Page 11 of Midnight Ink

I see Anna walk by us with a tray. “Hey. Quick.” She stops, facing me. “Tell him I won’t murder him.”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “He’s a big nut sack.”

“Nut—you mean pussy?” he asks.

Anna’s brows climb to her hairline.

Oh shit, here we go.

“You mean is Maddox the most majestic, powerful, strong, beautiful portal from which all life comes through?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten her started.” I shake my head.

“No. I meant what I said. A nut sack. Weak.” My best friend, everyone. “He’s a squish. He won’t hurt you. Pro tip—if he does somehow go manic and try to kill you, just pinch his nipple, really hard.”

He laughs. “Does he hate that?”

“No. Makes him come.”

“Okay, get the fuck out of here.” She winks and keeps going to her table. “I won’t kill you.”

“Or come.” He smirks.

“Mmm, that depends how much you like the tattoo.” His face brightens. “In all seriousness⁠—”

“Are you capable?”

I look at him flatly. “In all seriousness, I won’t hurt you. I’m practicing and hoping to open my own shop. Free of charge. First tattoo free. As long as I can take a picture for my portfolio.”

He thinks a moment. “Okay.”

Damn, I’m excited, but I don’t know if it’s to tattoo or spend time with this guy. I stand, holding out my hand. “My name’s Maddox. I live down at Maple Ridge. I’ll drive us down.”

He smiles, taking my hand in his. “My name’s Ian.”

THREE

IAN

“Fucking fuck!” I stop my machine and wait, even though he didn’t ask me to. And I don’t comment on the blood even though I want to. I knew this was going to be rough, but it’s on a different level. Not much shakes me after years of putting ink on skin, but this is turning my stomach.

I’m nearly done with the outline, though. I hope he can sit long enough for me to finish it. “I’m okay,” Jamie finally says.

I knew he’d say that. Maddox used to tell me he’d push himself too much. “We can take a break. No problem.”

I glance up at his face, his eyes pinched shut. I have him lying on the table with a pillow because I was afraid having him sit in the chair would hurt his back more.

“No. It’s almost done, right?”

“Jamie—”

“It’s okay. I got this.” I should have started with the scarred parts, maybe it would have been easier to get through. Note for next time. Our door opens and I half expect to see Noah, Jamie’s fiancé, but instead my attention catches on Julian.

More so my attention catches on the white tank top he’s wearing, with the extremely wide arm holes—if they can even be called that. They’re wide enough to display his ribs almost down to his waist. The lion I tattooed pops against his umber skin. It’s aged well. Still clear and crisp as the day he got it.

The same day we met.

It’s funny, when we met he had no tattoos, but now they cover his body. I think he has more than me at this point.