Hell's Ink

by Nicole Reed

  “So… what’ve you been up to?” she asked, glancing away because she was too scared to see the expression in his eyes. He had to know how she felt about Hold and that he hadn’t seen her in weeks—no text, nothing. Hell, Mikey had been the one to warn Shyla not to get involved with Hold.

  “Work. Same ol’ shit, different day.” He spoke over the constant buzz of the tattoo machines around the shop. “Do you love him?”

  At Mikey’s words, Shyla’s eyes curiously lifted to his. It was plain to see that he wasn’t thrilled to be having this conversation: his gaze shifted to the floor and back up again with a face flaming red.

  “What?” Her one-word question came out in a harsh whisper.

  “You heard me,” he said, his stare daring her to lie to him.

  She knew the consequences wouldn’t be pretty yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer him truthfully. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Mikey said, turning his head to notice several people, including her Aunt Diamond, seeming too interested in her answer. “Let’s take a walk.” He stood and exited the shop.

  For several empty seconds she stood undecided. It’d be so much easier to stand still and not follow him, to let this moment play out without adding any more heartache. But her will was shit when it came to anything regarding Hold. Her feet were already moving before her head caught up with her response.

  She opened the front door and saw Mikey waiting by a dimly lit streetlamp. Stars twinkled overhead and the night air kissed her already sensitized skin. A single flame from a match caught the end of his cigarette on fire. He blew out several smoke rings, each one bigger than the first.

  “He’s drivin’ everyone around him fuckin’ nuts,” Mikey said, taking another long drag. “I know he’s thinkin’ ‘bout you, he knows he’s thinkin’ ‘bout you, but nobody says it out loud. I think he’s too goddamn chicken shit.”

  “Afraid of you?” she asked incredulously, knowing for a fact that Hold wasn’t afraid of Mikey. Loved him like a brother… yes. Afraid? Hell no!

  Mikey laughed. “No. You scare the peckerhead shitless.”

  His words stole her next breath and put a vise on her heart. Her hand instantly went to rest against the still beating appendage in her chest, even though his absence had caused entirely too much damage.

  “Hold doesn’t know what to do ‘bout you. He’s scared where you’ll fall when shit goes down. He’s worried ‘bout retaliation against you because of him,” he said, dropping his cigarette. The burning red ember floated to the cement in silent fury, and he crushed it out under his boot.

  “He said that?”

  “He didn’t have to. I’ve known the fucker my entire life. And even though we aren’t currently on the best of terms, I can’t deal with his emo mopin’ shit anymore.”

  “Well, it doesn’t appear that I get a say in how Hold acts.” Anger warred with the truth of how Shyla felt inside. “Or what he’s feeling. And to be honest, I’d rather be used as a pawn than to have my heart ignored.”

  “You say that now,” Mikey said, openly scoffing at her words.

  His comment pissed her off. Mikey didn’t get to hurt her, or judge her future actions. Who did he think he was? “Don’t act like you know me,” she said, stepping next to him. Her index finger found its way directly in front of his surprised face. “Because you don’t. If Hold wants to know how I feel about him, he knows where to find me. You did.”

  Shyla let the anger coursing through her veins give her the courage she needed to turn away from him. Nothing about this was easy… but love never was.

  “He’s stubborn. You need to go to him. Something big is goin’ down this week. Nobody knows what the future holds,” Mikey said, stoically. His foot tapped on the pavement behind her, making her pause.

  “Why are you even here? Last I heard you were pissed at the thought of Hold and me,” Shyla asked, turning with her hands in the air to give him a look of exasperation.

  “God knows it’s not easy to see you here and know you’ll never be mine. Things would’ve been good with you and me,” he said, strolling over to lay his big calloused hand against her cheek. “But that’s all done and in the past. He needs you more than I ever could.” Mikey slowly leaned down to kiss her affectionately on the lips.

  There was nothing sexual in the tender moment they shared—it went beyond those boundaries and was given with nothing expected in return, a show of affection among family members.

  He didn’t wait for a reply. Through a deluge of tears she watched him return to his truck and leave. Shyla did nothing but think about what Mikey said. By staying away from Hold, she was doing what she thought was expected of an old lady. She’d let him unknowingly do to her what she’d sworn after her ex she’d never do again—sit around and wait on a man.

  Every second had been harder than the last to endure, not knowing where he was and what was happening a painful reminder of her life before coming to Harmony. Shyla thought she could change for him, to be who he needed, but she found she couldn’t. All she could be was herself and that had to be enough for him.

  Shyla’s hand dug into the pocket of her short denim skirt. She whipped out her car keys and rushed to where she was parked. If she didn’t take some sort of control now, she’d lose herself and Hold.

  Shyla’s still silhouette in his rearview mirror mesmerized Mikey. Her sexy short hair blew around her face in the night wind, and the little tank top paired with a short skirt looked too damn good on her. It was painful to drive away. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg her to be his, but he’d told the truth: Hold needed her more than he ever could.

  It was the right thing to do, even though the bastard wouldn’t dare speak her name to him. Hold had done enough apologizing in Mikey’s opinion and it’d begun to get on his last nerve. There was more pussy in the world, even though for a quick minute he wanted that one.

  He reached for his cellphone and dialed the lucky bastard’s number.

  “Yo,” Hold answered on the second ring.

  “You at home?” he asked, glancing down at his phone when he received an incoming text at the same time.

  “Yeah, just got out of the shower. Why?” Hold asked.

  “Stay there and thank me later. She ain’t sheep, Hold, and if you treat her like one, you’ll lose her. Not to mention I’ll beat your ass and take her from you,” Mikey said, meaning every word.

  He tried to read the new message on his phone as he talked to Hold. It was from Ward.

  “What the hell did you do?” Hold’s disgruntled voice made him chuckle.

  “What any brother would.”

  “Does this mean we’re good?” Hold asked.

  “Treat her right, man,” he said, disconnecting the call.

  The text read for Mikey to come to the clubhouse. Ward needed him.

  Hold stared at his cellphone. What did that crazy fucker do? He knew instantly it was something to do with Shyla. Every day dragged by agonizingly slowly since he’d last seen her. His time had been spent working at the garage, smoothing shit out with Ward, and coming to grips with his future. The decisions he made now were going to change him and his life forever. Could he put her in the middle of it all?

  Nothing could’ve prepared Hold for the feelings he’d developed for Shyla, which in the long run made it easier for him to stay away. He knew he was flawed, broken beyond repair. She’d accepted him and his life without question. It was amazing, but also scary as shit. When he was with her, the storms in his life passed with minimal damage.

  He stood at his back door with only a pair of ragged jeans pulled on hastily after his shower. His shoulder rested against the frame, while he watched palm tree leaves flutter in the night breeze. Hold took a swallow of the cold beer he held in his hand. Over the last week, every time his phone had rung or a new text came through, his heart raced, hoping it was Shyla. Even though he’d told Ba
dger to keep her away for now, it didn’t stop him from wanting her to contact him. What a fucking mess.

  For the first time in forever he wanted to be with someone. Not just for a night, but also every single day that followed. Several times he’d rode by Hard Ink to watch her through the store window living her life, and he knew she was safer away from him for the present time. He’d watched the soft strands of her wheat blonde hair fall across her face as she worked. She’d anxiously push them back with her hand. Hold wanted to be the one to do that for her, to be part of her life, to let the light that shone through her light his life. Whatever it was between them seemed to grow stronger with space, when it should’ve done the opposite.

  A knock at his front door interrupted his thoughts and he strode across the house to open it. With one look, Hold knew something wasn’t right. She was as beautiful as always, but something told him she was hurting.

  “Hey,” Shyla said, swiping the hair away from her eye.

  “Hey,” he answered, stepping back so she could enter.

  “I didn’t know where you’d be so I tried here first,” she said, walking past him into his newly decorated living room. “New furniture?”

  “Yeah. Sage thought the busted shit needed updating,” he said laughingly, following her. “You want a beer?”

  “No thanks.” Shyla paced across his floor with her hands in the pockets of her skirt. Then she suddenly stopped and turned toward him. “Listen,” she said…

  “Listen,” he said…

  They both laughed nervously while speaking simultaneously. He couldn’t help staring into her gorgeous eyes. It wasn’t the color, but the sweetness that called to him. It threatened to undo the promises he tried to make to himself to keep her safe.

  “Ladies first,” he said, feeling the corners of his mouth slant upward because she was near. Other parts of his body reacted accordingly.

  She removed her hands from her pockets, and began wringing them. Hold could feel the tense energy bouncing off of her, their intense sexual chemistry burning the air between them. It was fucking insane. If she didn’t hurry up and talk he was going to kiss her any second.

  “I tried, okay? I really did, but I don’t think this is going to work,” Shyla said, shaking her head with her lips tilting downward.

  Hold’s stomach dipped to the bottom of his gut. His feelings for her didn’t dissipate at her words, but magnified to the point where he thought he might lose his shit. He set the beer bottle down before walking toward her.

  “What did you try exactly?” he asked, stopping so their bodies aligned perfectly together, only a sliver of space separating them.

  “This,” she said, pointing between them. Her finger grazed his bare chest. “Us.”

  He barely contained the full-body shiver at her accidental touch. “I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. How can you say we tried anything?” Hold asked, gently placing his hands on her bare shoulders. His pinkie finger slipped underneath the strap up of her tank top to caress her silky skin.

  “That’s just it. Badger gave me your message. I was trying to do what a good old lady would do, by not calling and checking in,” she answered on a choking sound. Tears misted across her eyes.

  “I never said you couldn’t contact me.” Hold began to massage the sweet flesh underneath his palms.

  “Yes, you did,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “No, I didn’t. I told him to tell you I needed to settle some club business and I would contact you in a couple of days,” he said, hardly recalling exactly what he’d said to Badger. That day had been a serious mindfuck. It’d taken some time to get his shit together after all of the revelations, including Hold’s rapidly growing feelings for Shyla.

  “Days, Hold. Not weeks.” She tossed her hands in the air. “And how would me blowing up your phone, sick with worry, have helped anything with us? I respected that you were handling business and laid low. One single text to let me know you were okay would’ve done the job. Do you not know how I feel about you?” Shyla asked, her questioning gaze directed at him.

  He sincerely thought about what she was saying and slowly nodded. Hold knew he was a selfish bastard—it’s one of the reasons he lost Hels. That selfish part of him kept Shyla close, while the more honorable other tried to save her by distancing himself.

  Hold gave a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry. You’ve had to be apologetic for who you are for your entire life. I don’t want to be her and make you feel that way. Ever.”

  “Then what do you want?” he asked with a shake of his head and outward motion of his hands. “I never asked you to sit at home and be some Stepford old lady.”

  “Something inside of me says that I can sacrifice who I am to be who you need. But what does that make me, Hold? A lie? Someone I don’t recognize in the mirror,” she said, bowing her head as a single tear slid down her face.

  He brought his finger to rest beneath her quivering chin. Hold knew she was trying her best not to fall apart in front of him. He could feel the poised restraint beneath her skin. Slowly, he lifted her face so that both of theirs rested only inches apart.

  Shyla could feel his warm breath against her greedy lips. She’d come here to tell him that she’d tried to be who he needed, but in the process was losing herself. Love could destroy or heal a person. She loved him enough that she never wanted to hurt him, but she had to love herself just as much or a relationship between them would never work.

  “I only want you to be you,” he whispered, letting his lips feather over hers. “This life will require you to bend, but you have to be strong enough not to break. That’s all I need from you. I fell for the feisty girl who wasn’t afraid of the patch. Always be her.”

  Her lips responded to his, softening underneath his touch, and his words provided a soothing balm to her heart. Hold’s thumb glided over her parted lips that gathered together to gently kiss him. He removed his hand, replacing it with his tongue, every erotic, wet caress making Shyla forget for now any reason why they shouldn’t be together.

  “Can you do that?” he asked, trailing small kisses across her cheek.

  She nodded, completely at a loss for words. Especially when his hands slid seductively down her bare arms until he intertwined their fingers. He held her to him as he passionately made love to her mouth. Her nipples hardened underneath her shirt, aching to be pressed tightly against him.

  Shyla’s body reacted violently and swiftly to Hold. His lips traveled hungrily down her throat, teeth seductively nipping flesh, and her eyes closed shut. The sensual moan she released filled the silence. His body trembled, letting Shyla know that he was just as affected by their encounter, and she ached to touch him.

  Her hands, locked with his, struggled for release, but he kept them both imprisoned. She opened her eyes to see him staring intently at her, his gaze burning with extreme desire. Shyla knew he wanted the control over her, needed it, and maybe even craved it. This was who he was—he didn’t try to be someone he wasn’t. Take him or leave him.

  “Let me touch you,” she begged, before kissing him. This time it was her mouth that guided them, her tongue that set the tempo, her teeth that worried his pouty bottom lip. “Let me love you.”

  Hold froze at her words. He pulled back from her and in the process released her hands. Shyla let out a yelp as his fingers swooped behind her knees, picking her up to cradle her body to his chest. She locked her arms behind his head, searching his eyes for any reaction to her declaration. He precariously stumbled toward his furniture.

  “Hey! I don’t weigh that much,” she said, playfully slapping his arm while carefully crafting a witty defense against his failure to acknowledge her bold statement.

  “Don’t joke. Not now,” he leaned to whisper directly into her ear, the soft air tickling the fine hair of her neck. “Shyla, I…”

  Hold didn’t finish his sentence. He buried his face against her skin and she felt
him deeply inhale. Carefully, he sat her down on the loveseat before falling to the floor and insinuating himself between her thighs. With Shyla sitting, and Hold on his knees, they were at eye level. His mouth returned to kissing hers.

  She ran her hands up and over his sculpted chest, delighting in the feel of him. The strong yet soft texture of his skin covering his hard muscles sent a sharp shiver of attraction down her spine. Her hand continued to caress upward until she could wrap her fingers behind his heated neck, pulling him to her.

  Hold’s hands stayed busy too, lifting up her top, stripping her of it. She felt her bare breasts bounce and noticed his eyes narrow. Shyla cried out at the sudden feel of his tongue swirling around her beaded nipple. Her body reared against him, the heated moisture soaking her panties. He continued to lavish attention on each one.

  The pressure of his fingers clenching her thighs intoxicated her. He gave a low groan as his hands moved to bunch her skirt up and around her tiny waist. Hold didn’t waste any time, ripping her silk underwear from her pliable body, the tearing sound an aphrodisiac to her ears.

  It was sensory overload. “Hold,” she begged, needing more, but not knowing how much her racing heart could handle. Her head fell backward as his tongue descended lower, biting and nibbling as he went. Hold took his sweet time enjoying the journey down her aching body.

  He slid his strong hands back to her thighs to keep them spread wide apart. Shyla’s breathing stilled, waiting for him to reach his ultimate destination. She cried out loudly as he bestowed a simple kiss on her mound, her body clenching with need. His eyes travelled up to hers, silently demanding she watch what was to come. His tongue licked her wet entrance, every swipe consuming her, and every gentle suck on her clit causing Shyla to hoarsely call out his name.

  With every spasm of her pussy, she ground harder against his mouth. She watched his shaved dark head sensually glide between her legs. Beads of perspiration highlighted his naturally tan skin. Shyla knew she was completely lost to Hold even before he thrust his fingers deep inside of her to join his tongue.