Chapter 14

“Fuck, Torran. That really fucking hurts,” I hiss as the needle pounds in to my skin.

“Just hold still, firebird. You’ve done the worst of it. Just a few minutes and it’ll all be done for you.”

Torran and I spent a whole evening discussing placement and he was super patient with me, placing the transfer on different parts of my body so I can see how it looks. I eventually decided to have the phoenix on my left shoulder with its tail feathers trailing down my left side. Partly because I think it looked really cool there, but after extensive research, I concluded it was one of the least painful places to get tattooed.

Least painful, my ass.

“A few minutes?” I ask, counting to fifty over and over in my head so I have something else to concentrate on other than the sting of this damn needle.

“Five. Max,” he reassures. “You’ve done great. Almost five hours in total, these last few minutes should be a doddle.”

“A doddle?”

“Yup. Walk in the park for a badass like you.” He stops the needle to look up at me and smirk, before dipping it in the ink pot and getting right back to it.

“I regret saying that now. I’m not badass. I’m a baby and I want it to be over,” I pout.

“Just close your eyes and take some deep breaths,” he says quietly in that hypnotizing voice of his, brushing off my mini-tantrum.

I put my head back down on the table and try to think about anything but the stinging pain. It’s not actually as bad as I’m making out. I’m just being dramatic, but I won’t be sorry when it’s all over and the art is complete.

“How old are you, Torr?” I ask. It’s not something that had crossed my mind to ask before now, not that it matters. I’m trying to distract myself more than anything, but I’m really interested to know more about him. He’s very quiet about personal stuff and I’ve been trying to pry little snippets of information out of him, to no avail.

He stops the strokes of his gun for a fraction of a second, then continues without answering immediately. “Why?”

“Just curious, I guess.”

“Too old,” he answers cryptically.

His age is so difficult to guess. He has a wisdom, and a pain in his eyes that doesn’t come from youth, but when he smiles, he doesn’t look like he’s much in to his twenties. “Tell me!”

“No,” he answers bluntly.

“You trying to be mysterious?” I dig a little deeper, wondering if I can get him to open up this side of him just a little.

“Nope. I just don’t think it matters. Turn your head back around. I have just a small piece to do here, and I can’t do it when your shoulder is twisted.”

I lay there quietly and perfectly still as he finishes up the last strokes of my ink. He’s so passionate about his designs and takes every detail to perfection. I’ve never had something that I felt so much for. Never had a passion or even a hobby that was my salvation from real life. My salvation was Spike. Even though I’ve been doing pretty well and kind of settling in here with Torran, I know it’s not a permanent solution. The room I’m renting is only for another couple of weeks, and I have no idea where to go from here. I try to avoid speaking with Arianna or Denham as it just makes me want to hop on a plane back home. They never mention Spike, so I presume he’s doing okay. Hearing his voice the other morning was both torturous and welcomed. I’ve lain awake every morning wishing for him to call again, just to hear his voice. Just to talk about the weather. Just to hear him breathing on the end of the line. Anything. I miss him. I miss his comfort, his touch. I wonder what he would think of my tattoo.

“There,” Torran says, wiping my shoulder to clear away the last of the smeared ink. “All done. You wanna get up and look?” I nod enthusiastically and start to jump up. “Whoa. Take it slow, firebird. You’ve been lying down for the best part of an hour.”

“Okay, mom,” I joke, taking his advice and getting up with caution.

He holds out his hand to help me stand and leads me around to the full length mirror. I turn, closing my eyes then opening them slowly to see the art that is forever etched on my skin.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” I whisper.

“What do you think?” he asks, his voice wavering with nervous excitement.

I don’t answer him right away. I can’t find the words. Tears find their way from my eyes in a stream of emotion.

“Oh, shit. You don’t like it.” He swings his head low and scrapes his hand over his stubble. “Shit, look, Lottie, I−”

“It’s perfect,” I whisper as my tears roll over my lips. “I love it.” I spin and fling my arms around his neck, burying my head in his shoulder and hugging him as tight as I can. He wraps me up in his strong arms and holds me tight before nuzzling his chin in to my shoulder and breathing in deeply. The excitement of the moment drops instantly and is replaced with a charge. I look up at him, and his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. His eyes travel back up to mine and he moves in slowly, gently resting his lips on mine. He pulls away for a fraction of a second before his lips crash into mine and he kisses me with force and reckless abandon.

I’m momentarily stunned by his insistent connection. His hands cup the sides of my face and the carnal instinct in me takes over. I kiss him back. The physical closeness, the intimacy, feels so good. So damn good across every nerve in my body. His tongue probes mine, his teeth nip at my lip, tugging then sucking.

Fuck. My head screams. It’s sensory overload and for a split second it’s everything I want. Then his thumb grazes my collarbone, which makes me feel incredibly exposed in my strapless top. The passion is sucked out of me in an instant and I feel like I can’t breathe.

“Oh god.” I push at his chest and jump back from him. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“Lottie,” he pleads. “I shouldn’t have …”

“I can’t do it,” I mutter repeatedly under my breath. “I can’t do it.” I grab up my shirt and purse before fumbling with the door handle.

“Lottie, look, I’m sorry. Lottie,” he calls out behind me, but I continue to push forward.

“It’s fine,” I offer, trying to make him feel better, but I’m feeling anything but fine. “I have to go.” I slip out of the door, closing it behind me trying to put distance between us.

I always loved the ocean as a kid. Never got to go there often, but it’s been bliss living by the sea while I’ve been here. But sitting here as the sun sets over the sea and the wind whips the waves over the stony water’s edge, it feels different. Maybe it’s my mood that alters how I view my surroundings. The grey, heavy clouds move fast overhead and I rest back on my elbows, looking out at the horizon.

I know I freaked out back there with Torran, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s because he surprised me or if my head’s not ready to be intimate with anyone else just yet. I never knew Torran thought of me like that. He knew that friendship is all I have to offer, for now anyway.

But that kiss. Hot as fuck. I felt it. Everywhere.

Is that the real problem here? Guilt? A hole opens up in my stomach when I think of kissing someone other than Spike and I feel so god damn guilty. I actually feel like I’ve been unfaithful.

Footsteps come close to me and I look up to see Torran. “Peace offering?” He pushes a Starbucks cup at me. “Hot chocolate. Thought you’d be cold down here.”

I sigh and move to stand, but he sits right next to me and hands me the cup. “Torr, I−”

“No need to say anything, firebird. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know you’re not ready, and honestly, I don’t know why I did it. It was just in the heat of the moment.”