He’d kill me.
“You okay?” A low, gentle voice eased my panicked breathing.
I lifted my head and Liam’s observant eyes softened around the edges. He didn’t seem much older than me. Earlier, under all that muscle and ink, he’d allowed a little of his boyish arrogance to show, but right now, he was looking at me with something I couldn’t place, so I pushed down my anxiety and said, “I’m fine.”
Liam’s brows furrowed. “There’s bottled water in the breakroom. Last door on the left.”
“Thank you.” His eyes lingered on mine when I didn’t immediately stand. “I’m fine… really.”
He nodded once and went back to work on Kathy’s lower back. She’d refused to remove her shirt, so he’d rolled it up, settling the fabric in the middle of her back. It didn’t take long for him to ink the three waved lines onto her left hip, and suddenly it was my turn.
“It didn’t hurt at all,” Kathy assured me as she twisted her head this way and that trying to admire her new pledge to Pioneer Lake High.
“Then why are your eyes watering?” She opened her mouth to interrupt me but I continued, “And, I’m pretty sure you yelped.”
“I did not yelp.” She shook her head and frowned.
“You did, three times, actually. And jumped… almost fucked it up.” Liam laughed and smoothed his hand over his jaw.
“Whatever. It’s your turn, Kelly. You promised.”
Liam’s eyes flicked to mine when she said my name. “Yeah, Kelly… you promised,” he teased, barely able to hide his smile.
I ignored him. My palms were sweating, and my heart was in my throat. My dad would definitely, without a doubt, flip. He smacked me across the face today for “accidentally” knocking over his Jim Beam.
It’d been too tempting watching the bottle hover over the ledge. He’d been too drunk to notice that he hadn’t placed it completely on the counter. I barely had to tap on the surface of the Formica and it had fallen, smashing into flawlessly shaped shards ruining the floor I’d just mopped that morning. I earned this bruise on my face fair and square, and if I came home with a tattoo, I’d be digging my own grave. Part of me wondered how bad it would hurt to die, or was death like silence, calm and pain free? I checked my watch. It wasn’t past my midnight curfew just yet. Dad wouldn’t even know I was out late anyway. He’d passed out before Mom had even woken up for her graveyard shift at Pete’s, the only local grocery store that had lived through the rise of the warehouse-sized shops that offered flour in bulk and socks at fifty percent off.
“Fine, but I’m not getting the waves,” I said as I turned abruptly and walked to the front desk to sign my fate on the dotted line.
His mother’s eyes were worn around the edges, fine like an old letter that had been folded one too many times. The boy thought his mother was too young to look so tired. But after how his father had acted tonight, the boy understood, even at the young age of seven, that tears age you more than time.
“I’m sorry about Dad,” he said as he lay back into his bed and pulled his frayed blanket to his chin.
“Let’s not worry about it, my brave boy.” His mother gave him a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she reached for the book on his nightstand.
The boy’s father had been drinking again tonight, but this was the first time his father had ever raised his voice. The first time he’d watched the man he’d once looked up to punch the wall instead of his mother. The argument had been about money… or maybe one of his brothers, the boy wasn’t sure, but he’d stepped in front of his mother the second it looked like the wall hadn’t been enough to tame his father’s rage.
“Should I read you this story?” she asked the boy, and he wiped his tears. He nodded as he nuzzled down into his pillow. His eyes closed as his mother’s fingers ran through his messy dark hair.
He should’ve let his mother tend to his little brothers first, but after everything he’d gone through this evening, the boy allowed himself this one selfish need. It wasn’t long before the troubles in his chest lifted as she began to read from one of his favorite books, The Painted Prince.
His eyes grew heavy as the tale whispered from her lips, “There was once known a kingdom that never knew the sun. It was bathed in glittered starlight under its perpetual moon. And one evening, when the sky was purple and the light was silver, the queen gave birth to a dark-haired princess. The realm rejoiced in the birth, but the king did not. The king had prayed to the Goddess of Midnight for a prince. A boy who would grow to be the man who would rule the largest of all the stars, the sun itself. For it had been known, prophesied for thousands of years, ‘a prince would rule and reign in light once he found himself a queen of night. Together they would be blessed by the Goddesses of Summer, Spring, Winter and Fall, and the earth would flourish once and for all.’
When the king had been born, his father had hoped it would have been him to rule the almighty warmth of the sun, but as he grew to a man, the realm remained basked in the cool rays of the moon. So, when he was favored with his own heir, he had gone to temple every night at the resetting of time and prayed that his kingdom could be blessed as once foretold. But, as his wife’s cheeks stained with tears of joy, his heart hardened and turned black. The king locked his daughter away and told the world she had been stillborn. The truth, as ordered by the king himself, was a death sentence. The queen and the nursemaid feared for the life of the princess, so they obeyed and kept their king’s secret.
His daughter stayed hidden inside the castle, in the lowest of the dungeons where she couldn’t see the blessed light of her goddess. Over the years, she grew more beautiful and his wife’s womb… more barren. The king had become weary, and his soul more angry. His hopes for a male heir flickered and burned out just as the stars he governed had done when they had reached their end. And once his daughter reached womanhood, he cursed the Goddess of Midnight, cursed his lands and his realm that they were to never know the love of hope. It was in that moment, the goddess granted him his curse by stopping his wife’s heart, leaving his kingdom without a queen.
Word spread across the land that the queen had passed onto the next plane. That her death belonged to the king’s whispered curse and the people revolted. They stormed the castle, led by a young, painted rebel from the south. He was covered in the marks of his people. The ink needled below his skin a magical armor gifted to him by his father once he’d reached his manhood. The glittered throne of stars fell swiftly beneath the rage and outcry. The rebel Prince of Solistar was young but merciful, and he offered the fallen king a chance to repent. But the King of the Moon dropped his head, spat on the rebel prince’s shoes, and said, “No one knows my secret. My real death lies inside the belly of the castle. If you are so merciful, behead me now and be done with it.”
The prince lifted his sword and said, “I am but one son of many queens born before me, and by the honor of my mother’s blade, Helios, I give you the death you desire.”
The crowd did not rejoice in the blood that pooled and trickled off the dais, instead, they too hung their heads with the rebel prince and prayed to the Goddess of Mercy to grant them the hope the king had taken with him in death.
The prince worried on the king’s last words and something pulled at his heart. He remembered a song his mother had once sung to him as a child. A song about a Queen of Night. His feet pushed him forward as if they had a mind of their own. He stumbled down the steps of the dais, moving on pure instinct to the dungeons, his heart beating faster with every step. He plunged into the darkness with a torch that barely granted a clear path to what… he wasn’t sure. But his soul screamed as his heart hammered, and, when the orange lick of flame revealed her face, everything he’d ever known clicked into place. The world shook on its axis. The prince was too deep inside of the castle to hear the people gasp as the moon began to set in a pink and violet sky.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The young woman’s fingers were pale as she graspe
d the cell bars. Her eyes matched his in darkness, and he knew that once kissed with sunlight they would burst with gold and amber. “I am the Princess of Stars. Hidden behind the eclipse of my king.”
“Your father is dead.” The prince’s heart sank as her eyes filled with tears.
“Then I am free.”
His eyes met hers and he nodded, his heart less burdened knowing she cried for joy, not sadness.
He touched her hand, the moonlight in her cheeks gave way to the color of dawn, and he knew. “Queen of Night,” he whispered as he broke the lock of the cell door with one swipe of his mother’s sword.
The princess didn’t even flinch. She stood in the large cage staring at the man, at her freedom, and her lips began to tremble. Her deep blue dress was made of velvet and it covered her arms down to her delicate wrists. But the slope of her fine neck was bare, and with her snow-colored skin, dark eyes and pink lips, she was more than beautiful standing under the light of the torch. The Prince had no doubt she was who the old mages had advised his family for centuries to find. She would be the one to join the realms and ‘together they would be blessed by the Goddesses of Summer, Spring, Winter and Fall, and the earth would flourish once and for all.’
She took a tentative step toward her savior and his scent of earth and honey filled her veins with an unknown warmth.
“Tell me your name,” she breathed.
And he answered, “I am your king.”
Her heart burst with a knowledge bestowed upon her by the Goddess of Love and, when he leaned down and their lips met, the marks inked into her king’s flesh lit in brilliant colors. Illuminated by the ethereal light of histories converging, the prince and the princess became king and queen, and the realms above them, far beyond the stone of the castle, beyond the lands of the Moon and Solistar, sang because, once again, the earth moved and time had been reborn.”
The boy’s eyes were heavy as his mother’s words filled his head with a future he’d only ever see in dreams.
Once Upon A Time
I wasn’t fucking born yesterday. If the traditional “Lakers” tattoo I just inked onto the back of Strawberry Shortcake’s hip wasn’t enough to tip me off, the fact these girls had enough make-up pancaked onto their damn faces would’ve clued me in. Fake IDs. Nineteen, my ass. I should’ve told Sue she was nuts. I should’ve sent these little girls home the minute Sue asked me if I was open. It shouldn’t have mattered that the tall one, Kelly, was the most stunning thing to ever walk into Avenues Ink. All that virgin flesh in a place like this… it felt wrong. These girls couldn’t be a day over seventeen, but instead of being smart, I let my dick think for me.
The redhead hopped down from the table once Kelly returned from filling out the mandatory consent paperwork and asked, “Do you care if I run and grab something to drink from Handy’s?”
Kelly gave her friend a withering glare. “You’re going to leave me here?”
“I’ll be like ten minutes. Besides, Josh is working the grave shift tonight.” She actually waggled her eyebrows.
I wiped down my work station and exhaled an annoyed breath as Shortcake twirled her hair in her finger. I wanted to tell her that her age was showing, but Kelly glanced at me under those thick lashes, and I swallowed down my nerve.
You’re an idiot.
“Ten minutes?” Kelly asked and raised her perfectly arched eyebrows.
I wished she didn’t have all that shit on her face. I had a feeling she’d be prettier without it.
“I swear.” The girl practically squeaked like a dog toy as she left my station. “Have fun,” she said and waved over her shoulder.
Kelly’s eyes trailed down my body once, and, when those big brown eyes met mine, her brows furrowed. I suppose fun was the last thing she thought of when she looked at a guy like me. A guy covered with ink and piercings and enough pent-up anger to bring down a skyscraper if he finally blew his temper.
She handed me her paperwork, and I gave it a cursory glance. “It’s all there.” Her voice shook, and I wondered if she was terrified or excited.
My stomach tied into knots once I allowed myself to look at her again. She was covered in summer skin and stood on long legs. Her delicate nose was centered between high cheekbones, and those lips… I didn’t want to think what I was thinking about those underage lips. This chick could be a fucking model if she wanted. My eyes fell back to the consent form, where they belonged. I scanned the top portion and read her full name. Kelly Kavanagh. When I lifted my gaze from the paper and appraised her again she almost appeared bored. I shouldn’t even care, but it sucked always being right. Girls like her don’t fuck with guys like me. It’s simple math. She was pure, and I was the scum her daddy warned her about. Kelly and her little friend were slumming it before their senior year started, and I was the lucky bastard who got their attention for the night.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” I asked, not attempting to tamp down my inner asshole.
Her posture faltered as she said, “Of course not.”
Her brows dipped and created a cute as hell dimple just above her nose. It almost made me lose my train of thought. “How old are you?”
She swallowed deeply and I laughed without humor.
“At least tell me you’re a senior… I mean, that’s what all you rich kids do, right? Get those stupid, fucking Laker waves… mark yourselves as privileged?” I shook my head as I watched her cheeks go red all the way to the tips of her ears.
“Privileged?” The venom she infused into the word surprised me. “I’m the furthest thing from it.”
I almost snorted. “You’re joking, right? Last time I checked, every kid who went to Pioneer Lake High was a spoiled brat. Trust funds, new cars, and enough entitlement that they could choke on it for all I care.”
Her hands rolled into fists, and I almost felt guilty for giving her such a hard time. But it was an insult to my intelligence. Like I wouldn’t know what the three waved lines meant, like I hadn’t gotten harassed by those same fucks who went to that damn high school every year since I started working here full-time.
“How old are you? And you better tell me the truth, or you can get the fuck out.” I kept my voice low, below the noise of the shop, but with enough edge her fists clenched tighter and she dropped her proud eyes from mine to the floor.
“I’m seventeen.”
My breath escaped my lips with a long, noisy exhale as I ran my hand through my hair. “And your friend?”
She nodded and I swore under my breath. The paperwork was legal; as far as Avenues was concerned, the IDs were real and the girls were old enough. There wouldn’t be any problem if these girls’ parents showed up. We’d done everything by the book. But, there was some masochistic part of me that was hoping she was at least eighteen, because then maybe…
“Kathy will be eighteen next month, and I’ll be eighteen in November. No big deal.” The corners of her mouth curled into a nervous smile, and I swore again.
“No big deal, just my job, Princess. You know, a paycheck… oh, I forgot, who needs a job when you have daddy’s bank card.”
“You don’t even know me.” She sounded hurt, but there was fire brewing in those brown eyes, and the darkness around her pupils almost burned amber as she took a step toward me, leaving just an arm’s distance between us. I couldn’t fucking believe it, but my heart actually started to pump faster. “My ‘daddy’ doesn’t work, and my mom… she busts her ass at Pete’s to keep food on our table. And me… I earn every goddamn dime of my own paycheck at the Handy Mart off 200 South. Me and Kathy, we were lucky enough to be part of the new busing program the county is trying out. You know, just your local charity cases getting an upper crust education. So, yeah, I go to Pioneer Lake, but that doesn’t mean I’m some trust fund baby, and even if I was…” She took another step closer and my mouth went dry. “You have no right to be such an asshole to me.”
She raised her hand and, for a minute, I thought she might slap me, but she res
ted it on her hip, instead.
The smirk that formed on my lips was involuntary. Her eyes were so wide, and her cheeks… I was sure if I touched them they’d sizzle. She was pissed, sexy as hell, and goddamn it, seventeen.
“I apologize.”
“You don’t look very sorry.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Really.” I motioned for her to have a seat on the work table. “I am. I’m a dick.”
She nodded as she sat and I chuckled.
“I don’t need to get a tattoo.”
“But, you want one?” I asked as I grabbed a new needle and readied my work station. “What are you thinking of getting if not the Laker waves?”
“I have an idea, can I have a piece of paper?”
I grabbed a piece of scrap paper from my work station and handed it to her along with a pen. I needed to focus on the job, focus on the task in front of me instead of the beautiful girl sitting on my leather table. In reality, I wasn’t that much older than her. Nineteen, still technically a teenager. It didn’t matter that my childhood ended when I dropped out of high school at sixteen in order to help support my mother… my family. Nineteen was nineteen and she was seventeen.
I internally slapped myself for even considering it. Kelly may not be the rich, spoiled girl I thought she was, but she was still way out of my league. Minor or not, she was the kind of girl a guy like me could only dream about.
Kingdom (Avenues Ink Series Book 2) Page 2
