AllFreeNovel
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Our RV is valet parked at the Watergate Hotel in D.C. It’s a gorgeous hotel. Our modern room is decorated in cool caramels, grays and whites. It has a small balcony overlooking the interior of the hotel. It’s sparsely furnished and feels open and clean. Only the essentials are included. It’s perfect.
We unpack and Connor orders room service and arranges for laundry service to clean our clothes tomorrow. I’m impressed at how he thinks of everything. No detail is left to chance. The entire trip is organized and orchestrated to be sure I have the time of my life. And I am. I’ve missed so much over the past five years. I was hiding. Hiding from the world and hiding from myself.
I wanted to protect myself from hurt. Instead, I sheltered myself away from the joy the world has to offer. Life is a two-sided coin. There is pain and devastation and loss, but there is beauty and laughter and love, too. Connor has shown me that. He’s opened himself up to me, and has made me feel safe in doing so with him. It’s hard for me to speak my truth — to reveal the many ways I’m broken inside. It scares me that I’ll be too much for him. But each time I brave my fears and tell him a little more, I feel less heavy, not more anxious. It’s the opposite of how I thought I’d feel.
I undress and pile the clothes I’ve been sleeping in for the past two days into the laundry bag the hotel has provided. The white gauze patch is still there covering the tattoo Connor has put on my body, claiming me as his own.
“Don’t take that off yet,” Connor warns. “Just shower with it on. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I nod, grinning at the idea that he plans to join me in the oversized shower. Showers with Connor always seem to involve some sort of sexual activity. I suppose I started that a few weeks ago in Georgia at the spa. Wow! A few weeks? That’s all it’s been? But Georgia — Dr. Krazanski — was right. All of this time with Connor is like dating in dog years. One day is equal to a week. A week is equal to a month. And by the time we’re done and on our way back home, it will feel like years with this man.
Steam fills the bathroom as Connor steps in and clicks the glass shower door closed behind him. He washes me slowly, starting with my hair and then down until every inch of me is clean. Then, it’s my turn to return the favor and I can feel his arousal begin to flex, as the one-eyed monster wakes up between his legs. My Inner Sex Goddess is now soaking wet at the prospects ahead of us tonight.
When we step out of the shower, Connor goes to one knee and kisses all around my new tattoo. The tape used to keep the gauze on peels away easily. He kisses the spot and I feel it burn slightly as if my skin has been scratched, but it’s not painful anymore.
“It turned out so great, Lainey Bird. Are you ready to see it?” His eyes are alight with excitement and I can tell he’s pleased.
I nod, eager to see how this man has marked me. I’m nervous, too, but mostly excited. I know whatever it is, it’s going to be stunning. When he stands and moves aside from the mirror, I am not disappointed. It’s quite honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
A thumb-sized dandelion has been painted in black on my skin. Tufts of seeds being blown in a wish float up and over my back and rib cage, up to my shoulder blade. As the seeds float away, their shape morphs into tiny birds. Ravens. I feel myself in this tattoo. Wishes cast into fate’s breeze where I am set free — where I fly.
I inhale sharply. The skin still looks angry and red, but the tattoo is gorgeous and I’m thrilled beyond words at how carefully Connor chose the exact right thing. He’s freed me. He’s marked me. He loves me, and no matter what happens between us, I will forever be free. No longer trapped in the seeds of my wishes. There’s a word beside the stem of the dandelion written in a curling script. It’s hard to read in the mirror.
“What does it say?” I ask, trying not to touch it.
“Evermore.” Connor says. He’s moved behind me and has his arms wrapped around my breasts, touching and caressing them slowly and tenderly.
“What does that mean?”
“I got the idea from this poem Edgar Allen Poe wrote about a visit from a raven. He was mourning his lost love, a woman named Lenore. He was in despair, truly brokenhearted. But then this raven comes to him simply saying ‘Nevermore’ over and over. Poe wants to be uplifted, but he can’t move beyond the sadness. The raven doesn’t care. She just sits, listening, speaking her one word. In the end, he feels his loss, but I think he also feels the company and friendship of the raven. She understands his pain. And instead of removing it, she shares it with him. That’s you, Lainey Bird. You’re my raven, come to be mine. To share and banish my pain. You have already. I will have you as a part of me, not ‘Nevermore,’ as the raven replied, but forever, ‘evermore’.”
Connor’s words are beautiful and I see the emotion of them on his face, watching us in the mirror. Our bodies naked, wrapped around one another, and for this one moment, perfect.
“It’s beautiful, Connor,” I whisper. The words stutter on their way out, trapped in the knot of emotion in my throat.
He kisses me. A hot, wet kiss of dancing tongues and unspoken desire so intense my skin tingles with it.
“Take me to bed,” my Inner Sex Goddess speaks aloud.
Connor makes love to me slowly, but we rise quickly, feeling our bond with every long, easy stroke of our joining. In moments, we are panting, climbing and then flying together.
Our limbs collapse against one another, limp and fully sated. When my breath stills and I can finally speak, I ask him what I had wanted to ask earlier in the bathroom before he’d wooed with his beautiful words and my mark. His mark.
“What did you have done? At the ink shop?” I ask. Connor rolls over to reveal the lion. In his mane, twisted among the wiry hairs and whips is a raven. Its wings are a glossy black, reflecting greens and purples as the light dances off of it. Like the lion, it looks as if it could take flight and swoop around the room in a moment. It’s stunning. It’s me.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, wanting to finger its delicate plumage, but keeping my distance. His skin is tender still, too, no doubt.
He rolls back over and holds me close in his arms. His lips are on my ear and I can feel his breath against my skin. “You’re mine, Lainey Bird. My girl. My Raven.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Evermore.”
