“Fine. What do you want?”
I went blank. Shit. What did I want? I blurted out the first thing that popped into my brain.
“Angel wings. One wing black, and the other white.”
The big guy pulled out an odd purple marker, and sketched something right there on the counter. I stood riveted, as the wings came to life, breathtaking in their miniature perfection, like he’d seen the wings of an angel before.
I must have let out a sound of appreciation, because while the big, bald tattooist didn’t so much as crack a smile, I could feel his pleasure at creating something that caused my appreciation.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed when he was finished.
“Maybe they should be outlined in gold, the white ones at least. Perhaps blue for the black ones. Just to make them pop.”
I rolled my eyes. He was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. White with gold tips? “Why don’t I just tattoo your name on my ass?”
Gus laughed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
The big tattooist, seriously, he looked like the stereotypical biker/tattooist if there had ever been one, grumbled low under his breath. When he looked at Gus, he felt nothing but disgust. “Do you guys know each other?”
Gus gave me a precocious grin. “Unfortunately, we haven’t.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m Gusion. And you are?”
“Cain.”
The laugh that Gus let out came from somewhere deep in his soul, and it was tinged with bitterness. “Of course it is.”
“Are we doing this or what?” Cain said in a low voice.
I was a bit torn. I didn't understand the tattooists anger toward Gus, when he felt absolutely nothing for me except maybe pity? I had no idea why. People were confusing.
“Sure, lets go,” I said, following Cain behind the curtain. He turned as Gus tried to follow. “You stay there. Too cramped.”
Gus just smiled and saluted. I walked into a little cubicle in the back and sat down on a black pleather chair. Everything was as sterile as a dental office.
“Where do you want it?” Cain’s voice sounded a little like a bass drum. A deep rough burst that you felt in your chest.
I didn’t need to think about it. Stretching my arms, I reached the tab of my zip and slid it down peeling my dress down to my waist and prayed that tattooists were like doctors and seamstresses. They weren’t allowed to laugh at you naked.
Preparing myself for the a pulse of lust, I was shocked when I got an overwhelming wave of rage. My eyes shot to Cain’s face, and he was staring at my ribs, and the green and yellow bruises that patched my torso and made me look a little like I was wearing camo.
“Did he do that?”
I looked at my bruises as if I would see a name written there. “Who?”
“The pretty boy out front.”
If there had been a lightbulb over my head, it would have gone off. I rubbed my jaw. I’d forgotten the bruises there too. Cain thought Gus beat me.
I felt an overwhelming affection for this near perfect stranger.
“Oh, no. Gus didn’t do this. I had an accident.” I didn’t think I could explain I’d been abducted by Estonian human traffickers to a perfect stranger.
“My mother had a lot of accidents too. If you need help…” he trailed off as he prepared the tattoo gun.
I sat up and wrapped my arms around this huge beast of a man who was willing to help a complete stranger in need. He stiffened in my arms, and I remembered I was just in my bra. Whoops.
Sitting back, I beamed at him. “Thank you, Cain. You restored my faith in humanity. But Gus really didn’t do this. I got caught up in something bad, but I’m okay now. I've got lots of people to watch my back, Gus included.” Cain snorted, and I didn’t have to have a tap into his emotions to sense his scepticism.
“Don’t let the pretty package fool you, he’s more dangerous than he looks.” He was dangerous on a level that would probably make Big Cain cry.
He gave a non-committal “mmph”, and set everything on the tray by the chair. “Lay back. The ribs hurt, and there's a little bit of bruising but I think it is old enough that it won’t affect the ink too badly.”
Cain was not kidding. It hurt like a bitch. Not as much as a broken rib or two, but enough that I wondered why anyone would get tattooed more than once. Cain didn’t speak at all, focused on his task, and I enjoyed the white noise of the tattoo gun. I needed the silence of Cain’s simple emotions, and the pain of the tattoo needle, to finally zone out. All too soon, the big tattooist was straightening.
“Finished. Mirror is over there.” He pointed over his shoulder to a door mirror that seemed to be adhered directly to the wall. I didn’t bother trying to cover up. Cain had literally had his head inches from my boob for an hour, and he’d been nothing but purely professional. Somehow, Cain had made the wings almost the perfect counterbalance to the other, while making both unique. How he’d managed it was a mystery to me, but my eyes misted up a bit at the perfection of each wing. Two halves of a whole.
“You are a true artist, Cain. Thanks.” He waved away my words with a grunt, but his emotions glowed again. He dressed it with some kind of ointment and plastic wrap. “No pools or baths for a week. Rub this cream on it every day. Try not to wear anything too tight til it heals.”
I pulled my dress up over my shoulders, and Cain pulled up the zip at the back. “Thanks,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the man that must have been as wide as I was tall, and at least be six and a half feet tall.
I followed him to the front of shop, and Gus was sitting on the hard bench seats, looking through flash books. He stood and smiled when he saw us emerging from behind the curtain.
“How’d it go?” he looked me over. “Where’d you get it?”
I blushed. “I’ll show you later.”
He grinned but there was a heat in his eyes that seemed to be simmering all day. “Sounds promising.”
Cain stepped in front of me. “She says it wasn’t, but if I find out you marked her body like that, I will rip your limbs off and feed them to my dogs,” his deep voice made the threat seem all the more ominous.
“I’d tear my own limbs off before I hurt her, but I promise you, she can take care of herself.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I smiled at the compliment anyway. I paid for my tattoo and happily accepted Cain’s business card. I didn’t think I would be back, because what kind of sucker does that twice? But I liked Cain.
Strolling out of the tattoo parlour, the sun was starting to slip behind the taller buildings. The tattoo stung as I moved, but I liked the grounding sensation. I wrapped my hand through Gusion’s offered arm and smiled.
“Thanks for today. I had fun despite myself.”
He led us around the corner, in a direction that was opposite to the way home. “Oh, the nights just getting started, Sweetheart.”
9
The music thumped through my chest like a defibrillator. I’d never been to a club like this before, and I had to admit, I was pretty awed by their athletic prowess. And their shoes. Damn I loved the shoes.
“Does that one have gold love hearts dangling from the back of her shoes? Look, Gus, they are so pretty. I want a pair.”
Gus sighed heavily. “I think strip clubs might be wasted on you. Also, no more margaritas. Damn, you are a lightweight. I’m going to have a serious word with Ace about your complete lack of corruption.”
I snatched my margarita out of his reach and cradled it to my chest protectively. “I’m a badass motherfucker, you said so yourself.”
“I’m reassessing,” he deadpanned, but then ruined it by smiling. When he smiled, there was an audible sigh around the bar that I could hear even over the thumping music.
There were way more women in here than I’d thought, and every single one was transfixed by Gusion. The topless bartender even gave us free drinks. Probably bringing a new meaning to getting a Slippery Nipple.
“Well, my taste doesn’t reall
y swing this way. Though, that one might have me reassessing my preferences. Did you see that thing she did with her leg?” Some of the dancers defied the laws of physics. People weren’t meant to bend that way.
“Just wait, Sweetheart. Have I led you astray before?”
“Yes. Three times today and I’ve only known you less than a week.”
He raised a finger and tapped my nose. “Fair point. Oh, here we go.”
The music switched to something slow and sexy, and double doors at the end of the stage swung open, and four well oiled guys strode out.
“Who are they?” I whispered, as my drunken brain frantically tried to count all the visible abdominal muscles. Could four guys have more than thirty abs between them, or was I getting double vision?
Gus looked just as interested in the guys as the women. “They’re from the male review next door.”
“There's a man strip club next door and I’ve been in here the entire time, what the hell?” I screeched, earning myself some dirty looks from the people around us. Gus waved me away, and made me watch.
Three more female dancers moved onto the stage, skimpily dressed, err, undressed maybe, in lingerie. The guys were in various pants, some in tailored dress pants and suspenders, some in jeans that hung so low on his hips that I saw black fuzz of hair at the bottom of his V. One guy had gym shorts and the other one was in a thong. He was packing and I was a little worried that if he stepped wrong his balls would fall out the side. The slow thrum of bass filled the room, and the dancers all paired up. Each pair played out a different scenario. Sweet tender lovemaking, dancing in a club. One couple was doing what I could only assume was the aerial gymnastics version of having sex.
But it was the blonde with the bedazzled heels and the guy with the suspenders that had me transfixed. They were barely touching, though the guy had her backed up against the pole. He was prowling around her, his eyes appraising her body like he was imagining all the ways he could make it sing. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand, then the other, pressing them both above her head. His hands were so big he could anchor them around her tiny wrists and against the pole with one hand. She curved her body around the pole, sliding downwards and then up again. He ran a hand down her naked ribcage, whirling around her as his body undulated against hers in an imitation of… well you know. The whole time their bodies were flowing to the music, but I forgot they were dancing, caught up in their story. She shook his hands off, and danced around him, the glee on her face letting the crowd know she knew what was about to come. He grabbed her by the wrist, whirling her into his arms, her ass pressed against the tight zip of his pants. He leaned close enough to kiss her, then spun her around so she was facing the pole, pressing her hard into it, his hand sliding down her spine in a proprietary way. Then he cracked her on the ass, a large handprint taking up her entire butt cheek. I sucked in a breath. Heat pulsed between my thighs.
“Like what you see, Sweetheart?” Gus’s voice in my ear made me shiver, and I turned. I got caught on his eyes and couldn’t look away, not even to look back at stage. Fire burned in them, something wild and dangerous that I just knew in my soul was going to burn me. But I didn’t care. What was this crazy feeling consuming me, threatening to undo everything I thought I knew about myself?
I don’t know how long I sat there, trapped in his gaze, but the spotlights flicked to the crowd. I turned toward the lights, like a deer, and the MC strutted onto the stage. She let out a theatrical sigh as the dancers walked past her, every single one smiling.
“That's my favorite part of the night. So fucking hot, am I right?” Cheers sounded through the audience. “Well, maybe not my favorite part. This is my favorite part. For the chance to win a cool hundred dollars each, we are opening it up to the amateurs. If you think you could get up here and give us something just as hot, now is your time to do it.”
There were whistles, and a few couples standing. A college boy was trying to convince a drunken bride-to-be to try it with him but she laughed and shook her head.
“Hang on now, there’s rules to ruin your fun. No nudity. Seriously, for the health of everyone's eyeballs, keep your clothes on. No filming either, people. Put away your phones or Big John will smash it for you. And yes, you can spend the money at the bar. Okay, let's go people. Up on the stage. A cool two hundred dollars calls you.” She fanned the cash at her face.
Gus was on his feet and pulling me behind him in a second. “Woah, no freakin’ way, Gus!” I yelled over the steady pump of music.
“Trust me,” he yelled over his shoulder, and the crowd just parted for him, like he was some kind of biblical deity.
I climbed the stairs behind him, and the MC appraised us both. “Oh boy, I just know you are going to be good. Honey, are you looking for a job, because, oomp,” she said to Gus, who gave her the panty-dropping smile.
There was Gusion and I, and two other couples. “I don’t think this is a very good idea,” I hissed, but Gus pretended not to hear me. I felt every single emotion up here on stage, like I was standing in the center of an swirling abyss of feelings.
The MC lined us up, and made a spinning motion to the DJ.
“Gus, I don’t know how to dance,” I whisper-shouted.
As the music changed to something slow and sensual, Gus grabbed me and pulled me into his chest. “You don’t have to know how to dance, Hope. You just have to know how to feel.”
I laughed, though the joke would be lost on Gus. I knew feelings better than any person in this room.
“Just let go,” he whispered, his body moving around mine.
“Let go of what?” I mouthed back.
He stopped, his body pressed against my back. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. “Control.” His lips brushed my ear, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.
His hands found my hips, gently swaying me against his body to the music. “Keep the beat,” he whispered again, backing me up against the pole, just like the dancers earlier. I undulated my body to the music, and Gus reached two hands above my head and gripped the pole. And lifted himself horizontal without so much as breaking a sweat. He slowly stepped on the air, and I stopped, staring. Twisting his wrist, he spun back around and dropped down in front of me.
“Uh-uh, no stopping,” his hands were back on my hips as we slowly moved together, our bodies pressed as close as they can be with our clothes on. I met and held his gaze, transfixed by the pure mischievousness in his eyes, mixed with a heavy dose of lust.
“I thought you said you didn’t pole dance?” I whispered.
He grinned and spun, climbing the pole like a monkey, then he wrapped his feet around the pole and flipped upside down.
The crowd was going nuts. Absolutely insane, but I couldn’t look away from him. His face was inches away from me now as he held himself perfectly still. I couldn't help it. I leaned forward and kissed him like he was spiderman. My tongue delved into his mouth, one hand on the pole, and I realized it was me spinning around the pole, not the world tilting on its axis.
He folded himself in half, breaking our kiss as he turned the right way up again, and deepened out kiss. He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck as I gave over control. In that moment I no longer cared what was right or wrong, that we were making a public spectacle of ourselves. I cared about the feel of his body against mine as he pressed my back against the pole, slowly spinning us as he climbed the pole. I cared that beneath the showmanship, he was making love to me for all the world to see.
I pulled back to breathe, and realized we were at the top of the pole.
“Time for the climax, Sweetheart. Hold tight,” he whispered.
I didn’t think he was kidding, so I did what he asked even as I said, “what?”
Then he let go of the pole with his hands, just the pole between his thighs and his impressive core strength stopping us from hitting the ground hard as he laid us out horizontally in the air.
Slipping slowly
to the floor, we laid there, his body between my thighs, hardly breaking a sweat as I panted like I’d run a marathon. But it wasn’t from physical exertion. The want I felt pulsed in my body. And he felt it too.
“Gus.” It was a plea. I wanted him. Needed what he could give me.
“Yes,” he answered.
The wave of rage shocked me, the roar of the crowd suddenly deafening. I knew the taste of that rage. I looked to the side, and I saw Memphis. The look of betrayal made my heart hurt.
“Uh oh,” Gus said, his eyes glued to Memphis.
Yeah. Uh oh.
10
Gus humbly declined our winnings, and we hightailed it off the stage. Memphis’ eyes never left me, and I felt guilty. I just didn’t know why I felt guilty. Memphis and I weren’t a couple. We’d kissed once, that was all.
Repeating that to myself, I stiffened my spine and held my head high. I had done nothing wrong. We stopped in front of him, and I found I couldn't meet his piercing eyes for too long.
With supernatural speed, his fist shot out, hitting Gusion in the face with a sickening crunch. And then he was just gone.
Gus gushed blood into his cupped hand. “I deserved that. Time to go before the humans notice how well I heal.” We walked down a darkened hall, and stepped into an unlocked storage cupboard. I made sure not to touch anything. I can’t imagine any dark space in a co-ed strip club was going to be particularly sanitary.
Gus sifted us back to the apartment, and I realized we’d been walking like average joes all day. I was thankful, because angel porting around was disorientating as all hell.
“Is your nose okay?” I went to the freezer to get out peas or something. I was staring into its icy depths before I remembered that we didn't cook, so we weren't going to have peas. We did have a bag of frozen vodka slushies though. I pulled it out, and Gus just raised his eyebrows at the silver bag. I shrugged.
“It’s fine, but I’ll take some of that in a glass if you’re offering.” I grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard and poured him a healthy dose of the fluro pink frozen cocktail. Gross.
The Fallen- Part One Page 7
