Tattoo Lust: A Tattoo Romance Collection

by Skyla Madi

  Twisting my core, I swing my hand as hard and as best I can from this position. I squeeze my eyes shut a split second before impact, then a burning sensation warms the palm of my hand as it connects so perfectly with her face. Wasting no time, I flick my hips and shove her off me. She crashes to the canvas and I roll away from her before pushing myself to my feet. I watch her as I blow my hair out of my face. Her arms shake as she struggles to lift her own weight. There’s definitely something wrong with her. Maybe she’s sick? Drunk? Hungover? Whatever it is, she’s not in full health.

  “Finish her,” a deep voice yells through the crowd, pulling me from my stupor.

  I turn towards it and see Jai leaning over the edge of the railing. I frown at him. I should at least let her gather her footing. The poor woman can barely stand. He narrows his eyes as I shake my head.

  “If it’s not her it’s you, Kitten. End this. Now!”

  I glance between Jai and the woman. I’ve never been more confused in my life. I’m not selfish at heart, not really, so to hurt someone when they’re clearly not ready for it is something I’m not sure I can do. But, in saying that, this is an extremely unorthodox situation. Is it okay to abandon my morals in a situation that’s do or die? Probably not, but I don’t have a choice. There are a lot of people watching. Every move I make has to be one of intimidation. I’m the weakest link down here. I know it and Jai knows it. How long before everyone else figures it out? Irrational anger builds in my chest at the thought.

  I surge forward the second the woman finally climbs to her feet. Her back is to me, but that’s her fault, not mine. A small growl tears itself from my throat as I clench my jaw and jump at her. I wrap my legs around her hips and my arms around her neck. Once again, we crash to the canvas and the whole things creaks. With weak hands she pries at my arms, but she’s only wasting what little energy she has left. Without thought, I hit her in the face with a closed fist, over and over while holding her squirming body against me. She can’t fight me off and the feeling is...well, it’s empowering. I clench my teeth and strike her harder. She tries to protect her face, but my hands are moving too fast for her to slip any kind of defense under them. I hit her repeatedly until the muscles in my arm start to burn. As I pull my hand up one last time, I see red glisten across my skin and I stop. I’ve hurt her. I’ve made her bleed.

  I release her and push her body away. She rolls onto her stomach, coating the canvas in fresh blood. It’s not a lot—not compared to Jai’s opponent, by any means—but I still forced it from her body. Shielding her face and whimpering, she shakes her head and flashes me the palm of her hand. It’s a gesture of surrender...and it makes me feel like shit.

  My mind unblocks itself and the roar of the crowd explodes in my eardrums. I won. She surrendered and I won.

  I like winning. I’ve always been the competitive type, but this feels different. I’m almost ashamed of myself.

  I turn from the woman and head towards the gate that’s now open. I have to do something to take my mind off this fight. I don’t want congratulations. I want to lie down or throw up or drink until I pass out.

  I saunter from the cage, my hands shaking like never before. They burn hot, as if I’ve toasted them over a warm fire. I don’t know what happened...I don’t know how I could’ve possibly won a fight. The woman, she seemed a little off, but still dangerous. Following Jai’s advice, I’d had to be brutal. I couldn’t give her the chance to hurt me.

  I brush my hair out of my face and peer over my shoulder. The Russian woman, the one who so sweetly offered me her shampoo and body wash not so long ago, lies in a crumpled heap with a bloodied nose and mouth, blinking at the ceiling. My stomach revolts at the sight. I didn’t like hitting her, not one little bit, but it had to be done. Still, the ten thousand dollars doesn’t seem worth it now and I can’t help the nagging thought in the back of my mind that tells me I should find a way out before round two. I can’t go through that again.

  “Ugh,” I grunt as I slam into a hard body.

  The distinct smell of expensive cologne and cigars flood in through my nostrils. I recover quickly and stare at the widespread chest in front of me. Slowly, I suck in a breath as I drag my sights on to his face. His thick, slightly scarred lips pull into a wide smile, stretching the small white lines and it is not, by any means, a comforting grin.

  “Skull wants to see you,” he says.

  My heart stops cold. His voice is baritone and rough. It sends shivers skittering down my spine, and not in a good way. Why would they? I mean, look at him. He has roughly chopped black hair that frames his hardened face. His skin looks thick and coarse enough to rival a rhino’s, and he’s dressed in the most ridiculous attire for a dense, humid place like this. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt, rolled at the elbows, that exposes his Hulk-like arms, as well as a black pair of slacks and some cream snakeskin shoes. On his chest, a small gold cross lies against the fabric. He’s definitely part of a gang. One that likes to blend in with high society. If the outfit isn’t a dead giveaway, the large skull tattooed on the side of his neck is.

  Questions run through my brain, one after the other, but none I want to entertain at the present time.

  “Can I ask what for?”

  He snatches my bicep in his freakishly large hands and squeezes until I wince. Instinctively, I jolt towards him.

  “You can ask, Princess, but I ain’t gonna tell you.”

  He yanks me forward and I desperately peer over my shoulder for Jai. The crowd is moving erratically and I can’t see him. I’m pulled and pushed, pinched and squeezed right up until we reach the service door I saw Jai go through earlier. He was gone for hours only to return with a ‘tattoo of interest’. I doubt I have something Skull is interested in. My fight wasn’t brutal, not compared to Jai’s, anyway, and the woman I’d fought was hardly in the right state of mind. Anyone could see that.

  I hold my breath as he pulls me through the door behind him. The only thought in my brain is a single four-lettered word. It begins with F and ends with K.

  Skull’s man holds me by the bicep and forces me to stand by a yellow service light underneath a concrete set of stairs that curl down to the right of the room. His grip is tight and threatening, so I don’t dare to move.

  The room in front of me is a nice little set-up. To the left, there’s a small table surrounded by seven wooden chairs of varying quality. On the surface, poker chips and cards are scattered around the base of empty beer bottles. Across the medium-sized room sits a used, stripy sofa with cushions that look two decades old, covered in velvet and all kinds of stains. Neither of those are the reason for the jackhammers hammering away at my stomach lining. What worries me the most, is the tattoo chair that sits conspicuously in the middle of the room.

  I swallow hard.

  Shit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Indications

  “Unhand the girl, will you?”

  I hear Skull’s voice before I see him.

  The goon releases me the second I see Skull’s whiter-than-white sneakers step onto the dark, dirty concrete floor in front of me. I pull my stare from his shoes, up his black slacks and onto his white, formal shirt. For the occasion he’s extremely overdressed, but whatever statement he’s trying to make with his immaculate attire and gold cufflinks has been made. Skull has money. He has places he needs to be. He wants me to feel honored by his presence and I have to be if I’m going to get out of here without spilling my secret.

  I eye his tie and the little diamond knife pin he’s centered in the middle of it. He looks elegant, yet dangerous. I assume, for whoever he’s seeing after this, he’s left little hints of just how dangerous he really is—like the skull tattooed over the face he was originally born with isn’t enough to scare you into making deals with him.

  He’s wider close up, and taller. His tattoo makes my skin crawl and I’m having a hard time trying to decide if it’s in a bad creepy way or a good creepy way—if that makes any sense at
all. I watch him closely as he saunters over to the tattoo chair and sits on the stool beside it.

  “Am I in some kind of trouble?” I ask, eyeing the door beside me.

  The man that pulled me into the room blocks it, foiling any getaway I might try to make. Anxiety awakens in my chest and prepares to wreak havoc. It begins by kicking up the tempo of my heart and restricting my lungs from expanding to full capacity.

  “No, no trouble.” Skull taps his long, tattooed fingers against the larger chair. “I just want to chat.”

  I contemplate suggesting we sit at the table, but then I see the gun sticking out of the back of Skull’s pants and remember he isn’t the kind of person open to suggestions. Forcing one shaky leg in front of the other, I walk as confidently as I can over to the tattooing chair, and I inhale and subtly let my breath out before sliding into it. Pursing my lips, I have to remind myself over and over that everyone down here knows who Skull is and what he’s looking for. I need to be like them. I need to treat Skull like I would any employer. I need to pretend his life is something I want to be involved in.

  “I’m honored you’d want an audience with me,” I lie, flattening my sweaty palms against my leggings.

  I don’t look at him when I speak. I can’t bring myself to see his tattoo so close. I feel him watching me for a little while before he decides to respond.

  “Are you scared?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone.

  I finally manage to gather the courage to look at him straight in his face. As my gaze locks onto the dark, tattooed circles around his eyes, I fight the urge to gasp or shriek. Imagine a skull being the last face you saw before dying. You’d be traumatized for the rest of eternity. Brain-dead or not, it’s not something you’d forget. What’s even more terrifying than the skull face is the throat he’s had tattooed on, too. If I ever want to see what the inside of a human throat looks like, I’ll never have to Google it.

  “Of you?” I force a smile I’m sure he can see right through. “Absolutely.”

  Skull chucks his head back and laughs. Fuck me. It’s actually genuine.

  “I like you. You’re not stupid,” he says, letting his smile linger. “Now take off your shirt.”

  I freeze before shooting a quick glance in the direction of the door. The goon pretends not to listen to our conversation, but I bet when I take off my shirt he’ll suddenly be interested in what we have to say.

  “Excuse me?”

  Skull reaches around the back of my chair and pulls a small table in his direction. On the table sits a stainless steel tattoo gun and a few other random bits and pieces. He reaches for the gun and adjusts something with his foot while I splutter, hopelessly.

  “Take off your shirt,” he drawls. “I need your collarbone.”

  “C...can I ask what for?”

  Skull tips his head to the side, his black eyes glistening. “Normally, I’d tell you to shut the fuck up right before I have my friend over there rip your shirt from your body, but you’ve caught me in a good mood.” He leans closer. “I’ll answer your question, Emily, but this is the only time you’re ever allowed to question me when I ask you to do something. Understood?”

  I nod compliantly, too dazed to comprehend what he said after my name fell from his lips.

  “I like to mark those I’m interested in, and so far, you and your boyfriend interest me.”

  “Why—”

  He snaps forward, grabbing my lips between his fingers and squeezing them shut before ‘tsking’ at me like I’m a misbehaving dog.

  “You have such a beautiful mouth. I’d hate to have to tear it from your face.” All signs of friendly humor and amusement fall from his face. “Take off the fucking shirt.”

  He doesn’t have to ask me again. I grip the hem of my tank top and pull it off over my head. When I took my shirt off in front of Jai for the first time, I was embarrassed of my cotton bra, but here, I’m thankful for it. I’ll take any extra layer of clothing, no matter the fabric, if it prevents Skull’s soulless stare from kissing my skin.

  Skull inches closer, the gun poised in his hand like a pen. Goosebumps prickle to the surface of my skin and the jackhammers in my tummy have broken through my stomach lining and are going to work on every other organ in that vicinity.

  “I...I’ve never been tattooed before,” I say.

  He grins wickedly and the gun buzzes to life. “I’m honored to be your first.”

  The needle touches my skin. I inhale and flinch sharply. Skull grips my bicep in his hand, forcing me to stay put when all I want to do is fucking run. It’s cutting into my skin and burning like nothing else.

  “The pain will fade once you get used to it.” He laughs over the buzzing of the machine.

  It’s a lie, of course. The burning doesn’t fade, even after he’s finished. The entire time, I bit my lip and held back tears. I don’t know how he did it. Each pore filled with black ink on his body represents pain. A pain I never want to go through again.

  When he’s finished, he applies a small amount of cream and tells me to put my shirt back on. Going off movies I’ve seen, I know I’m supposed to have my tattoo covered, but he doesn’t offer me anything and I worry about infection. I expect him to leave when he’s finished; instead he kicks the small table away and leans his elbows on his knees.

  “Tell me about Jai Stone,” he says, randomly.

  The mention of Jai and what I know sets me on high alert. I’ve never been tight lipped. I mean, I’ve never had a secret I’ve had to keep, but if he brings out that tattoo gun again, Jai might be in trouble.

  “He has a sister,” I tell him, playing dumb. “A brother too.”

  Skull seems less than impressed and his bored expression worries me. When men like him get bored, shit starts to happen. When shit starts to happen, people die.

  “I don’t need a recap of his family tree. I fucking know it off by heart.”

  Realization flickers over his face and the frustration turns to cunning happiness in barely a second. It’s unsettling to see.

  “Speaking of which, you seem to lack a family tree. I bet that bothers you.”

  I grit my teeth and he smirks when he sees it. He’s fishing.

  “It doesn’t bother me at all,” I say, proud of my confidence. “I haven’t needed one yet.”

  Skull surveys me, his eyes thinning into thoughtful slits.

  “I could give you your family tree,” he states, resting his chin on his hand. “Tell you who Mommy and Daddy are.”

  There it is. The one thing I’ve been thinking about since Jai told me Skull would know. Problem is, what does he want in return for the information? What information do I have anyway? Yes, we’ve had sex, but in retrospect, I barely know Jai.

  “If you want information on Jai, I can’t help you. I’ve only just met him myself.”

  Skull quirks a brow—or at least that’s what it would be if it were noticeable over the ink. “My man Steve tells me you two showed up together.”

  Oh shit. I’ve fucked up the story. He’s going to see right through it. I keep my face calm, but there’s no stopping the heat from seeping into my cheeks. “We met minutes before coming underground. He’s still practically a stranger.”

  Unsatisfied with my response, Skull runs his hands over his bald head and exhales, heavily.

  “Since you have no ties to Jai besides being his fuck buddy, I have a job for you.”

  I scowl at him. “I don’t work for you.”

  Skull zips forward, closing the distance between us. I try to recoil, but get nowhere as he presses his chest against mine and our lips almost graze. My heart is in my throat, beating my esophagus to a pulp. I have to remember to keep my mouth shut. Smile and nod. How fucking hard is that to learn? Skull presses his finger to the tattoo on my collarbone, making me wince and hiss.

  “You’re my Kitten now.”

  I flinch at the mention of Jai’s pet name for me. I didn’t think it could sound any worse than it did already, but hear
ing it fall from Skull’s mouth did it.

  “You’ll do as I say. If Jai does anything out of the ordinary, you tell me. If he so much as eats, showers or sleeps in a strange way you fucking tell me! Got it?”

  I nod, fast. I’ll do just about anything to get out of this room, even if it means agreeing to betray a friend. I close my eyes as he strokes my cheek. His fingers are warm and sweaty and the feeling they leave in their wake isn’t something that sits well on the stomach.

  “Good Kitty.” Dragging a quick finger across my lower lip, he pushes away from me. “I have an important dinner to get to. Congratulations on your fight. Hitting someone while they’re down is a special kind of heartlessness that’ll do well in my business. I look forward to your next one.”

  He grins wickedly before reaching around to his back pocket and dropping a heavy roll of money onto my lap. I don’t take my eyes off him as he clicks at his goon by the door. Without a glance in my direction, they both head up the stairs and I’m alone in the room. I guess I’m supposed to see myself out. I slip off the tattoo chair and onto shaky legs. They still tremble as an aftermath of the fight. So do my hands, but inside me, there’s a different kind of movement. I’m not sure what it is...guilt, maybe. Skull is going to make me betray Jai and I don’t think I can. If I don’t, Skull will most likely kill me—he seems like that kind of guy. If I do, Skull will kill Jai and then me. Either way, this whole thing isn’t going to end well.

  I force my tired body over to the door. With heavy eyelids, I open it and saunter out into the tunnels. Most of the crowd has dispersed, but the few that remain dance and chat and party like this is the best place to be. I wanted excitement too, once. After a day or two, I thought this was the best place to get it. Then I got in too deep and I couldn’t find my footing to get back out.

  Now I know why the unknown is dangerous.

  I scan ahead, searching the spattering of people for Jai. In the midst of all this crazy, he’s the only thing that has made me feel safe.