He blinked, and stared at the dark ceiling above him. Something wet and cool was dripping off his stomach.
“Shit. Fucking mate dreams.” Julian peeled the wet sheets from his body with a sigh. The mate dreams were getting more and more intense. If he didn’t find a way to get Cyn into his bed soon he’d go insane. He was tired of coming alone, tired of sleeping alone.
And he was damn tired of washing the sheets every night. He stripped the bed, tossing his dirty shorts in the pile. He used the edge of the sheet to clean himself off, grimacing at the sticky mess. His water bill was going to be through the roof at this rate. He put the dirty laundry in the washer and started it. He leaned against it for a moment and wished with all his heart that his mate were waiting for him in the other room.
Soon, Julian. Soon.
“You want a what now?” Cyn hid her grin. Damn, the girl had found some balls.
“I want a tattoo.” Heather Allen handed her a folded slip of paper. “This is what I want.”
Cyn unfolded the paper and stared at the gorgeous, yet sad, drawing. “Are you sure about this?”
Heather scowled, an expression Cyn was delighted to see. “I’m eighteen. I can do this if I want.”
Cyn shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She shook the paper. “Are you sure about this? A tattoo is forever.”
Heather looked scared and relieved at the same time. She gulped, her green gaze bright and resolute. “I’m positive.”
Cyn sighed. “Black and white or color?”
“Yes!” Heather danced a little jig and Cyn laughed. If Eric could only see her now. She stopped and shot Cyn a happy little smile that lit her whole face. “Color, I think.”
“Just so you know, color costs more and will hurt more.” Heather tilted her head, the happy smile dimming. “You’ll be under the needle for longer.” Cyn shrugged. “It’s still your choice, but you need to understand what’s going to happen in the other room.”
Heather bit her lip. Cyn could practically see the wheels turning. “How much will it cost?”
Cyn named a price that was half what she would have charged anyone else. “But that’s the family discount, so don’t go bragging how cheap this was.”
Heather hugged her tight, surprising her. The girl was strong for such a little slip of a thing. She might weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but only if she was in one of those heavily padded parkas. “Definitely color.” She kissed Cyn’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Cyn hugged her back. “You’re welcome.” She led Heather toward the back room, where she would discuss what colors the girl wanted. Heather had handed her a black and white drawing, but it would look stunning in blues and greens on the girl’s pale skin. She took another look at the drawing. “You’re going to school for art, right?”
Heather shook her head, her shoulders hunching in that awful protective pose Cyn had noted in Frank’s. “I want to, but…”
“But?” Who was stomping on this poor kid’s dreams? Cyn would have to have a chat with them. Preferably with a baseball bat.
“The others think I should go to the community college and study bookkeeping.”
“Ew.” Cyn wrinkled her nose, glad when Heather giggled. “Seriously. Bookkeeping?”
“I know, right?” Heather settled in the chair and bared her shoulder.
“You should be the one to decide what you want to do, not anyone else. You think I’d have this shop if I’d listened to the nay-sayers?” Cyn wiped Heather’s shoulder down with alcohol, cleansing the area for the tattoo. “If I’d listened to the people who thought I shouldn’t be a tattoo artist I’d probably be stuck in a hideous brown uniform asking people if they want fries with that.”
Heather sighed. “All I want to do is paint. Is that so wrong?”
“Nope. Have you applied to art school?”
Heather shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with your family when half of them can eat you in two bites.”
Cyn rolled her stool until she was face to face with Heather. “I tell you what. You go and apply to art school. See if you get in. If it doesn’t work out, you come see me.”
Heather frowned. “Why?”
Cyn shrugged. “I could use an apprentice.” Tabby was ready to fly on her own; hell, Cyn was considering making her a partner. Cyn, Glory and Tabby meshed together beautifully, even when they bitched at each other. They had become family, the three of them, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Besides, Heather reminded her of both Tabby and Glory. Both women had been hurt by life. Cyn made sure they had a safe place to land and a willing ear to listen. She was more than willing to do the same for Heather.
Huge green eyes blinked at her, like a startled doe. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think you had talent.” From the small glimpse she’d seen of Heather’s work, the girl would make a killing as a tattoo artist. She’d just have to figure out how to rid her of her fear of large men, especially Alex. Maybe she could have Alex dance the Macarena in front of her? Not even Chuck Norris could look intimidating dancing to that.
Heather gripped Cyn’s hand fiercely. “I’d like to.”
Cyn grinned. “So would I.” She winked and stood, dragging the Fox up with her. “Lesson one: mixing ink.”
Heather followed Cyn into the back room, all eager questions and bright smiles. Cyn mentally patted herself on the back.
This was going to work out just fine.
Julian decided to pay a visit to his favorite Fox. Julian followed Chloe into her tiny living room, watching the weary way she moved through the space. The girl looked like she’d been beaten with a stick, which was a damn sight better than she’d looked the first time he saw her, broken, bleeding and dying in the middle of the road. The rejection by her mate was only adding to the toll on her. If Jim Woods didn’t come to his senses soon Julian was going to hunt the fucker down and force the shift on him. Maybe that would show him exactly what he was doing to the poor, injured Fox. “How are you feeling?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. Her long red hair had been shorn short for surgery, and she missed it bitterly. “The usable.”
He hid his wince. The doctors weren’t certain whether or not her language problem would clear up, but her hand would never again have the dexterity necessary for surgery. Chloe’s scholarship, and her career, had flown out of her grasp. “Yeah.” He ran his fingers through her shorn hair and winced in sympathy. He’d cleared up as much of the damage as he could, saving her life and nearly losing his own, but the damage had been severe and extensive. Not even Tai would have been able to do more. Hell, Julian was surprised she’d survived, and he’d been the one to heal her.
“Shit. Fucking mate dreams.” Julian peeled the wet sheets from his body with a sigh. The mate dreams were getting more and more intense. If he didn’t find a way to get Cyn into his bed soon he’d go insane. He was tired of coming alone, tired of sleeping alone.
And he was damn tired of washing the sheets every night. He stripped the bed, tossing his dirty shorts in the pile. He used the edge of the sheet to clean himself off, grimacing at the sticky mess. His water bill was going to be through the roof at this rate. He put the dirty laundry in the washer and started it. He leaned against it for a moment and wished with all his heart that his mate were waiting for him in the other room.
Soon, Julian. Soon.
“You want a what now?” Cyn hid her grin. Damn, the girl had found some balls.
“I want a tattoo.” Heather Allen handed her a folded slip of paper. “This is what I want.”
Cyn unfolded the paper and stared at the gorgeous, yet sad, drawing. “Are you sure about this?”
Heather scowled, an expression Cyn was delighted to see. “I’m eighteen. I can do this if I want.”
Cyn shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She shook the paper. “Are you sure about this? A tattoo is forever.”
Heather looked scared and relieved at the same time. She gulped, her green gaze bright and resolute. “I’m positive.”
Cyn sighed. “Black and white or color?”
“Yes!” Heather danced a little jig and Cyn laughed. If Eric could only see her now. She stopped and shot Cyn a happy little smile that lit her whole face. “Color, I think.”
“Just so you know, color costs more and will hurt more.” Heather tilted her head, the happy smile dimming. “You’ll be under the needle for longer.” Cyn shrugged. “It’s still your choice, but you need to understand what’s going to happen in the other room.”
Heather bit her lip. Cyn could practically see the wheels turning. “How much will it cost?”
Cyn named a price that was half what she would have charged anyone else. “But that’s the family discount, so don’t go bragging how cheap this was.”
Heather hugged her tight, surprising her. The girl was strong for such a little slip of a thing. She might weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but only if she was in one of those heavily padded parkas. “Definitely color.” She kissed Cyn’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Cyn hugged her back. “You’re welcome.” She led Heather toward the back room, where she would discuss what colors the girl wanted. Heather had handed her a black and white drawing, but it would look stunning in blues and greens on the girl’s pale skin. She took another look at the drawing. “You’re going to school for art, right?”
Heather shook her head, her shoulders hunching in that awful protective pose Cyn had noted in Frank’s. “I want to, but…”
“But?” Who was stomping on this poor kid’s dreams? Cyn would have to have a chat with them. Preferably with a baseball bat.
“The others think I should go to the community college and study bookkeeping.”
“Ew.” Cyn wrinkled her nose, glad when Heather giggled. “Seriously. Bookkeeping?”
“I know, right?” Heather settled in the chair and bared her shoulder.
“You should be the one to decide what you want to do, not anyone else. You think I’d have this shop if I’d listened to the nay-sayers?” Cyn wiped Heather’s shoulder down with alcohol, cleansing the area for the tattoo. “If I’d listened to the people who thought I shouldn’t be a tattoo artist I’d probably be stuck in a hideous brown uniform asking people if they want fries with that.”
Heather sighed. “All I want to do is paint. Is that so wrong?”
“Nope. Have you applied to art school?”
Heather shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with your family when half of them can eat you in two bites.”
Cyn rolled her stool until she was face to face with Heather. “I tell you what. You go and apply to art school. See if you get in. If it doesn’t work out, you come see me.”
Heather frowned. “Why?”
Cyn shrugged. “I could use an apprentice.” Tabby was ready to fly on her own; hell, Cyn was considering making her a partner. Cyn, Glory and Tabby meshed together beautifully, even when they bitched at each other. They had become family, the three of them, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Besides, Heather reminded her of both Tabby and Glory. Both women had been hurt by life. Cyn made sure they had a safe place to land and a willing ear to listen. She was more than willing to do the same for Heather.
Huge green eyes blinked at her, like a startled doe. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think you had talent.” From the small glimpse she’d seen of Heather’s work, the girl would make a killing as a tattoo artist. She’d just have to figure out how to rid her of her fear of large men, especially Alex. Maybe she could have Alex dance the Macarena in front of her? Not even Chuck Norris could look intimidating dancing to that.
Heather gripped Cyn’s hand fiercely. “I’d like to.”
Cyn grinned. “So would I.” She winked and stood, dragging the Fox up with her. “Lesson one: mixing ink.”
Heather followed Cyn into the back room, all eager questions and bright smiles. Cyn mentally patted herself on the back.
This was going to work out just fine.
Julian decided to pay a visit to his favorite Fox. Julian followed Chloe into her tiny living room, watching the weary way she moved through the space. The girl looked like she’d been beaten with a stick, which was a damn sight better than she’d looked the first time he saw her, broken, bleeding and dying in the middle of the road. The rejection by her mate was only adding to the toll on her. If Jim Woods didn’t come to his senses soon Julian was going to hunt the fucker down and force the shift on him. Maybe that would show him exactly what he was doing to the poor, injured Fox. “How are you feeling?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. Her long red hair had been shorn short for surgery, and she missed it bitterly. “The usable.”
He hid his wince. The doctors weren’t certain whether or not her language problem would clear up, but her hand would never again have the dexterity necessary for surgery. Chloe’s scholarship, and her career, had flown out of her grasp. “Yeah.” He ran his fingers through her shorn hair and winced in sympathy. He’d cleared up as much of the damage as he could, saving her life and nearly losing his own, but the damage had been severe and extensive. Not even Tai would have been able to do more. Hell, Julian was surprised she’d survived, and he’d been the one to heal her.
