by Amy Star
Jane rolled her eyes. “Old normal people who can turn into bears.”
“Well, yes, there is the whole bear thing. But that’s really more of a personality issue. It makes for very possessive lovers,” Carrie said with an eyebrow wiggle.
Jane was spared Carrie’s inquiry as her next tattoo walked through the door. Carrie finished her soda and tossed it in the trash with a look that told Jane she was not off the hook, just because Carrie couldn’t grill her right now. Jane answered the parlor’s phone, as Carrie walked into the studio with her client.
“Hello, this is Midnight Ink, Jane speaking,” Jane answered automatically pulling up the scheduling software and the parlor’s email. One of the two was usually necessary during a phone call. Jane murmured and nodded along, even though the client couldn’t see her. She closed the email and went into the scheduler to remove Vincent’s last appointment for the day. He wasn’t going to be happy, it was a six-hour session that took him to the end of the day. Since the appointment was to start in an hour, it was nearly impossible to fill right away. Jane pulled up a list of potential clients waiting for cancellations on her iPad and went into Vincent’s studio to let him know the situation.
She paused outside the door to Vincent’s office. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her beige lace top above her dark wash jeans. This was the first time Jane was going to see Vincent since they’d left his suite that morning. Vincent had been pulled into meetings all morning and had only just escaped having to go into the clan offices because of his scheduled tattoo. Taking a deep breath and knocking at his door, she waited till his deep voice growled out “Come in,” before opening the door.
The office wasn’t large. Jane had always wondered why such a large man had ended up in such a small space. Vincent’s size made the average square footage look like a broom closet. His eyes flicked up to hers and back down again to the documents printed out in front of him. Holding up one finger he finished reading before beckoning her over.
When Jane approached the desk Vincent motioned her to come around and he sat her in his lap before asking, “What’s up? Is my tattoo here already?” He checked his watch with one arm while the other wrapped around Jane’s waist holding her tight.
Perhaps it was inappropriate for work, but Jane liked the feeling of being tight against him. His warmth relaxed her worried mind. “No, just the opposite actually. I’m coming to say that your tattoo just called in a last minute cancellation.” Jane revealed the bad news and pulled out the iPad to review the options with Vincent. “OK, so here is the list of people waiting for cancellations that want to be moved up in the schedule. It’s a little iffy that anyone will be ready for a tattoo so last minute, but you never know. Do you want me to start with someone in particular? Or just run down the list?”
Vincent took the iPad from Jane and scanned the list, none of the tattoos were as appealing as keeping Jane to himself for a little longer. “Do you have my schedule up as well?” Vincent asked, an idea forming in his mind.
Jane swiped at the screen and opened another app. “Here you go. This is up to date as of five minutes ago. We haven’t had a change in today’s schedule since ten this morning. So I think it’s going to stay pretty set. You’ve got lots of time free for a big tattoo, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Pointing to the list of clients, Jane continued, “This guy wants a pretty intricate forearm tattoo and he’s local, I think he’s your best bet.”
Vincent switched back to his schedule and thought about free time. He never had much. Jane’s job was based on the fact that he was highly in demand. Vincent allowed himself a deep sniff of the scent of his mate and he noticed how it both turned him on as well as relaxed him. It was like the finest drug, and the addiction was strong. Vincent couldn’t give up an opportunity to keep Jane close for a few more hours. He wanted her to be comfortable with him after the big reveal of the werebear secret this morning and besides, Vincent wanted to have a little fun.
Shutting off the iPad, Vincent lifted Jane off his lap and stood up as well. Jane turned around and looked at Vincent expectantly. “So who should I call?”
Vincent looped his arms around Jane’s tiny waist. “You’re not going to call anyone. We’re going to take the rest of the day off.”
Jane put a hand up on her hip. “Seriously Vincent? I mean, you have time, but who is going to cover me?”
“Xavier’s going to cover you. He knows the rules and has the night free. He’s in the studio giving Carrie bullshit while she works. Plus Xavier owes me a favor. Come on, let me show you a night out on the town. I know for a fact that you have yet to explore Las Vegas. You spend every night watching me finish tattoos and then head to your bed. Let me show you what fun the strip can be.”
Vincent’s hands were rubbing across the base of Jane’s spine and the motion was beginning to give her tingles in places that should not be touched in an office the size of a broom closet. Jane had never been one to shirk her duties at work. She’d never used a sick day for “mental health” and if she was scheduled to be at work for a set period of time she was always there, never slipping out early or walking in a few minutes late. But looking up into Vincent’s eyes, Jane wondered if he needed this as much or more than her. It would be nice to just get away for a few hours. Stop thinking about schedules and life changing secrets like, “were-beings were real!” So Jane allowed herself to smile and saw the expression mirrored on Vincent’s face.
“Well, I suppose if it’s OK with my boss…” Jane teased.
Vincent answered by kissing her senseless and setting the iPad down on the desk. Grabbing her hand, he started walking toward the front of the parlor. When they reached the entrance to the studio, Vincent peeked his head in and informed Xavier that he was in charge of the shop and that Vincent and Jane were off for the night. Xavier looked like he might argue for a second, but Vincent’s “You owe me,” was enough to shut him up and have him follow Vincent and Jane out to the front.
“OK, my man, do not contact me for any reason other than death or dismemberment. Don’t try to go through Jane either. We’re going off the grid for the rest of the day.”
Xavier quirked an eyebrow, eyeing Jane and Vincent closely. “Well, that was quick.”
“Huh?” Jane asked.
Vincent glared at Xavier and only said, “Yeah, we’re sorry to inconvenience you last minute.” He’d deliberately misunderstood Xavier’s gentle shove at his seemingly sudden acceptance of his mate. Instead, Vincent placed his hand on the small of Jane’s back and directed her out of Midnight Ink.
As they exited the parlor and entered the general fray of the Mezzanotte’s busy casino, Jane moved to turn back into Midnight Ink. “Oh, Vincent, I don’t have my purse! Hold on just one minute and I’ll grab it.”
Vincent tightened his grip on Jane. “Nope. Jane, today is all on me. Just relax and let me show you a good time.”
Jane gave Vincent side-eye for a moment and decided she’d let him have his way because he looked lighter and freer than she’d ever seen him. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, just by taking her out of Midnight Ink. Jane sometimes saw glimpses of this Vincent when he was tattooing; He looked younger, happier, in those moments. But now, walking away from every obligation, it wasn’t just a momentary glance but a solid change. Vincent’s smile revealed dimples that melted her insides. Jane decided she’d say yes to just about anything to keep this version of Vincent with her.
“First let’s head to the Bellagio, they’ve got the best shops on the strip,” Vincent suggested.
“Actually, first can I slip a coin into the slot machine? I have yet to gamble here in Las Vegas and I think there’s something intrinsically wrong in that.”
Vincent grinned and reached into his pocket to hand her a casino token. “By all means, we need to rectify this immediately.”
The slot machine was a bit of a bust. It ate Jane’s casino token, but it was still the start of a great night. From the dud o
f a slot machine, they moved on to the Bellagio’s famous shopping. Vincent took her into a boutique where the dresses weren’t tagged. Instead, the shop girls set Jane up in a creamy velvet dressing room where Vincent sat outside in an overstuffed wingback chair. They popped a bottle of champagne and brought Jane a steady stream of beautiful clothing.
They’d started with a foundation of light pink lacy underwear that was somewhat embarrassing for her to model in front of the woman who brought them in. But the girl only looked Jane up and down and confirmed that it fit her perfectly. From there, Jane tried on several pairs of jeans and tops ranging from hippy, floaty scraps of fabric to artfully cut out and scooped Lycra shirts that showed off all of her best bits.
Next came a parade of dresses. Pleated maxis that fell to the floor and micro minis made out of bands of stretchy fabric she’d seen people like the real housewives wear. Each outfit came with jewelry and shoes, and Jane adored playing dress up. Vincent, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the event as much as she was. Jane was thankful that this man seemed to find no faults with her body; his eyes roaming her form and taking in his fill every time she stepped out into the private annex attached to her dressing room. Jane was equally as thankful that she didn’t have her wallet on her because there was an especially lovely pencil skirted sheath dress that would be awesome for work. However, Jane was pretty sure even the combination of her entire bank account and life savings may not cover the price of the garment, but with no tag it was hard to tell.
As the bottle of bubbly emptied, the woman brought in one last dress. Vincent had made the request to see her in it. It was a simple silhouette, thin strapped and scoop-necked, with a pencil skirt at the bottom. But the fabric was divine. The shop girl informed her that it was Italian lace, hand painted with real gold paint. The dress fit her like a glove and wore lighter than air despite the thick lacework. Paired with a pair of strappy gold stilettos and large diamond studs Jane looked like one of the pin-ups Vincent drew. She was womanly and beautiful and she’d never felt so good in her life. The shop girl completed the look by pinning up her hair in a loose bun.
When Jane opened the door to Vincent, she thought he might faint. The man had definitely stopped breathing. He had to clear his throat before speaking.
“That dress will do,” Vincent said with a nod to the girl who had been helping her all night. She nodded and moved swiftly off to the register to apparently complete a transaction.
Jane’s eyes widened and she teetered forward on the sky high shoes to stop Vincent. “Oh my God Vincent, you can not buy this for me. Do you know how much this dress costs?! It has real gold on it.” Jane finished by drawing Vincent’s attention to the shimmering bodice of the dress, which only had the effect of making Vincent sure that he’d made the right choice.
“Of course I don’t know how much it costs, there are no tags. I’m sure she’d tell me if I wanted to know, but I don’t care. The thing fits you like it was made for you,” he said taking advantage of her updo to kiss her neck.
Jane hummed her approval and relented. “Well, you couldn’t very well break up soul mates.” Vincent stiffened in response to the comment and Jane wondered what she’d said, but in a flash it was gone and the warm caramel eyes scanned her own before dipping back to her cleavage. Jane laughed. “I don’t think your approval of this dress is based on my attitude alone.”
Vincent smiled like the cat who had got the cream. “I suppose you could say I’ve been less than altruistic. But come,” he said taking Jane’s hand, “I’m not fit to escort you at the moment. My tailor is a few doors down, I’m sure he’ll have something for me in the back.”
As Jane and Vincent walked out of the store, he paused to sign a bill that Jane did not manage to catch a glimpse of and then they headed down to a tailor with the least showy sign in the entire Vegas strip. Jane was a little concerned that they were headed for the wrong place. What store even carried suits to fit a seven-foot tall man? That had to be a special order.
Walking into the shop, Jane smelled the rich scents of good tobacco and leather. From the back came an understated man whose clothing was obviously cut from the finest cloth. His eyes brightened as he saw Vincent and he gave a booming welcome in an Italian accent. At Vincent’s request, he was ushered into the back and, as promised, exited in a sleek black suit. Only a handshake was exchanged, no bill was signed, but both men appeared to be happy with the deal.
From there, Vincent whisked Jane off to a dinner at the top of the Mirage Hotel. They had a private table in front of floor to ceiling windows with a view of all of Las Vegas. Jane didn’t know how Vincent had swung it, but he’d managed to get them the VIP treatment in less than three hours lead time. As she sipped the expensive cocktail and watched Vincent chat about his love of art and tattooing, Jane wondered how important this man was; to both his clan and the general public. She thought he was far more powerful than she’d given him credit for.
After dinner, Jane assumed they’d be headed home, it was almost eleven and Jane didn’t think Vincent was the type to take her into a club. But their taxi stopped at the New York, New York Casino and Vincent exited, offering his hand to help Jane out of the taxi. They walked to box seats at Zumanity. The people in the seats that had the general admissions tickets were looking up at them with cell phones and binoculars. She was pretty sure a woman with a song in the top ten of the pop charts was in the box next to them.
The show was a feast for the eyes. Jane had heard of the performance, it was Cirque de Soleil's adults-only show, sensual and sexual and everything that Jane didn’t need to put her over the edge. By intermission, Jane was crossing and uncrossing her legs in a vain attempt to satisfy or stop the need that was forming there. She could feel the warmth of Vincent in the seat next to her, his large thigh pressing into the short hem of her dress. Vincent sat coolly watching the show with rapt attention. At the end of the night, when Vincent ushered them back to his suite at Mezzanotte, Jane wondered if perhaps the show had had the opposite effect on him and she felt as though the night was going to end anticlimactically after all of the romantic build-up. Chapter 8
Jane and Vincent rode the main elevator in silence. Since Zumanity, Vincent had been mysteriously quiet. He didn’t seem angry exactly...it was more like he was shut off emotionally. Vincent had managed to get her out of the theater, into a taxi, and on an elevator without once having to physically touch her. It felt odd after so many hours of intimacy. Heck, they’d even made out during the taxi ride to Zumanity. What in the world had happened to Vincent during the show to shut him down?
As they walked toward their suites Jane started to get angry. It was Vincent who had planned the entire evening. If the show or her dress or his dinner didn’t meet his expectations, well then, it was no fault but his own. Jane felt herself getting riled up and at their doors she turned toward Vincent to tell him exactly what she thought of his mood at the moment and instead she found herself pressed up against Vincent’s door.
Jane’s breasts, already boosted to towering heights, were pushed to the very edges of decency as Vincent’s chest added pressure to the corset system. Briefly, Jane was worried about breathing until Vincent took her mouth with his. The kiss was urgent and possessive. He was animalistic, bringing one hand up to her jawline and increasing pressure till she opened her mouth for him. Then his tongue invaded. There was no other word. The warm heat of it swept her mouth, claiming the intimate territory for its own. Jane felt Vincent tease her mouth, demand that she give as good as she was getting. The sigh that left Jane’s mouth was one of pure feminine pleasure. All ideas of Vincent being cold or turned-off flew out of Jane’s head. She still wasn’t sure what was up with the attitude he’d been displaying for the last hour, but she was sure that she didn’t give a hoot. All she cared about was getting closer.
Vincent stepped forward with one leg and grunted as he kicked the door at Jane’s back. Jane thought that he would take the opportunity to pause and open the door
, spilling them into the suite and its massive couch or bed. Heck, Jane would deal with carpet burn at this point. But Vincent didn’t make a move to open the lock. Instead, he drifted his kisses across her cheek and to the sensitive points on her neck. Vincent trailed long sucking kisses down the vein of her neck, paying special attention to its hollows. Jane felt the shivers of pleasure move down her body and amass in her very core, starting to turn her wet and needy. Vincent licked her collarbone and nipped at its end in her shoulder. Jane heaved her bosom up, hoping that Vincent would continue his descent, but instead, Vincent began working his way back up her neck, this time ending by taking her earlobe between his teeth and biting down softly before licking his way around the edge of her ear. Jane shivered again as he blew warm air on her wet skin.
There was a soft thud against the door again as Vincent’s knee moved in between Jane’s legs. The fine fabric of his suit pants rubbed with delicious texture against the sensitive skin of Jane’s inner thighs. Thanks to their height difference Vincent’s knee was at Jane’s inner thighs. She was about to press against the limb when it slowly rose upward, Vincent balanced on his tiptoe as the shelf of his knee came into contact with the apex of Jane’s thighs. With gentle pressure, Vincent shifted up until Jane had to place her entire weight on his leg to keep her balance. Jane gasped at the glorious pressure, the sensation fed the itch for more pleasure instead of sating it, and instinctively she moved against his thigh to feed the need.
