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“Uhhh, okay…” I respond, taking his hand and hopping out of the Jeep. The minute my feet touch the asphalt, he’s pulling me. There’s a slam of the car door and then a beep as he locks the door. We walk right by the Chinese restaurant’s door. Right up to the tattoo parlor.
“Maverick, what…” I don’t even get to finish my sentence. The bell chimes as we walk inside, and we are immediately greeted by the receptionist.
“Welcome to Townsend Tattoos. How can I help you?” The receptionist's voice is chipper in a way that seems to compliment his friendly appearance. For a tattoo parlor employee, he’s got very few tattoos, shockingly blond hair, and baby-blue eyes. From his scent, I can tell he’s a beta. On the stronger side, but still a beta. The shiny white name tag says his name is Jesse.
Jesse looks at me for an answer, and he must look a little too long for Maverick’s liking because I feel him stiffen at my side.
“We’ve got a six o’clock with B.” His words are clipped. Jesse looks at Maverick, sees the possessiveness burning a hole through him, and just rolls his eyes. It makes me want to laugh, but I choke it back.
“Relax, I’m taken.” Jesse pulls his black T-shirt to the side by the neck, exposing a bite mark on top of his shoulder. A very pink, raw bite mark. Given within the past few days, if I were to guess.
“Congratulations.” I smile at him, genuine and cheerful in hopes that my mood settles Maverick’s simmering jealousy.
“Thank you.” Jesse’s returning smile is beaming. “I’ll tell B you’re here.” Then he disappears down the hallway.
I turn to Maverick and raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“Sorry, can’t help it sometimes.” He manages to look chagrined and somehow completely unrepentant at the same time as he shrugs.
“So what are you getting?” I ask him, moving away from the satisfied smile he’s wearing.
“Me? Oh, I’m not getting anything. We’re here for you.”
“Me?” I hiss at him in a whispered voice. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”
That smile he was wearing turns into a patient and unbothered soft smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can turn around right now, grab some dinner, and go home. But I thought maybe you’d want to cover your scars this way. With something beautiful. Ofyourchoosing.”
The way he saysscarswith gritted teeth, I know he’s doing his best to avoid saying mate marks. Of all of them, he gets the most upset thinking about my having a different pack before them. Not only having a different pack but forging bonds with people who aren’t them. My fated mates.
And I get it. If the roles were reversed, I’d want to hunt down the omega that tricked them and kill her with my bare hands.
I must be quiet too long or have a murderous look on my face thinking about any of them being in my position because Maverick’s smile drops, and he starts looking a little nervous. “Did I overstep? I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you the choice. I saw you crying the other morning, looking at the one on your hip. But we don’t have to do this. We can look into other ways to cover them. Or maybe we could find someone to do laser scar removal. Or you can keep th–”
I tug him down by the front of his shirt so I can shut up his word vomit with a kiss.
“This is…perfect. Thank you,” I whisper, after I pull back. His eyes shine full of love, and he takes my face gently with both hands, kissing me chastely once more before whispering, “You’re welcome,” back to me.
A throat clears from behind me. “B is ready when you are,” Jesse grins.
Eighteen
Summer
Jesse escortsus down the hall, not even waiting for us to follow him. Buzzing sounds as we pass by three different rooms before reaching our own at the very end. The three before this one all had tattoo artists who were hulking alpha males. Covered head to toe in tattoos and bent over some body part or another, tattooing their canvas. Which is why I startle a little at my tattoo artist. Still covered in tattoos but much, much smaller than the other three. And female. And stunning. She’s got silvery-colored hair with lavender and pink streaks throughout.
“Hey, I’m Bailee. But all my friends call me B,” she says, walking up to me and extending a hand to shake. Her scent is sweet, with a spicy undertone that compliments the fruity tones perfectly. Based on the layers of additional scents hidden beneath her own, she’s a mated omega, too.
“Summer,” I tell her, shaking her hand.
Her head swivels toward Maverick’s, and he gives his name, too. But she doesn’t approach him to shake his hand. Which makes my omega purr in approval. Sometimes, I really hate biology.
“So… Summer, from the notes, it looks like you’re the one I’m tattooing. I wasn’t told what, though. Do you have any inspo pictures, or would you like to take a look at my work?” B takes a seat on a swivel rolling chair and rolls herself back to the countertop, snags a thick binder, and rolls to me, handing it over.
“Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about it.” My smile is apologetic. It makes Maverick jump to my defense.
“I kind of sprung this on her. As a surprise.” This makes B’s eyes raise up to her hairline.
“Do you want a tattoo?” Her eyes rake over my completely tattoo-less body with a semi-disbelieving look.
