths of Axel’s eyes. This isn’t going to be fun. Not only am I sitting in front of him naked from the waist up, but seeing his face again is still a punch straight to the gut. It physically hurts to breathe. He looks so different than the boyish face I remember in my dreams. He is still Axel, but he looks harder. Age has done wonderful things to this man. He was always tall, but never this tall. When he left at eighteen,
he had a boy’s body, but there is nothing boy about him now. He looks to have doubled in size, and his muscles were pulsing on his arms, flexing with pent-up energy. Angry energy. His black tee is stretched tight, not only hugging his heavily tattooed arms but his flat stomach as well. I can even see the rippling of his abs through the material. His legs are long and thick, covered in denim. I can feel the vibes coming from him, and they aren’t happy ones. I have a feeling he isn’t just unhappy about me blowing him off today. He did say every door when he threatened to track me down. How the hell did he know where to find me?
He takes a menacing step forward and closes the door behind him, shutting us in the room and standing between my clothes and me.
“What did I fucking say, Izzy? I would find you. You aren’t fucking hiding from this talk, you hear me? Now, want to fucking tell me what the hell you’re doing with your fucking shirt off back here?” No need to look at his face to judge his mood. He’s well passed pissed.
“Can you please pass me my clothes?” That’s what I go with. Seems like the safest bet at this point. Maybe I can avoid him long enough to escape. “Please, Axel.”
He bends, snatching my bra and tee off the chair behind him, not even bothering to look away. Fine. It isn’t like he hasn’t seen them before; he just hasn’t ever seen them like this. Suddenly my act of rebellion isn’t looking so hot. I pick up my bra and let the towel drop. His sharp intake has me snapping my eyes up to meet his. His eyes are focused directly on my chest and their new jewelry. I can see his chest moving rapidly, his nose is flaring, and his hands are back to flexing in and out of a tight fists.
“What the fuck? You let some stranger put his hands on your fucking tits?” He doesn’t even mention the barbells. How can he miss them? They are standing out in all their silver glory against my pink nipples.
“Not your business, Axel. It hasn’t been your business in a long damn time.” My voice sounds funny. My earlier confidence is gone, and I sound almost dead. The fight has left me, and I know it’s futile to even try to run from him. Like it or not, this talk is about to happen. I just have to figure out what and how much to tell him. And just how I will get through it?
“Not my fucking business? We’ll see about that, Izzy. Get your fucking clothes on before someone else sees you.”
I make quick work of redressing, careful with my sensitive and sore nipples. When I am completely covered and standing in front of him, I look up and just take him in. I can’t believe he is really right in front of me, very much alive and pissed off. I can’t tell what’s working behind his eyes. The anger is dominating him right now, but it almost looks like relief.
He reaches out. I don’t even know what his goal is, but I immediately shrink back, closing my eyes tight and turning my head away from his hand.
“What the fuck is this shit, Izzy?” I don’t answer him; I can’t. I’m still turned to the side, waiting on impact. “Turn around. Now.” he roars. He curses under his breath when I flinch even further, turning completely away from him.
At this point, I can’t help the tears that silently run down my cheeks. I know deep down that Axel wouldn’t harm me, but this has been my reality for so long that the instinct to protect myself is just too strong.
“Izzy, please, Princess. Turn around,” he says after a long pause. I can still feel his anger but his tone is soft and reassuring. I slowly turn, bracing myself for any reaction, but I am completely shocked by the pain in his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re talking and we’re talking now. Izzy, hear me this right fucking now. You do not fear me. Ever. Even as mad as you have me, I wouldn’t ever put my hands on you. Do you hear me? I would never harm a single fucking hair on your head, Princess.”
I flinch but it has nothing to do with fearing him. Hearing him call me Princess again is almost as painful as seeing him before me. I never thought I would hear that word coming from those lips again. I nod once, giving him that before following him out the door.
I trail behind him, eyes to the floor, walking past the cubicles and around the display case. I look up and meet Trix’s eyes. Surprisingly, she isn’t enamored by Axel, but she looks at me with uncensored concern. I give her a small, very wobbly smile and ask her how much.
“Already paid. Here are the instructions from Ty. I wrote the shop number on there in case you have any questions.” She looks at me and I can see her communicating something. I just can’t figure it out right now. My mind is focused on one thing and one thing only.
I thank her and then look around the front for Dee. I find her silently crying next to Beck, who has his arm thrown tightly around her shoulders, hugging her close. I can’t even fake a smile for her. She knows me too well, so it would be completely pointless. I walk out the front door and stand there, waiting for the rest of this fucked-up entourage to join me on the sidewalk. Axel is out first. He takes his post behind me, boxing me in and making any thought of running impossible.
Dee comes up and gives me an awkward hug. “It will be okay, Iz,” she whispers into my ear before pulling away and standing back with Beck. He gives me a sympathetic smile but doesn’t say anything, and really, what can be said? Then I meet the blue eyes of Greg.
“Games, baby girl. I won’t sit back and watch you self-destruct with these fucked-up games. You can be mad, and I get that you will be, but you will not play these fucked-up games. I’ll call you tomorrow and maybe by then you will understand why this was the only move you left me. I love you, baby girl, but that shit stops now.”
My eyes widen in shock. I hear Dee gasp behind him, and I feel Axel’s deep rumble behind my back. I can imagine that Dee is just as shocked as I am that Greg just admitted to letting Axel know where I was; I have no clue what the hell Axel’s deal is. I am crushed. How could he do this to me? The tears start streaming down again, even heavier than before. I can see Greg, and he looks visibly shaken up by my tears.
Everything I had been building up—the fight, the drive to be strong—is gone in an instant. I am completely flattened with his betrayal. I let out a mighty breath before addressing Greg. “Do not even bother, Greg. Don’t. As far as I’m concerned, you can lose my number. I’m dead to you, you hear me? I do not exist to you.” I look right into his eyes, with tears flowing quickly; I don’t even bother to mask the pure pain.
He looks stunned at first, and then a look that I’m sure comes close to the pain across my face takes hold of his features. I don’t even give it a second thought. I turn and look up to Axel’s blazing eyes.
“I didn’t drive, took a cab here. So if you want to talk, you either do it here or you meet me somewhere.” I don’t even recognize my voice; it’s flat and expressionless.
His eyes flare and he slowly brings his hand forward, grabbing my hand. I don’t flinch at his touch, but the bolts shooting up my arm from this exchange has me widening my eyes at him. If his quick intake of air is any indication, he feels it too.
“Not leaving my fucking sight, understand that right now. Say goodbye to your friends. We are going to have this chat and we’re doing it right now before you decide to run. Again.” There is no room for arguing; he means it and I don’t even care. Greg’s deception is hard enough to take in, but knowing I am about to rip open old wounds better left alone is gutting me.
I have no idea how I am going to make it through this.
CHAPTER 10
I give Dee another look; she seems to understand and gives me a small nod. I completely ignore Greg, turn, and prepare to follow Axel to parts unknown. I know what is coming, and I might not be ready, but something is telling me that I have no choice. Axel wants answers, he warned me, and I knew he would be determined.
He might think he can bully himself back into my life like he hasn’t just been gone for the last twelve years, but he has another thing coming if he thinks I am just going to roll over and play dead. My fight might be gone, but I am far from out.
We start walking down the sidewalk. He’s leading and I’m following
silently behind him. When we reach his mammoth truck, I stop and look at it. How the hell am I supposed to get in that thing. I am eye level with the footboard thing. Isn’t the purpose of that thing to help people get into vehicles? Typical man, making these damn things impossible. Axel is standing next to me holding the door, waiting for me to climb in. I look from him to the truck a few times. He can’t be for real right now.
“Get in now. I don’t have the patience for your shit.” His voice still sounds lethal. I have no idea what would had made him so mad. He has me and it technically is still Saturday . . . even if there are only a few hours left. So I didn’t exactly do anything wrong. The deadline is up and I’m here, right?
“Hate to point out the obvious, Holt”—I can’t seem to help myself from sneering his name, his new name—“but how exactly do you expect me to get in now, as you have so kindly demanded?”
His eyes flash and fill even more with blinding rage. His face takes on an even harsher hard . . . stone-cold look. “What. The fuck. Did I tell you about calling me Holt?” he throws at me.
His face is almost nose to nose with mine. His rapid breaths are hitting my own mouth in warm bursts. I can taste him on my tongue, and I gasp in shock. My eyes go wide at his close proximity. Even in my current mood, I can’t help but remember all the times I looked into these eyes before. All the times they didn’t hold anger, but untainted love.
“One more time, and I swear to God. Get in the fucking truck,” he bites out, pushing each word towards me with great force.
“You idiot, what do you think I am doing? Standing here for shits and fucking giggles? No, definitely not. I can’t get into your stupid truck. If you would take a second to actually look, you would see this. Your little Napoleon complex is cute. Really, it is. But it is also keeping me from getting in the fucking truck!” I scream the last part in his face so loud that even my ears are ringing. I instantly slam my hand over my mouth, regretting my outburst and fearing his reaction.