She was easy to talk to and she had a delicate touch. The tattoo still stung, each swirl and sweep making him very aware of his skin, but it was a good kind of pain. Distracting.
She stopped tattooing to dip the needles in more of the ink, her black gloves speckled with a glossy coating where the dark color had splattered. “You doing okay? Bleeding a little more than what I like to see, but it’s probably just the alcohol in your system.”
“Yeah, fine.” Dy grunted, then turned his head to the other side, so he could rest it on his folded forearms. He heard the snap as the electricity hit the machine, then the buzz that followed—a calming kind of sound. She wiped the spot she was working on. Dyami found the smell of antiseptic comforting, but the scratch of the paper towel almost more painful than the needles. With a dab of Vaseline to lube his skin, Summer repositioned and then went at it again. The outline hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought it would. Breaking the skin was usually the worst part. Now she was working on the coloring-in portion which meant more needles, and in places, more intensity, but overall not too bad. He sucked in a deep breath, let it go slowly, the waves of sensation drowning out everything else.
“So what’s it like being a famous rock star?”
There was teasing in her voice. He liked that she wasn’t the type to get star-struck. “Meh.” He turned his head so he could see her again, her face hovering above her hand as she tattooed him. She was engrossed by her job, a frown pulling her delicate eyebrows into a deep v. “It pays the bills.”
She snorted a laugh. “I bet it does!”
“It’s a great gig. I get to be on stage almost every night, kicking ass with my drums. I’m lucky. To be able to make money off my passion is something most people don’t get a chance to do.”
“Yeah, that’s the way it is with art, right? If you’re lucky enough to do what you love and make enough to get by, then you’re set.” Summer smirked. “Although I’m just a lowly tattoo artist, nothing even close to comparison with Mr. Rock Star of a Super Band.”
Dy chuckled, the tension in his body easing with each swipe of her hand. “So, you gonna tell me about your ink or what? Those are some cool looking designs you’ve got on your arms. I’m dying to know. Me. Dyami, rock star of the super band Riot, wants to know about your tattoos.” He smiled when she snapped her gaze to meet his. “You should feel important or something.”
“Or something.” She teased as she pulled back, wiping his skin with the paper towel and scrutinizing her work. She dipped the needles, leaned over him once again and sighed. “They’re just some symbols I drew up.”
“Do they mean something?”
She shrugged, pushed a loose strand of hair back from her face with her arm. “Don’t know. I dream them up and then ink them on.”
“Do you tattoo yourself?” He was impressed. The work was impeccable, straight lines, everything balanced. He was amazed she could do it on herself.
“Not all of it. No. I prefer to do it myself, but some of the ones in those hard-to-reach places I had others do. For the most part, it’s me, though.”
“Cool.” He could tell she wasn’t giving him all the details. He didn’t begrudge her her secrets. He had some himself.
“You know what’s funny?” She was changing the subject, he didn’t begrudge her that either.
“What?”
“I learned how to draw fine facial features because of your front man, Mayhem.”
He cocked an eyebrow. A tug of jealousy rearing.
Jealous? Over what?
She smiled, a bit of a blush painting her cheeks as she continued to work. “Yeah, his face is really distinctive. I was mesmerized by him.”
“Until you noticed his drummer,” Dy teased, suddenly getting a strange lump at the back of his throat, a growl trapped there.
She smiled, shook her head. “I practiced drawing his face, knew that if I could nail his features, I could draw just about anyone.” She wiped again, then sat back and shrugged, finally making eye contact. “You have to admit, he is a captivating persona. His eyes, in particular, bewitching almost…that blue, the strange sparkle…captivating.”
“Okay, okay, I get it, you’ve got a crush on the front man. Who doesn’t? Sheesh!”
Summer smiled. “Nah, I’m not into long haired freaky people.”
“What do you like?” He hedged his words, his breath catching. Then wondered why the hell he cared so much about her answer.
She bent over him, needles in ink, then on his skin once again. “I find that guys with long hair tend to have some ego issues. They’re too, I don’t know, pretty.” She laughed.
Deflecting his question. Okay, he could roll with that. He liked this girl. She made him feel calm, and not only because she was giving him some ink. He wanted to spend more time with her. Might as well cut straight to it. “So what do you say we go for something to eat later? Maybe check out a concert tonight? I know a guy who knows a guy, could get you back stage for one of the biggest rock bands in the US.” He winked when she meet his gaze again.
“I don’t think my boyfriend would be too cool with that. Unless of course you’d want to invite him along?”
Boyfriend. Shit. That sucks. “Nah, no worries and no offense.”
“You didn’t offend me. Doesn’t hurt to ask. It’s not like I’m wearing a ring or anything.”
“But you are committed. My loss. I could swing you guys some comps though if you want to come by the show.”
Summer shrugged. “Vic’s not really the concert going type. Thanks, though. If it were just me, I’d be there.”
“Ohh, shot down twice.” He winked again, faking ease where there suddenly was none. His wolf was prowling, consciousness coming online and to the surface. This was normally the wolf’s time, daylight the catalyst for transformation. Dy wasn’t worried about that happening. He knew he was too weak, but his wolf was agitated, more so than usual. “How’s the tat coming along? Almost done?”
“Yeah, twenty more minutes or so. You holding up okay? Been a long sit with no break.”
“I’m good.”
A heavy silence fell, not awkward, but the ease Dy had felt seemed to suck itself right out of the room. His wolf was nudging him, the pain from the poison intensifying.
What the hell?
He pulled inward, trying to communicate, but his beast was nonsensical—delirious from its battle with the poison, adamant that he find his Huntress.
“I know. I’m working on it. Just hang on.”
But they both knew that was a lie. He had no ability to seek out his Huntress, especially with his wolf so distracted. Any instinct to propel him to her was being eaten up by the struggle to keep the poison at bay.
“Summer?” A booming voice echoed down the hall. “Sweetheart, you back there?”
Dy snapped out of his beastly parley and craned his head up to catch her eye. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
“All done.” Summer gave a quick nod and took a final wipe of his back. “Why don’t you take a look?” She peeled her gloves off and handed him a mirror, then nodded toward the large mirror on the wall. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Dy took the handheld and pushed himself up. His head was a little woozy, his wolf still prowling, nagging at him. “Look. Look.” But look where he wasn’t sure.
He checked out the tattoo. She’d done an amazing job. The script was beautiful, her work flawless. Voices touched his sensitive ears, a whispered giggle. He peeked out the door and down the long hallway. Summer had her back to him, arms around the neck of a large man who was kissing her fiercely, his hands on her ass.
Must be Vic, the boyfriend.
Another wash of dizziness rolled through him and he stumbled back, letting out a hiss of pain as his newly inked flesh rubbed against the wall. His wolf growled, snapping his attention to focus. “Danger. There is danger.” Dy needed to get out of there. He wasn’t sure what the hell was up, but he felt a kind of rage building, like he was going to lose his shit at any moment. His wolf so agitated that he was lunging at the surface of control.
Time to go.
He pulled out a wad of cash and peeled off ten bills. Too much for sure, but he wanted to give Summer something that would make her smile. He dropped the money on the table, and snatched up his shirt. He was pulling it on as he exited the room and almost barreled over Summer in his haste.
“Hey, where are you going? I need to bandage you up.” Her hands were on his chest, and his instinctively came around her waist so he didn’t knock her over.
She felt so good up against him like that. Too good. His wolf growled again.
“Yeah, I gotta go.” He pushed himself back, the loss of her warmth like a gap opening in his heart. “I left some money for ya on the table. Thanks for doing this for me.”
Summer frowned. “You okay? You don’t look so hot right now. Maybe you should sit down.”
He shook his head and pushed past her, images of her kissing her boyfriend flashing in his mind. His brain was fuzzy, his wolf demanding attention.
Not now. Not now.
She trailed behind him as he thundered down the hall. Panic seized his gut, his wolf punching through.
“Dy, don’t go.”
He barely heard her as he entered the front reception area of the shop. Her guy was still there, seated on one of the couches. He glanced up from the magazine he was reading, an eyebrow cocked, smile turning into a frown as he glanced from Dy to his own arm where the tattooed image of a wolf seemed to be almost pulsing, his skin undulating.
As their eyes locked, Dy’s wolf roared.
“Hunter.” Dy’s fangs pushed through his gums. His claws burst at his fingertips. His wolf fighting for control over his body, the poison keeping his transformation from taking hold.
“What the fuck are you doing here, beast?” The man stood, reaching behind him and retrieving a blade—one he immediately threw.
It slammed into Dy’s shoulder, making him stagger back, pain ripping through him.
“Vic, what are you doing?” Summer screamed, rushed toward Dy, then halted as she suddenly took in his appearance. “What’s wrong with him? Dy, what’s happening to you?”
In a hazy fog, Dyami stumbled to his knees, his body warring with itself, the transformation starting, stopping. He was in hell.
I’m going to die, right here, right now.
“Summer, get the fuck away from him!” Vic made a move to pull her back—away from Dy.
Like hell.
Without pulling the knife out of his shoulder, he lunged for Summer. Snatching her ankle, he dragged her down and then sank his fangs into her leg. His wolf roared. “Huntress. Mine.”