by Jools Louise
“You’re really talented,” Alfie added, refraining from lurching at the poor man again, but only just. He kept looking down at the artwork and listened carefully to Slug describe how he had to take care of the wound until it healed, so it wouldn’t crack. He was handed a tub of tattoo goo to smear on the design and told to cleanse the tat daily with warm water and soap.
“I’m glad you like it,” Slug replied, shrugging, his blush deepening.
“How much do I owe you?” Alfie asked, but he was waved off.
“You’ve done far more for us than we could ever repay,” Slug said, his brown eyes solemn. “This one’s on the house.” He grinned suddenly, transforming his thin face into something truly handsome. Alfie’s breath caught in his throat as he stared. “Besides, once you show everyone how awesome I am, I’ll have more business than I know what to do with. People will be lining up right down the street.” He fist bumped Alfie, who giggled at the bold claim.
“At the very least,” he retorted, grinning back.
“Wow!” Jay said as he came up into the tattoo studio, bringing a tray of their usual coffees and snacks. “You’re gifted, my friend,” he said, admiring the large design that covered Alfie’s breastplate on one side. “Would you do the same for me?” he asked, setting the tray down, then tracing a gentle finger around the edges of the artwork.
“Really?” Slug asked in surprise.
“No, I just thought I’d ask for kicks, so you’d get all excited,” Jay replied drolly, repeating Slug’s own words back at him.
Slug grinned at the comeback and grabbed for a raspberry Danish. “Same design?” he asked.
Jay nodded, then stripped off his T-shirt. “Same design, dude. Do your worst.” He winked at the wolverine and went to sit in the chair, sipping his coffee before lying back.
“This’ll only hurt for, like…two hours,” Slug drawled sardonically, and Alfie giggled at him as the wolverine placed a sheet of plastic over his tattoo, finished up his coffee and Danish, then went to set up for Jay.
Alfie was eager to show off Slug’s artistry, but wanted to wait with Jay. They’d show Mason later, who’d most likely want one, too.
Alfie watched with interest as Slug changed needles, cleared off his work station, then sat down and got to work, his hand moving steadily as he created magic.
“Two hours, you said?” Jay asked, screwing his eyes shut and wrinkling his nose as the needle began to bite.
“Don’t get all emotional on me, will you?” Slug retaliated, grinning. “You don’t want me to think you’re a wuss, do you?”
Jay let out a low growl and relaxed, one turquoise eye opening as he sent Slug a warning glare. “Sweetie, if you can dish it, I can take it, don’t you worry about me.” Then he closed his eyes again and began to breathe through his nose, ignoring Slug’s delighted laughter.
“You can do it,” Alfie laughed, sharing a grin with Slug. “You big, bad old snow leopard.” Jay didn’t say anything, merely curling his lip at the teasing.
“Where are the other slackers?” John called from the bottom of the stairs. “You’ve got customers down here.”
Alfie peered over the railing and looked down into the café below. His eyes widened as he saw five people standing there. “Send them up,” he said, “I’ll call the boys.” As the five new clients wandered up, he directed them to the catalogs of pre-drawn art, advising them the three other artists would be there soon. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed the inn and told Mason to kick their lazy asses out of bed or he’d come over himself to drag them out. He heard Mason, just before he rang off, telling the wolverines they had customers, and repeated Alfie’s warning. Then three cries of surprise and the sound of feet moving quickly.
“They’re on their way,” Mason said with a chuckle. “They were just finishing off something over here.” Then he rang off.
Alfie stared at the phone, then shrugged. He’d ask Mason what he meant later. He heard running footsteps as the wolverines came in fast, then galloped up the stairs, out of breath.
They stared at the five small shifters, stopping dead as they saw who their clients were. For the past two weeks, they’d been busy getting their business set up. At the same time, Luther, Lomax, Ernest, Ruth, and Sian had been getting better. Now, they were standing right there, looking nervously around the place and eyeing the wolverine shifters as though they might suddenly start attacking.
“Hey, guys,” Lash greeted. “Er, we’re late, sorry. Mason had us doing something next door,” he added.
Ruth nodded, smiling briefly. “Ernest here is going to be part of our family,” she explained, her arm around the small ocelot’s thin shoulders. He’d put on weight over the past few weeks, finally eating properly, and looked less like a refugee from a labor camp and more like the handsome young shifter he actually was.
Ernest nodded, looking terrified. “Ruthie and Sian decided we should cement the decision, and brand me,” he said, staring at Ruth as though she were an alien being. “I’m not sure this will be the greatest idea she’s ever had, but I don’t want to piss her off,” he whispered, with a wary look at the little female who grinned back salaciously.
“Honey, I’m full of awesome ideas,” she retorted, kissing his cheek and making him blush bright red. “Just think, you can have my name tattooed anywhere you want on your body,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at him.
“Can’t we just fill in a form at the town hall so people would know?” Ernest asked nervously. He had pale gold eyes and short blond hair that stuck out in little tufts all over his head. Only about five and a half feet in height, he was the smallest of the group.
“Sweetie, you’re not afraid of a little ink, are you?” she asked, challenging him.
“Yes,” he blurted, flushing when everyone laughed.
“Ernest, this won’t hurt too much, if you just want some stylized script on your upper arm or something,” Lash advised, smiling gently. “If you don’t want it, though, you don’t have to.” He sent a guarded look toward Ruth. “Don’t let anyone bully you into doing something that frightens you.”
Ruth scowled at the wolverine, but did look a little sheepishly at Ernest. “Ernest, I’d really like to do this, but it’s okay if you don’t. We’ll just get ours done anyway.” She kissed his cheek again, then pointed to a style she liked and began discussing options with her siblings.
Ernest looked torn, as though he was afraid of having the tat, but also didn’t want to upset the people who had taken him under their wing, bringing him back to the living.
“This one looks pretty cool,” Luther said, indicating a font that the others all agreed upon. “Why don’t we just have initials done, of each of us, and the date we adopted Ernest.” He grinned over at Ernest, who flushed, but looked pleased by the comment.
“I’d like to have it done,” Ernest said quietly, making up his mind finally. “Does it hurt?” he asked Lash who hesitated before answering.
“It stings, like a wasp sting, but this won’t take too long to do—an hour, tops,” Lash answered truthfully.
“Alfie just had one done, a pretty big design, colored in, on his chest,” Slug said, still focused on Jay. “He took it like a champ,” he said, winking at Alfie who gave a pleased smile.
“Why don’t you get Lash to do the first initial, then if you really don’t feel like it today, we can add the others another time,” he said.
Ernest wandered over to where Jay lay on the chair, watching as Slug skimmed the tattoo pen over Jay’s muscular pec repeatedly. Slug had shaved the area first and was now drawing the outline of the three shifter faces.
“Could I have an ocelot and a serval face, under the initials?” he asked. “Maybe have our names surrounding the faces?”
Slug gave him a nod, smiling gently. “Anything you like,” he replied, then turned back to the job in hand.
Ernest looked at the four serval siblings. “Is that okay?” he asked.
“Honey, that’s a great
idea,” Sian said, hugging Ernest as she came over to his side, watching with him as Slug worked.
“How about I draw the outline, then my brethren can copy that onto each of you?” Lash suggested, going to his workstation and sitting down. He got out a drawing pad and began drawing freehand, quickly coming up with a beautiful design surpassing the servals’ expectations, and left them murmuring in admiration.
“Do you want to go first, see how it’s done?” Lash asked Ernest, who nodded. “Let me just trace this for Rage and Charm, then, and we’ll get started,” he said, indicating Ernest sit in the chair next to the workstation.
Within a few minutes, he’d traced the design onto a piece of thin paper, then passed the pad to Rage, who copied it in the same way. Rage looked at Ruth with a raised eyebrow, challenging her to go next. With a huff of disdain, as though it was no big deal, she went and sat at Rage’s workstation, curling her lip at her brothers’ chuckles. Sian went to stand at the top of the stairs, smiling. “I’ll go get us some snacks and drinks,” she said to the room at large. “While my brave brothers and sister get theirs done.” With a quick wave, she trotted down to the café.
“So, bro, you or me next?” Luther asked his brother Lomax.
“Let’s flip for it, shall we?” Lomax declared, taking a quarter from his pocket and throwing it in the air.
“Heads,” Luther called, grimacing when it landed on tails. “Dammit,” he cursed, looking at Charm. The spike-haired shifter winked his pale eyes, smirking at the serval shifter.
“Third time’s the charm,” he quipped, bowing low and inviting Luther to sit down as well.
“Hmm, I think I’ll go help Sian with the trays,” Lomax grinned, then left his siblings to their world of tattoo pain.
“Pussies,” Ruth called after them, which had even Ernest laughing.
“Damned straight,” Luther agreed, then paid attention as Charm transferred the design from the paper to a spot over his heart, after Charm shaved him down. “Let’s get this party started,” he grinned, rubbing his hands, lying back, then gritting his teeth as the tattoo pen began to buzz.
“Damned straight,” Ernest seconded, his tattoo going in the same place, smiling at Luther who winked back.
“Pussies,” Ruth repeated, yelping as Rage began to draw the design freehand on her skin, just above her breast. “Warn a girl next time, wolverine,” she cursed Rage, who winked back, then ignored her bitching.
“Pussies,” he muttered, curling his lip, then yelping himself when Ruth batted his ear with the palm of her hand. He rolled his eyes, meeting her baleful look with narrowed eyes.
“Baby, if you don’t want me tattooing ‘fuck my dick’ on your tit, you’d best keep your hands to yourself,” he warned her.
Sniffing she rolled her eyes at him, but made sure to curl her hands beneath her. He grinned, patting her on the head, then carried on tattooing. “There’s a good kitty,” he smirked, daring her to react.
“I’d watch out if I were you, Rage,” Luther said, biting back a laugh. “Our little sis is known to carry a grudge—and her claws are sharp.”
Rage eyed the female serval balefully, who gave him an evil smile. “So’s my tattoo pen,” he retorted, smirking.
“Leave the poor little wolverine alone,” Sian said to her sister as she came upstairs with a tray of snacks, her brother following behind. “He’s not used to having smart, independent females to answer him back,” she continued, full of snark. “It’s really not his fault.”
The insults began in earnest then, bantering back and forth. The teasing didn’t go beyond gentle mockery, and they were all smiling at the encounter, taking their minds off the buzz of the needle—and the sting.
* * * *
Ethan heard the voices upstairs in the tattoo parlor. He was waiting tables, something he’d been doing for nearly a month now. He only did a few hours, building up strength and stamina, but he loved the friendly atmosphere of John’s coffee shop and bakery, and the delicious smells that always emanated whatever the time of day.
“Go take a look,” his brother, Douglas said, nudging him with a bony elbow and a knowing grin. The younger man had a wicked glint in his eyes, too.
“I don’t know…” he said, his voice trailing off, but his eyes lingered on the balcony railing longingly.
“They won’t bite,” John added, winking. His green eyes reflected understanding, which was replaced by all sorts of naughtiness. “Or at least, if they do, you’ll have the best time of your life,” he drawled with a deep, husky chuckle. “Four mates, all for you little cat.” He waggled dark eyebrows teasingly, as Ethan flushed with a mixture of trepidation, yearning—and a healthy dose of pure lust. He really did have four mates, bad boys with a wide streak of sexy running through each one—and an even wider streak of shyness, unbelievably.
“I’ll go see if they need refills,” Ethan stammered, grabbing an order pad, then meandering through the tables on the lower floor and heading for the stairs. He ignored the chuckles of John, Douglas, and Scotty, who were enjoying his confusion.
He’d spent weeks going over and over in his head how he felt about the four wolverines. They had once been his guards, mean bullies who liked to say all sorts of nasty things designed to mess with Ethan’s head. Ethan had taken it upon himself to protect the others imprisoned with him from the four shifters, but it had meant he became their sole target, deflecting every sneer and snide remark. He had not been intimidated by them, his cat even purred whenever he saw them. Years of incarceration, plus that final descent into hell, right under a town that had no clue what was beneath them, had been too much. His mind shut down, and he’d gone deep inside his head, reluctant to deal with the fact that they had no escape, that he would die down in that hole, without ever seeing sunlight again or breathing fresh air. Back then, he’d been convinced the shifters had been taunting him, lying about the fact that they were all prisoners, too. He had imagined it a vicious ploy, that they could get out whenever they wanted, and were just making things worse by lying. Gradually it had dawned that they were being truthful. They had been in the same state as their charges.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he gazed around, seeing all four wolverines hard at work, creating beautiful works of art on the four people sitting or lying in what looked like dentists’ chairs.
“Hey, Ethan,” Alfie greeted cheerfully, sitting drinking coffee with Lomax and his sister, Sian. Ernest, Luther, Jay, and Ruth were all having tats done. Alfie was bare-chested, sporting a large bandage covered with plastic on one pec.
Four tattoo pens went silent, and Ethan saw the four wolverines instantly look in his direction, their eyes intent. He met each gaze, nearly flinching from the same yearning and lust as he felt. He gulped, then spoke to Alfie.
“Er, I just wanted to see if you needed anything else—to eat, or drink. We have pie.” He flushed, groaning quietly, realizing he sounded like an idiot. Those four intense gazes were giving his brain palpitations that interfered with any thought processes he might have.
“Do you have iced tea?” Lash asked, his amber eyes glinting approvingly as his gaze wandered over Ethan slowly.
“Er, yes, iced tea,” Ethan stuttered, staring at his notepad blankly.
Slug got up, sauntering over to Ethan, and plucked the pen from his nerveless fingers. “I’ll take a slice of that pie,” he murmured, his body heat scorching Ethan right on the spot, his dark brown eyes the color of espresso, with tiny glints of gold. He wrote the order on the pad, smiling seductively. Ethan leaned forward slightly, lips parting, and heard Slug inhale sharply. Slug’s eyes went black, his pupils dilating and the scent of arousal heavy on the air. Ethan wished he was brave enough to take what he wanted.
“I’ll have some pie, too,” Lash called, with several repeat orders given for coffee as well as a pot of tea for Jay. Slug wrote them down, too, then handed Ethan his pen back.
“There you go, beautiful,” he said, stroking a finger gently along Ethan�
��s jaw and brushing away a lock of dark hair that fell over Ethan’s eye. “Let us know when you’re ready. I’ll come get you.”
Ethan gave him a startled look, knowing the man was alluding to something more than snacks and coffee. He glanced at the other three shifters, seeing their tense looks. He nodded once, then stepped back hurriedly, nearly tripping, and ran downstairs in a clatter of noise.
“So, pie, iced tea, a pot of tea, and coffee,” John said cheerfully from behind the counter, already plating up slices of apple, blackberry, and cherry pie while Ethan stood there, feeling as though he’d just run a marathon.
Fanning himself with the notepad, he caught sight of something drawn on the pad and his heart lurched to a stop, freezing in his chest. Slug had drawn a picture of his four brethren, their eyes shaped like hearts, their faces split between human and wolverine. The wolverines were displayed in a diamond pattern, with Ethan’s own face staring out, his hazel eyes fierce and blazing with an inner strength that had Ethan staring for several minutes. Ethan had only just recovered from his months of captivity, his time underground with no lights having taken his sight temporarily. He had regained his sight, gradually and painfully, a good diet and plenty of rest helping him to heal.
His emotions were in a different kettle altogether. A kettle that held memories of the horror of his mother’s betrayal, the years of mental abuse, and the shock of realizing the guards who tormented him endlessly were the ones fate had decided were meant for him for eternity. Fate had a sick sense of humor, clearly.
Except now that Ethan had discovered things about his mates, about their childhood surrounded by homophobes and traitorous siblings, he understood something about why they had acted that way. He understood that they thought they had no choice. He remembered that they had changed, after the move to Idaho, after they had returned. They had all been more like protectors than antagonists. Then they had been moved to Sage, to the last tunnel, a living tomb, and he’d stopped caring what happened next.
