Missing Ink

by E J Frost

  “I’m plying you with Disney until you give it up.”

  She does and by the time Queen Elinor turns into a bear, I’m sniffling and curled up in the blanket fort we’ve built with Emily’s arms around me and her crazy cat plopped in front of me like a black and white bread loaf, staring at me with his one golden eye and purring like a jackhammer.

  “Bren, I’m so sorry,” Emily croons as she strokes my back. “I don’t know what I would have done if Daddy hadn’t said it back. Died, I think.”

  I hiccup a little, which makes the cat purr louder. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have waited for him to say it first and then I’d never have said it and it wouldn’t fucking matter.”

  “Bren.” She rubs harder. “It would still matter. You deserve to be with someone who loves you back.”

  I know I do. But after Edz and Ten and Rob and now Mac, it’s beginning to smack of impossibility.

  “Is there something wrong with me?” I ask brokenly.

  “No. Absolutely not.” She’s rubbing so hard my scars begin to ache. “And Master Mac knew going in that you needed something real. I told him up front you wanted to be loved. It’s not fair of him to say he could give you more and then hold those words back. The words are important. It’s not fair.”

  “Hon, leave me a little skin back there.”

  “Oh, sorry.” The rubbing slows before she debrides my ribs. “I don’t think you should stay with him, Bren. Not if he can’t say he loves you.”

  My breath hitches and tears leak because somewhere down in my cloven heart, the same thought’s been percolating.

  “We’re still new,” I say, articulating the excuses my head’s been throwing at my heart. “I’m probably the one jumping the gun telling him I love him after knowing him for a couple of weeks.”

  “I’d known Daddy for less time and he said it back. Mac’s saying he’ll never be able to say he loves you. You deserve more than that.”

  “I know.” I wipe my eyes, but it doesn’t help with how blurry the movie’s become. It’s all that wild, red hair whipping around the screen. Stupid plasma TV.

  “Don’t do what you did with Master Ten.”

  “No.” I take a deep breath and feel my resolve harden. “I’m not doing that to myself again. If Mac can’t love me, he can’t love me. Better to know now.”

  “And you’ll break it off with him?”

  I reach back and grab one of her hands before she gives me a friction burn. “Em, I know you’re trying to be there for me, but don’t push me right now, okay? I’m feeling really—” Idiotic. Fragile. Ever since I met Ruby, I’ve always wanted to be just like her, the strong one. No man’s ever broken her, and no man ever will. I won’t let a man break me. Not even my Sir. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a little space, okay?”

  She stops rubbing, thank the Benevolence, and wraps her arms around me. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I just hate that Master Mac’s turned out to be no better than Master Ten. I thought he was the one for you.”

  I pat her hand. “I’m not sure there is a person for everyone, hon.”

  “There is, Bren,” she whispers. “I promise.”

  But I’m not so sure, and by the way the movie ends, Disney isn’t, either. It’s kind of awesome that Merida doesn’t need a love interest, but it kind of stings, too. If Disney can’t give their warrior-princess a happy ending, what chance do I have?

  “How about Hunger Games ?” I suggest as the movie ends. “I’m in the mood for a little Katniss Everdeen.”

  “You got it.” Emily picks up her phone and fiddles around with it until the movie changes over.

  I must fall asleep sometime during the third Quarter Quell because when a rustling wakes me, the cat’s gone, Emily’s gone, and the TV screen’s dark. I rub my gritty eyes and try to focus on what’s woken me.

  It’s a bouquet of beautiful, blue roses, wrapped in crinkling tissue paper, held in a strong, masculine hand, that’s poking through the front of the blanket fort.

  “Hell.” I hear Mac curse softly. “I’m not going to be able to get in there without bringing the whole thing down on my head.”

  I reach up and flip one of the blankets back. “I’ll come out, Sir.”

  “You stay right where you are, girl.” He hands me the bouquet and I bury my face in the blooms, letting the silky petals tickle my cheeks and chin. I’m not crying. There’s no point in crying over flowers. They’re a nice gesture, but they don’t change anything.

  Mac figures out how to climb into the blanket fort without destroying it and I slide back into the space Emily was lying in as he stretches out against my front. He pulls my left hand away from the bouquet and slides something cold onto my middle finger.

  I hold my hand up to see what it is. A plain, slightly battered silver band with a flat top. There’s a worn insignia stamped into the flat part: a shield and a Latin motto I can’t read. It’s way too big for my finger and looks like a man’s ring.

  “What is this, Sir?”

  Mac winds his arm around my waist and pulls me tightly against him. “It’s a promise ring.”

  “A what?”

  “A promise ring. Sorry ‘bout the size. It’s all I had, and I didn’t think this could wait while I went and bought a ring. This is the best I could come up with, girl. I love you, Brenna. I do. You’re my reason to get up in the morning and what gets me through the day and the goddess I want to worship every night. But those words are for my wife. So, if you need me to say them, and God knows I want to, I need to know that one day, you’ll wear my ring and be my wife.”

  My heart fucking stops.

  “Bren, damn it, say something.”

  I stare at him in shock.

  “Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Please say something.”

  “You want to marry me?” I croak.

  He smiles slowly, that wicked, warm grin of his. “Told you I’d still want to fuck that ass when I’m a hundred. You bet I’m going to wife it. No way I’m not locking down my daily anal.”

  “Are you talking about anal sex while you’re proposing to me?”

  Mac begins kissing me, laughing while he does, in that way that he does, which breaks my heart open again, although this time it feels like he’s knitting it back together with each kiss. “That’s what I got, bold girl. Are you gonna give me an answer before I die here?”

  “How imminent is that, Sir?”

  “Pretty fucking imminent. Will you marry me, Bren? Real talk. You’re starting to scare me.”

  “Doms know no fear,” I say with a smile that he kisses off my face.

  “This Dom is feeling a little fear—”

  I put my finger over his lips. “I did not expect you to ask me to marry you, Sir. Not in a million years. And I don’t know if our ideas of marriage are even in the same galaxy—”

  “We’ll work that out,” he says against my finger.

  “Yes, we will.” If he loves me, and can say it, then we can work anything out. “And, yes, Master Mac, my Sir, I will marry you.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” he mutters against my finger before he pushes it aside with his chin to drown me in kisses again.

  He takes me right there in the blanket fort to seal the deal, and, yes, he gets his daily anal.

  Epilogue

  As I walk up the stairs from my shop, I hear the faint strains of Clair du Lune, this classical piece Mac’s crazy about, and smile to myself. Nights that start with Clair du Lune are guaranteed to be good nights.

  I don’t smell any of the cooking smells that often greet me as I transition from shop to apartment. Mac’s taken up cooking, real gourmet shit, to fill his spare time. I gave him the ancient, grimy collection of index cards that Bebe J gifted me when she passed, containing our family recipes. Mac’s been cooking his way through them, alternating them with dishes like pan-seared Cajun scallops and fried snapper Vietnamese style. If we didn’t kickbox nearly every day, I’d have gained fifty pounds
in the last three weeks.

  The absence of dinner smells tells me we’re going out tonight. Mac wasn’t kidding about showing me off. He takes me out to dinner often, at seafood shacks up and down the coast where we share baskets of greasy fried shrimp while we walk along the cold sands, at Miss Eve’s where he manages to wrangle another recipe out of her every time, at restaurants where my dreads and piercings draw more than one disapproving glance. No matter where we go, no matter what we do, Mac’s gaze is never anything but approving; his treatment of me in public is never anything less than an A-list celebrity would demand.

  In private, he treats me like his hole to fuck. And his goddess. And his snuggleslut, which is what he had engraved on the metal tag to the blue leather collar I wear now. I get misty every time I catch sight of the collar in my reflection. Mac makes me such a melt.

  He tells me he loves me every day, and never gives me a reason to doubt it.

  I open the door and step through into my apartment. The living room’s hemmed in with boxes. Mac moved all his stuff over from his apartment in Brooklyn the weekend after he proposed to me. It’s still in boxes while we wait for the renovations on Logan’s townhouse to be finished. I haven’t decided what to do with my apartment yet. I have a surprising number of options, from keeping it for myself to letting Naomi stay here after she leaves rehab since she’s decided to take a gap year while she figures out what she wants to do with her life to renting it to my new apprentice, Taco. His left arm’s still in a cast, and he’s still an Oidhri prospect, but four days a week, I teach him my trade. He has plenty of natural talent and is already showing a real flair for portraits. He’ll be better than Nicky before long, which has Nicky riding him mercilessly. The kid’s still in a hero-worship phase, but the way Taco’s eyes follow Nicky when Nicky’s not looking, it could well be more someday.

  Mac rises from the couch when I enter. He’s wearing black jeans, a deep rust sweater that makes his blue eyes freaking glow, and his Oidhri leather cut. The bikers didn’t waste any time patching Mac in, particularly not after their trip to the hospital. Mac won’t tell me exactly what happened—club business, he says, and to be honest, I appreciate that I won’t have to lie if someone like Theo questions me—but Mad Bob came out of the hospital with more broken bones than he went in with. The ulna at each wrist, to be specific. It will be a long time before Mad Bob can hold a tattoo gun again.

  Of the other Black Mask and Skinhead Kevin, there hasn’t been another whisper, although Mac spends a lot of time reading in the reception area of my shop on the days Taco isn’t around. Missing Ink is busier than ever, with a nearly five-star rating on Google after all the fake reviews were taken down. We’re so busy that when Taco finishes his apprenticeship, I’ll be able to offer him a chair full time if he wants it.

  Mac holds his arms out to me, and I melt into him. He clasps me lightly, at shoulder and hip, and begins to move. He’s taught me the dance that goes to this music, which at first had me shuffling awkwardly in his arms but is becoming so natural that the next time he suggests we go out dancing, I’m going to take him up on it instead of challenging him to another Frogger-off. I let my head fall to his shoulder and close my eyes, trusting him to guide me around the furniture and between the boxes and to all the places our future leads. All the places my Sir and I will explore, starting with wherever we’re going riding tonight. I roll my cheek on his shoulder, drawing in his warm Mac-scent, nuzzling his throat, and letting the serenity of this moment, of all the moments Mac gives me, fill me.

  The world isn’t always sweetness and light. There are dark parts. Parts that leave scars. But I’ve found my own sun. The man who brings light to the dark parts and holds my hand as I navigate the shadows.

  Extras

  Glossary of Slang and Unusual Terms

  Bastard : (British) rarely used in the literal sense, but rather as a generic term for a man, often affectionately.

  Bottom : (BDSM) in an older, stricter sense, the person who is penetrated during a kinky scene or activity, but this term has evolved to be synonymous with submissive and is used primarily when there’s no power exchange between partners.

  BDSM : an acronym for bondage and discipline (BD), Dominance and submission (DS), and sadism and masochism (SM); covers a huge range of activities, not all of them sexual.

  Cut : the sleeveless, leather vest worn by members of motorcycle clubs.

  Daddy Dom : (BDSM) a Dominant who is a caregiver to his or her partner.

  Dominant : (BDSM) the person who holds and exercises control over another in a kinky activity, usually within the context of a power exchange; abbreviated Dom; the female version is Domme; synonymous with top .

  Fairskin Knights, The : a fictional white supremacist group based in Brooklyn.

  Funishments : (BDSM) a scene or kinky activity that would, under other circumstances, be punitive for the submissive, but in context is playful and enjoyable.

  High Protocol : (BDSM) a formal set of behavioural rules for a submissive, enforced by a Dominant; always restrictive and frequently punitive.

  Little : (BDSM) a submissive who enters into a scene or relationship with a caregiver partner; some littles enjoy child-like activities and frames of mind.

  Masochist : (BDSM) a person who derives sexual pleasure or emotional gratification from receiving pain and/or humiliation. Not synonymous with submissive or bottom, although some submissives and bottoms are also masochists.

  Master : (BDSM) the person who holds and exercises control over another in a kinky activity, within the context of a power exchange.

  Nillas : (slang) Vanilla wafers; slang for people who are not in the BDSM lifestyle.

  Oidhri Brian Bóramha (Heirs of Brian Boru): a fictional motorcycle club based in Newburgh, New York; members are all Dominants.

  Outlaws, The : one-percenter motorcycle club with chapters in the eastern United States; fierce rivals of the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club.

  Rolling Blue MC : a fictional motorcycle club based in New Jersey; members are ex-military and former law enforcement.

  Sadist : (BDSM) a person who derives sexual pleasure or emotional gratification from inflicting pain and/or humiliation on another. Not synonymous with Dom or Top, although some Doms and Tops are also sadists.

  Safe word : (BDSM) a word or phrase used by a participant in a kinky scene to alert other participant(s) that the person is having a problem and needs the activity to stop, at least momentarily.

  Scene : (BDSM) a kinky activity, usually with a distinct beginning and end, as opposed to the lifestyle , in which kinky activity may take place at any time or even all the time; the scene usually refers to the BDSM community.

  Slave : (BDSM) the person who surrenders control to another in a kinky activity, within the context of a power exchange.

  Submissive : (BDSM) the person who surrenders control to another in a kinky activity, usually within the context of a power exchange; abbreviated sub; synonymous with bottom .

  Subspace : (BDSM) a state of altered consciousness induced in a bottom or submissive by kinky play.

  Switch : (BDSM) a person who both tops and bottoms.

  Ta : (British) thank you (usually used by children).

  Top : (BDSM) in an older, stricter sense, the person who penetrates another during a kinky scene, but this term has evolved to be synonymous with Dominant and is used primarily when there’s no power exchange between partners.

  Topspace : a state of altered consciousness induced in a top or Dominant by kinky play.

  Characters in Missing Ink

  Between Blunts and the bikers, I realized there are a lot of characters in this story, many of whom are only introduced by their first name, a club name, a nickname, or a road name. To avoid confusion, I’ve included a character roster and hope it helps readers keep the secondary characters straight. (I haven’t listed the two main characters, Brenna “DirtyGurl” Truelove and Michael “Mac” McNally, to avoid spoilers about their story.)
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br />   Aggie (Agnes Chapman): babygirl (little) submissive; member of Logan and Emily’s playgroup; collared by and married to Warrin; teacher.

  Amy (Amy McNally Hurst): Mac’s ex-wife; now remarried.

  Austin (Austin Whittaker): Brenna’s close friend; Blunts house submissive; collared by Mistress Dana; photographer and EMT.

  Bebe J (Jane Dawkins): Brenna’s grandmother; deceased.

  Briar (Briar Rose Daniels): Blunts house submissive; part of Rachel’s clique; model and travel advisor.

  Bud (Albert Boyd): Treasurer of Rolling Blue MC.

  Cappa (Robert Harris): Brenna’s close friend; Blunts house submissive; dancer.

  Char (Charlotte D’Angelo): Blunts house submissive; Cappa’s “twin;” hostess.

  Chess (Chesterfield Ray): Blunts Dom; club chairman.

  Chris (Christopher Kelly): hang-around at Rolling Blue MC.

  Cinder (Kelly Kessinger): Dom; Sergeant at Arms of Oidhri MC; Master and husband of Muzi.

  Cynnie (Cynthia Kwan): Emily’s friend; fairy kei little submissive; dating Max Bateman; illustrator.

  Dana (Dana Chavez): Logan’s friend; Blunts Domme; Mistress of Protocol; Austin’s Mistress; NY court officer.

  Eddy (Edwina Lincoln): former leader of the East C Girls; now incarcerated.

  Edz (Edward Trent): Brenna’s former Dom; in foster care with Brenna and Ruby; musician and promoter.

  Enzo : Manny’s wife’s cousin; electrician.

  Emily ( Emily Martin): Brenna’s friend; Logan’s submissive; author.

  Fleur (Violet Moynahan): Brenna’s friend; Blunt’s house submissive.

  Harry (Harold Winter): Logan and Mac’s friend; Blunts Dom; Pence’s Master; member of Rolling Blue MC.

  Javier (Javier Duquesne): Logan’s friend; Blunts Dom; management committee member; art dealer.

  Logan (James Logan): Mac’s second in command and close friend; Emily’s daddy; Blunts Dom; former Master of Training, now a management committee member; private investigator.

  Manny (Manuel Costa): Mac’s gunny; Logan’s friend and business partner; bodyguard.