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That was awfully judgmental. There had to be a story there, but I doubt he’d ever willingly let it spill.
“Do you think that about mine?”
He paused, and the driver glanced over at him, no doubt sensing the weight behind my question. Ronan took his time answering, and when he did, it was as maddening as his silence.
“I don’t.” That was it. That long pause had earned me two words.
One of these days, I was going to take a pair of scissors and chop off his tie. Then I was going to mess up his hair and make him smile without reservation. He was asking for it, behaving this way.
We were dropped off on a different sidewalk, and even though he’d told me to let him lead, I charged ahead into Skinwalkers. One of my favorite humans, Joaquin Tomas, waited for me behind the reception desk with a wide smile and open arms. I ran to him, jumping up and wrapping myself around him like a monkey.
He laughed and spun me in a slow circle. “Hey, pretty girl. There’s a giant in a suit following you.”
“Oh, I know.” He set me on my feet, and I hooked my arm around his middle so I could turn and stare at Ronan with him. “That’s my bodyguard. He claims to be human, but I’ve seen no evidence of that. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to ignore him, but I’m not clear on that yet.”
Ronan was an imposing sight, standing just inside the door, slowly surveying the tattoo shop. At least he didn’t wear sunglasses and an earpiece. That would have been a bridge too far.
Joaquin took it upon himself to shake Ronan’s hand and invite him to come back to his personal space, where I’d be spending the next few hours getting abused in the way I loved.
Skinwalkers was an old-fashioned tattoo shop, with checkerboard floors, framed line art of pinups and anchors, and dark wooden half walls separating tattoo stations. There were a few artists working on clients, and a cute pierced chick with gauged ears at the reception desk. No one paid me any attention. The last time I came in, I had to go around signing autographs and posing for pics. This time, the receptionist only had eyes for Ronan, but I couldn’t tell if she was looking at him with lust or fear. Maybe both.
Joaquin’s station was in the very back, offering a little more privacy than the others. In the center was a red padded bed, which I knew from experience was comfortable as hell. He kept everything pristine, so clean the surfaces practically shined.
While Joaquin prepared his station, I decided to give Ronan a break. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. Joaquin can protect me.”
Ronan took a seat in a metal-legged chair in the corner of the room. “I’m all right here.”
I perched on the bed where I’d soon be lying, swinging my feet and twisting my fingers. Ronan’s gaze zeroed in on my fidgeting, then flicked to meet mine.
“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.
“Antsy, and maybe a little nervous. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Understatement. I was a walking flash wall, as Logan had liked to call me. Asshole.
He rubbed the corners of his mouth. “Does it hurt?”
“It does. Joaquin’s going to finish the linework on a large piece, then he’s going to start the shading. I am dreading when he shades my ribs.” I shivered and kicked my feet even harder. “It’s worth it, though.”
Before he could ask another question, Joaquin announced he was ready and it was time for me to lie down. I took off my hoodie and tossed it to Ronan. He clutched it with both hands and leaned forward in his chair, watching with intent. I didn’t mind being watched, and I especially liked how it felt to have his eyes on me like this.
Joaquin pinched the end of my wife beater. “I need access to your entire back, baby. Off with this.”
With one arm banded over my tits, I pulled my tank over my head, letting it puddle on top of my arm, and lay face down on the bed. From his corner, Ronan shifted forward and made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl.
Joaquin laughed softly. “Oh, the big man doesn’t like that,” he whispered.
I turned my head away from Ronan to grin at Joaquin. “He might be taking the guarding my body part of his job too seriously.”
Another rumble from over my shoulder said we weren’t being as quiet as we thought. I turned my head back to meet Ronan’s simmering gaze.
“It’s just skin. It’s kind of Joaquin’s trade.” I really didn’t want a surly bodyguard killing my vibes. Getting tattooed was painful, but it could also be an exercise in meditation. I might’ve been a little bit addicted.
“I didn’t say a word,” he replied.
“You didn’t have to.” My lids lowered as my body relaxed into the table. I’d been needing this appointment more than I realized. Getting a tattoo was like going to the spa for me. Pity I only had so much skin.
Joaquin turned on some lo-fi music to play in the background of the constant buzz of his tattoo gun. My muscles tensed at the first stinging touch. It took me a solid minute to get used to it and allow my lungs to fully expand. My eyes stayed locked with Ronan’s the whole time. His jaw flickered with tension. When I finally exhaled a great breath, he did too.
He didn’t ask if I was okay, and I liked that. I let my gaze travel over him, from the perfect roundness of his earlobes, to the ninety-degree angle of the corner of his jaw, to his pale brows and tidy hair. His spine was straight, hands clasped in his lap, watching me survey him. I wondered if he ever just chilled or if he was in a constant state of alert.
