Loki's Angel: A Poseidon's Warriors MC novel - Book 3

by Darlene Tallman

  Since I know nothing about how tattoos are crafted, I nod. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Specks is going to help me in case there’s anything he needs to tweak as far as the program itself goes,” he states, leading me through a huge room and down a hall. He knocks on a door and I hear a voice holler for us to come in. He ushers us inside then says, “Specks, this is CeeCee. CeeCee, this is Specks.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, darling,” he replies, causing Loki to make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl.

  Loki grabs a measuring tape and proceeds to measure me, calling out my height and then the distance from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. I watch in fascination as Specks inputs the data, because the screen adjusts accordingly. It kind of reminds me of the forms I’ve seen on the crime shows when they do an autopsy. The body is generic with a front and rear body so that the coroner can mark areas where there’s an injury. I see Specks’ face redden a bit when he glances at me and instinctively know that Loki’s going to need to see the scars.

  “Don’t fucking look, brother,” he growls out as I remove my blouse. He starts at my back and moves from left to right, measuring the size and location of each scar. He then does the same with each arm while I watch the screen in front of me continue to take life. Leaning close, he whispers, “Gotta see the other ones too, Angel.” I gulp, but raise the camisole over my head, grateful that Specks apparently took Loki’s warning seriously because he hasn’t glanced in my direction one time.

  With the same gentleness that he displayed the other day, he looks at each scar and calls out the respective measurements to Specks. I can tell Specks is getting upset because each time Loki gives him another number, his hands clench into fists, he grinds his teeth, then he practically stabs his fingers through the keyboard. Yet, he doesn’t say a word, something I’m beyond grateful for because this is difficult enough for me.

  Once he’s got them all, I slip my camisole then shirt back on then watch as Specks saves what he’s done before he clicks ‘generate’. I gasp when I see what the program creates because it’s me. Granted, there are no identifying physical features per se, like my eye color or my hair, but seeing all the marks that crisscross my body makes it more real despite the fact that I see and feel each of them whenever I take a shower.

  “Do you have your design, brother?” Specks asks Loki.

  “Yeah, it’s right here,” he replies, grabbing a sketchpad and flipping to one of the pages. Specks scans both pages since Loki created a front and back design and I watch in amazement as my tattoo appears on the screen.

  “That’s freaking awesome!” I exclaim.

  “I know it’s in black and white right now, but this will let me create the transfer,” Loki explains, pointing at the screen. “Once all the outlining is done, then everywhere that there’s a scar, I’ll either create a tattered feather if it’s large, or show the new growth popping through.” I close my eyes, visualizing what he’s just described as tears threaten to overflow.

  “It’s going to be stunning,” Specks says. I can hear the awe in his voice. I feel the same way as a matter of fact.

  “I agree,” I whisper, my voice raspy because of my unshed tears.

  “Loki, I’ll come down to the shop tomorrow so we can print it onto transfer paper if you want,” Specks states.

  “Yes, let’s do that,” Loki responds. “I know CeeCee is anxious about getting this started.”

  “Maybe a little,” I admit, waving my hand back and forth. “I mean, surely a tattoo can’t hurt any worse than what caused the scars to begin with, right?”

  I watch both men’s faces darken in anger yet instinctively know it’s not toward me. No, that would be reserved for the woman who birthed me. Thankfully, neither of them says anything since my emotions are too close to the surface and I refuse to cry any longer. “I’m going to print this off now on regular paper because I think Gianna mentioned she wanted to see it,” Specks finally says, turning back to his computer.

  “Who’s Gianna?” I question Loki.

  “Trident’s wife,” he replies. Well, that was as clear as mud. He must see the confusion on my face because he elaborates, saying, “Trident is one of my brothers. Gianna is his wife. Our president, Poseidon, is married to Lilli and they’ve got a little girl named Winnie.”

  I smile because I love babies even though I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to be a mom. Gotta have some important things first, like a man in my life. Oh, and sex. Yes, that’s a critical piece to getting pregnant. Not only that, but with the stellar example I had before Momma M took me in, I’m not sure I’d be a good mom. “How old is she?” I question.

  “Fuck if I know. She’s still little, that’s about all I know when it comes to babies,” Loki says, grinning at me. “But she’s cute as hell, that’s for sure. Gianna’s pregnant now too.”

  “Here you go, brother,” Specks says, holding out several sheets of paper to Loki. “Can’t wait to see it when it’s finally finished. It’s going to be one badass tattoo.”

  I feel the blush on my face at his words since I’m so used to being behind the scenes. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can find Gianna,” Loki says, holding out his hand. I don’t examine my response, I simply slip my hand in his and once again feel the zing when he laces our fingers together.

  “Oh, this is going to look great, Loki!” Gianna, the pretty woman I was just introduced to, states. “I can’t wait to see it!”

  “Thanks, Gia,” he replies, his cheeks reddening. I mentally add another tick in the column I have running as to all the things I find fascinating with regard to him. It’s obvious from looking at the portfolio at his tattoo shop that he’s beyond talented; however, he isn’t boastful about his skill judging by the embarrassment on his face right now.

  “Now that it’s designed, when will you start?” she questions, looking between the two of us.

  “That really depends on CeeCee’s schedule. Because it’s a larger than normal piece, I can’t do it all at once. I’d like to do the back outline first if possible, then once it’s healed, do the front outline. Then, depending on how quickly that heals, we’ll start the shading. I think it’s going to take a few months to finish it completely.” I feel my shoulders drop because I didn’t realize just how intensive the process would be. “With work, do you need me to plan on scheduling you for Saturdays?” he asks.

  “What? Um, no. I actually work from home and make my own schedule. As long as I have stuff done in a timely manner, I’m relatively flexible,” I reply.

  “Then if you want, we can start on Monday,” he says, smiling at me. I smile back, my thoughts racing thinking that in a week’s time, I’ll be on my way to covering up the reminders of my past. My heartbeat increases and I feel myself flush at the intensity of his gaze. I nod as I mentally think about having his hands on me. “Now that that’s settled, how about we go grab something to eat.”

  Well, alrighty then, I guess I’m not eating by myself tonight.

  Chapter Four

  Loki

  As we walk out of the clubhouse, her hand once again clasped in mine, I ask, “What do you like to eat?”

  “I like pretty much everything. Well, except liver and onions, but I don’t know anyone who does like that,” she says. Her response makes me laugh and without thinking, I pull her closer. The slight stiffening of her body against mine reminds me that her background is one of physical abuse, at least, and I immediately feel like shit.

  “I’m sorry, CeeCee.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she stammers. “I know that not everyone is going to hurt me. I owe you the apology because you’ve never once given me the impression that you would.” I see a glimmer of a steel backbone in her and know that once she gets her ink, it’s going to grow.

  “There’s a family-style buffet not far from here that offers a decent variety of food,” I tell her as we reach her car.
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  “Is it over by the new pet store that just opened?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I think so. Why?” She’s such a paradox to me and I find myself eager to find out everything there is to know about Miss CeeCee Morgan.

  “Well, I told you that I work from home which gets lonely. I figure if I get myself a pet then maybe instead of talking to myself, I can talk to it.”

  I chuckle before saying, “I tend to talk to myself from time to time. Go ahead and get in and I’ll follow you.”

  Her smile is bright as she replies, “Okay.”

  Once she’s in her car and has it cranked, I walk over to my bike, put my helmet on as well as my leather gloves, then turn the ignition over. The rumble increases as I get ready to follow CeeCee out of the parking lot. The thought crosses my mind that I can’t wait to have her behind me when I ride, and I grin.

  She’s a cautious driver which amuses me. Not that I’m unsafe, but I enjoy a little speed when I’m on my bike and having to throttle back has my mind wandering. As she signals to enter the shopping center where the buffet is located, I clock the pet store she mentioned. While she parks, I drive by and check the hours before I pull into the spot next to her. “We’re in luck, Angel,” I tell her as I open her car door once she turns it off and the locks disengage.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “The pet store is open for a few more hours,” I reply.

  “That’s great,” she says, smiling up at me as we walk across the lot to the buffet. When we get inside, she closes her eyes and breathes deeply. “Mmm, they have those good rolls here.”

  “What are you talking about?” I question, leading us to where a hostess stands, waiting for customers. I indicate that there are two and she grabs some silverware wrapped in faux cloth napkins before she walks us to a booth.

  Once we’re seated and the hostess has taken our drink orders, she looks at me and says, “You know, those yummy, hot yeast rolls. I hope they have honey cinnamon butter.” Her eyes close and the expression she makes has my dick hardening because she looks positively blissed out. I immediately picture her with her hair spread out on my pillow, her body flushed yet sated. Yep, I’m fucked.

  “Gotcha,” I reply, grinning at her. The waitress comes over with our drinks and a basket of said yeast rolls and I watch in fascination as CeeCee takes one of the small plates, opens up the napkin that’s covering the basket and grabs a roll. She then proceeds to slather butter on it then pop a straw in her drink.

  “Did y’all want the buffet?” the waitress asks looking between the two of us.

  “That’d be fine,” I reply.

  “Plates are at each area. All we ask is that you use clean plates whenever you go to get more. Also, while we don’t have a problem with folks going multiple times, we ask that you try not to waste anything if that makes sense.”

  “So, basically, only take what you think you can eat,” CeeCee says.

  “Exactly. We try to keep the prices down especially in today’s economy so when people come in and pile multiple plates high then don’t eat even a fraction of it, we’re forced to raise them.”

  “Well, whatever you don’t eat, Angel, I’ll take care of,” I tell CeeCee with a wink. The look on her face makes me chuckle. She has no idea that my desire for her to be in my life means that I’ll do whatever I can to insinuate myself. I stand and hold my hand out to her. “Let’s go see what they’ve got.”

  I can’t help the smile that covers my face watching CeeCee as she gets her food. Instead of piling it high, when she sees something she thinks she’d like, she takes a small spoonful. Meanwhile, my plate looks like I’m about to embark on a lumberjack training exercise or something. One is full of protein including an awesome looking steak, as well as some salmon and roasted chicken. The other, which I just took back to the table, features a salad that has all the good stuff on it. Now, I’m debating between the macaroni and cheese, a baked potato, or mashed potatoes. “Always go with the mac and cheese if you have a choice,” she leans in and whispers. “Although I’m partial to mashed potatoes myself.” This time, she adds more than a taste, causing me to chuckle.

  “Not to be rude but how on earth are you in as good of shape as you are eating all the carbs?” I ask. “I know I’ll be putting in extra work this week to combat this meal.”

  “I run three or four days a week, plus I take a Pilates class,” she replies. “Because I’m not giving up bread or my comfort foods. With my job being sedentary, I decided I needed to do something so I don’t end up on a reality show.”

  “Well, you look fine to me. If you’re ever looking for a running partner, let me know. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but I find it necessary as well seeing as I spend most of my days hunched over tattooing.”

  “That would be fun, although I think you’d probably run circles around me,” she says, looking me up and down. I shrug; I can’t help that I’m taller than her. Our height difference is perfect to me anyhow.

  “I’ll run backwards for you,” I promise as we make our way to the table. Once we’re seated and we’ve both seasoned our food, we start eating.

  “Oh, this is so good,” she moans out around a forkful of some vegetable concoction. I’m not big on veggies, but I can handle peas and green beans which is what I got for myself.

  “What is it?” I ask, my curiosity roused.

  “Squash casserole. Want to try some?” she questions, holding out her fork. Without thinking, I lean in and take the bite she’s offering.

  “Damn, that’s not half-bad, actually,” I admit once I’ve chewed and swallowed. “What made you think of getting some of that?”

  She shrugs, giggling. “Um, I noticed I didn’t have anything yellow on my plate, so I got that since I don’t like creamed corn all that much.”

  Her honesty is refreshing because she doesn’t hold back, but it’s not in that ‘in your face bitchy way’. She simply answered the question and I find I like that about her. A lot. I learned long ago that honesty begets trust so anyone in my life needs to have that trait. Just another thing to like about her. “Tell me about yourself,” I say. Conversation seems to be so easy with her which I also enjoy because I spend a lot of time talking to people who respond with either grunts, or only one or two words.

  “What do you want to know?” she asks.

  Everything. The kind of toothpaste you prefer. Whether you sleep with one foot out of the covers. How you look when you’re having an orgasm. Out loud, I merely reply, “Anything you’d like to share. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together so if we have common interests, we can talk while I work unless you doze off.”

  “Do people really do that?”

  I laugh because most of my brothers tend to doze off under the gun. However, I have a few regular clients who do as well. “Yeah, they do. Nothing can kill a vibe faster than to be chit chatting away, wait for a response then hear the person you’re talking to let out a noise that would rival a bear.”

  Her giggles have my dick perking up even more. At this rate, I’m going to need to take an ice bath to get him to go down to normal. “Well, you met Patsy. She’s my best friend. She walked up to me when we were little girls and basically told me we were friends. My biological mom isn’t very nice as you already know and when Patsy’s mom saw what she’d done, I found myself living with them full time as one of their foster kids.”

  “Why didn’t they adopt you?” I question. As horrible as the physical scars look, I can only imagine that she also suffered neglect.

  “Because she wouldn’t give that final go-ahead,” she bites out.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s okay, Loki. In every other way, I am Momma M’s other daughter,” she says. “She saw what was happening and without blinking an eye, she took me on. I was a hot mess back then because I thought that all mothers treated their children that way. She got me into therapy to help me understand that what was done to me wasn�
�t right, that no parent should ever raise their hand to their child to harm them. In fact, she wouldn’t spank me when I was bad. She came up with alternative discipline measures because she never wanted me to associate what she was doing with anything I’d already lived through.”

  “She sounds like a good woman, CeeCee,” I say, my voice low due to the emotions swirling in my head. She’s so matter of fact about what was done to her, yet I know it has had a profound effect on her. She’s a vibrant woman who has tried to hide in the shadows because of what was done to her.

  I’m going to change all of that if she’ll let me.

  “Now you and Patsy have your own place?” She nods then proceeds to share some of their adventures as homeowners.

  “That was a good idea,” I tell her once she admits they went to the local hardware store and took every single DIY class they could so that they’d know if they could handle a problem or needed professional help.

  “Well, I have my own toolbox now,” she confesses, giggling. “Plus, I can snake a drain, replace a garbage disposal, install a dishwasher, lay tile, and paint!”

  “If the club ever decides to try its hand at construction, I’ll put your name up as a potential employee,” I advise, smirking at her. “Seriously, that’s pretty fucking impressive.”

  “I can do some basic auto repair too,” she admits, shyly smiling.

  “Why did you learn that?” I ask.

  “Because I’m a single woman and even though we didn’t have a man around the house growing up, I’ve read enough and watched enough shows to know that women sometimes get fleeced when they take their car in for repairs.”

  “That would never happen at our shop,” I growl out. “Atlas and Reef are beyond aboveboard with their customers. Hell, they talked the rest of us into buying some basic interchangeable parts and shit so if a vehicle came in and an issue showed up that the customer was unaware of, they could go ahead and fix it without having to charge them.”