“I hear you told everyone they’re coming.” Her voice is bland.
Shrugging, I explain. “When the president of the club gets married, it’s a big deal, Vi. Word gets to Angel we’ve sneaked off as though we want no one to know about it, he’ll be suspicious we’re doing it for all the wrong reasons.”
There’s another factor, too. I want all my brothers there, a show of strength, just in case Angel decides to use violence and take Theo by force. It’s also for that purpose we’ve decided to invite guests from the other chapters.
“He’d be right,” she snaps.
I take a step closer. That fucking cat growls, but it doesn’t stop my rising temper. “We’re doing this for the right reasons, Vi, never fuckin’ forget that. What’s more important than keeping Theo safe and out of the clutches of the Italians?”
Her hand strokes the cat’s fur vigorously. When she looks back up, I swear I see a tear glisten in her eye.
“I know that, D. There’s no other freaking justification why I’d be marrying you. But I always thought I’d be heading toward that altar for love.”
No altar. Just a desk. But still.
“You are,” I tell her. “You’re marrying because you love Theo. Because you want to give him security. That’s what I can offer, babe.” And a home, though I’ll not tell her that part yet. Until the immediate danger is removed, she can’t live off-compound. But I’m already making plans to get us a house.
She’s looking back down at Bitch, her hands moving automatically. “I’ve said yes. You’ve told me your plans. I can see your reasons, and I’ll go along with it. I just didn’t appreciate the extent you’d go to, to make this a mock celebration. I thought we’d sneak down to the courthouse alone. Telling the women to break out their best dresses?” She shakes her head. “I’ve never felt more deceitful in my life, but yeah. Okay. So there was thought behind it. Now you’ve said your piece, I don’t think there’s anything more for us to discuss, D.”
I risk perching my ass at the end of the bed. Green eyes flick my way warily, a low warning growl not to come any closer. When she sees I’m currently not a direct threat, Bitch’s hair around her neck flattens again. Once the cat relaxes, I prepare to tell Vi the rest.
“There’s one more thing. A suggestion proposed, discussed and agreed to. One more level of security.”
Her head dips up-and-down. She’s accepted the inevitable. She’s ready to agree to anything. Anything, except what I’m about to demand.
“We’re going to keep you safe, Violet. I swear that to you. Angel might make a play to get hold of you, may try and prove my claimin’ you isn’t real.”
She flinches as though I’ve hit her. But that’s what we discussed. Though I suspect his desire for the kid will fade over time, we’re still unsure of his motive. If that’s strong enough, he might wait his chance for years. Yeah, my plan is to put him underground, but it’s what happens in the meantime that I’m worried about. So this is just another precaution I’m taking.
“He’ll already know I’m yours by your ring on my finger. I am getting a ring, aren’t I? If not, it might be a good idea to get one. Just something simple.”
She sure is getting a ring. Pyro’s out choosing one now. A good wedding set that’s probably going to set me back a few thousand dollars. But it’s another sign to Angel how serious I am. Nathan, of course, would have wanted her to have the best; I could imagine his disgust if I got her a plain band. Of course, I don’t tell her that, I just settle for, “You certainly are.”
Her head tilts. Her brow creases. What more, Demon? She doesn’t need words to communicate.
Pinching the brow of my nose, I strengthen my voice. I’ll not be making the normal demands on her during our marriage, but this is one time where I’m determined to get my way. The decision’s been made and recorded.
“Rings can be removed, Vi.” Not much of an explanation so far. “You need to wear my property patch too.”
Her facial features relax. “Oh, that’s all. Yeah, I saw Jay’s vest. That’s not much of an ask, D. I suppose as your old lady, it will be expected I’ll have one, too.”
My eyes sharpen, find hers and hold them. “Not a patch on your vest, Vi, though yeah, you’ll certainly get one of those. Nah, a tattoo.”
“A tattoo?” Her voice stretches out the word, starting low then rising an octave on the last ‘o’. There her head shakes rapidly side-to-side. “Not going to happen, D.”
“It is, Vi. I want my mark on you.” I stand and start to pace. “When this club started, it had its own bylaws. When we became Satan’s Devils, we accepted theirs. But kept some of the old club’s too. One of those archaic rules was if a man took an old lady, she was to get a ‘Property of’ tattoo.”
“Angel won’t know that. He won’t know your rules,” she scoffs dismissively.
“They’re not exactly top secret, Vi. Hell says he knows; recalls a discussion once back in the day when he and Lucio were closer. Don’t know the ins and out of it, possibly some discussion about women. But he’s certain they know. If Angel ever takes you, and looks for one, he needs to find it to show how seriously you—we—take our relationship.
“Does Jay have one?”
“She’ll get one when she’s eighteen. She could get one now but needs a parent with her.”
“Jeannie?”
“Jeannie and Sindy have them. Mo has a small one too. Vi. You having the tattoo will cement that we’re permanent.”
Now she stands, the cat in her arms, going to the door and putting Bitch outside. I’d be thankful if I wasn’t wary of her reason. She closes it behind her and locks it. For a second all that can be heard is that darn cat jumping up at the handle from the outside.
“That’s the motherfucking point, isn’t it, D?” Her use of the profanity shocks me. I hadn’t expected it to come from her innocent mouth. “This isn’t forever. This is all make-believe. You’re asking me to have my skin permanently marked. What happens after we divorce? Who’d want me with your fucking name written on my body?”
I stand, march toward her, my body closing on hers, pinning her to the door. My arm thumps the wood above her head. “I think you need to know who you’re dealing with here, Vi. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
Instead of backing down, her eyes flare. “No.”
“No?” I let my echo hang in the air for a few pregnant seconds, before continuing, “I’m giving you my fuckin’ life, Vi. Letting you into my world. Giving it to you. Giving me to you.”
“No,” she repeats.
“Then I remove my protection.” I step abruptly away from her and hold up my palms to face her. “I’m doing the best I can, Vi. If you won’t give anything in return, then we’re finished. Tomorrow you can take Theo and go do the fuck whatever you want. We’re finished.”
When Liz had suggested the tattoo, I’d dismissed it. But the more the boys discussed the idea, the more I found I was getting onboard with the notion. Her skin marked with ‘Property of Demon’? A permanent sign she was mine. No man would ever mess with the property of the Satan’s Devils MC president. If the thought made my cock stand to attention, that had nothing to do with it.
Her protests only serve for me to want it more. Just for her protection, of course.
Her face has paled as she thinks through the ramifications of what I’ve just said. Turning she starts to pace the room, her teeth worrying her lip, her face going through several expressions. So many emotions conveyed by the arrangement of her eyes, brow and mouth, it’s hard to take any reading. I’ve used every word I can think of to persuade her. Fuck knows what I’ll do if all she does is refuse.
I don’t push, don’t add any more argument. I just wait for her answer, hiding my impatience, giving her time to make her decision.
When, finally, she speaks, it’s not a weak capitulation. Her voice is strong, steady. “You’re right, D. You’re giving me everything. Your name, your reputation, your support. What am I giving you
? Everything you never wanted. A child and responsibility. If this means so much to you, I’ll do it. But on two conditions.”
She’ll do it? Despite my threats, of course I wouldn’t have turned her out if she’d refused, but her acceptance fills me with relief. But I’m cautious about her stipulations.
Warily, I demand, “Name them.”
“First, I design it.”
“With Liz’s help,” I tell her, uncertain of her talents. “And the second?”
Her eyes come to mine. Her eyebrow rises. Her voice, defiant.
“You get one too.”
I rear back. She’s taken me by surprise. I hadn’t expected her to request that. I’m no stranger to tattoos. On my back is the Satan’s Devils patch, the grim reaper standing over three devils. Amongst others, high up on my right arm, I’ve dog tags with Nathan’s name and the date that he died, that fateful day and month I lost my friend forever. Again, my forefinger and thumb press above my nasal bones, as I think of the implications. It doesn’t take long to come to the conclusion; I have her brother inked on me. Why shouldn’t I have her, too?
“Okay.”
If my easy capitulation surprises her, it astounds me. A woman’s name on my body will cause questions to arise with any woman I go with in the future. But the only person I’ll owe explanations to will be a woman I intend to stay with for life. Having Vi’s name on my body won’t be a burden, easy to dismiss as that of my first wife. Yeah, that’s how I’ll explain it.
“You will?”
“Looks like we’ll both be seeing Lizard tomorrow. In his professional capacity,” I tell her.
“I want to draw yours, too.” Her voice sounds lighter, almost as if there’s a bubble of excitement. If sketching something out takes her mind off the implications, I’m happy to go along with it.
Fully expecting to throw her design in the bin and go with a suggestion Liz is bound to put forward, letting her think she’s getting her way is the easiest thing to do. “You do that. I’ll consider it.”
“I’ll go get Theo, get him settled, then start.”
I stare. I’ve not seen her this animated about something other than her son since she’s been here. “You’ll need to do a design around ‘Property of Demon’,” I warn her. “And mine isn’t fuckin’ includin’ the words ‘Property of’.”
As a response she snorts a laugh.
I look in on her briefly later that evening. Theo’s asleep, adorable little snuffling noises coming from his crib. She’s seated at the desk where, for so many years, Hellfire used to sit working on club business. She’s biting the end of the pencil she’s using. When I try to see what she’s coming up with, she covers the paper with her body.
Contenting myself with a reassuring touch to her shoulder, I leave her with only an inadequate wish for a good night.
Back in my own room I indulge in a very long shower. Fuck, if thinking of her having my property patch inked on her skin gets me this hard, how will I be able to control myself when I see the real thing?
Chapter Seventeen
Violet
I’ve never considered getting a tattoo. Not that I’ve a particular reason for being against it. The thought of needles doesn’t upset me, it’s just never been the right time or place, and no design I particularly wanted. When Demon first suggested it, I was horrified. Me, having his name permanently inked on my body? A constant reminder that it was all fake?
He’d threatened me, but I know him. He’d never have followed through. Might have rescinded his offer to look after me personally, but he wouldn’t have sent me and Theo away penniless and exposed. Not down to the nothing he feels for me, of course, but his promise to Nathan.
I’d bargained for two things. There were a couple of thoughts driving them. Firstly, I’ve always found intricate tattoos intriguing, and have often fancied trying my hand at that style of drawing. Indeed, during some of my lectures I’d doodled a few designs. Secondly, the women had told me if I wanted Demon, I should go after him with every weapon I could bring to bear. If his only objection is that I’m more like a sister to him, then I need to replace that thought in his mind with the fact I’m all woman. How better to have him reminded time and again that I’m his? That I’ve lusted after him all my life made giving in easier. I can’t think of finding a man who’d match up to him. The substitutes I’d gone with previously had all been failures. There’s never been anyone else, and I can’t imagine there would be anyone in the future, whose name I’d agree to carry forever. If, when this marriage ends, as it will do, I’ll have the tattoo to help me remember that once, even if for only a short while, I was Demon’s.
He’d agreed fast to reciprocating. He’s going to see that tattoo, know he’s wearing my name on his body. Any other woman he goes with will see that as well. He might not think of it in that way, but I’m claiming him just as much as he’s claiming me.
With that idea in mind, I’ve designed the tattoos with matching elements. A bunch of violets, surrounded by barbed wire, to me representing a love that is trapped, unable to break free. On mine in fancy script are the words he wants; on his, my name, with the flowers less prominent. I’d borrowed Jay’s tablet, and had done some searches on the internet while Theo had slept. I’d become intrigued by tattoo designs, the artist in me animated by the unlimited possibilities.
The following morning I wake with no doubts, instead partly excited and partly nervous, knowing I’m going to experience a tattoo, which some people find very painful. Others say it hurts at first, but then as the body releases endorphins, it can become almost hypnotic. I’m hoping the latter is true. Guess I’ll soon be finding out.
Demon comes to collect me. I keep my designs folded up, hoping to discuss them first with Lizard. We’re taking the club’s SUV, which has blacked-out windows. Lizard and Demon sit in the front while I’m in the back seat. The tattoo parlour isn’t far away, and both men remain silent as we drive. There’s almost an air of seriousness, and I don’t feel encouraged to start a conversation.
We go to a parking place around the back, and Demon tells me to wait until Lizard has the door open. Then, with his arm barely touching me, he guides me inside. The furtiveness of the arrangement brings home he’s not a man excitedly putting his name on his future bride. No, he’s clearly reluctant.
Lizard holds out his hands once inside. When I pass over my sketches, he views them with a critical eye, while I look around in disgust.
“This place is really seedy, D. It’s like something out of an old film.”
“It might be a dump, but it’s clean, sterile, Violet. Don’t worry about that.” Lizard looks up for a second at my criticism, his eyes still creased in concentration.
“We’re actually moving premises, Vi.” Demon waves his hand indicating the room. “A bit more upmarket and definitely more modern.”
“What’s this?” I walk over to some equipment. Lots of different size needles sealed in clear plastic.
“Shit for piercing.”
“You do piercing too?” I find I’m fascinated.
“You getting ideas, Vi?” Demon looks amused.
“You got piercings?” I’m intrigued. Very intrigued. But he shudders. “Fuck no. A tattoo needle’s enough for me.”
Smothering my unnecessary disappointment—I was very unlikely to benefit from any he might have in any event—I notice no comment has been made about my proposed tattoos.
“Is there a problem, Lizard?” Up to now, he’s just been staring at them.
“You done this before, Vi?”
“No, but I studied art.”
“She has a degree,” Demon says proudly. “Are they any good, Liz?”
For an answer, Lizard passes them over. I look down at my feet, wondering whether it’s too much, whether my name in really small letters was all Demon thought he’d agreed to. After Demon’s looked at them, his expression unreadable, he catches Liz’s eye.
“They’re not good, Prez,” Lizard starts, and my
spirits begin to fall. “They are fuckin’ fantastic for shit done freehand.” He looks at me sharply. “Ever worked with ink, babe?”
“No, but I was reading up on it last night. I loved drawing those.”
“Hmm.” He looks thoughtful but says nothing else. “Prez, mind making some coffee? I’ll make a stencil of Vi’s design.”
“And Demon’s.” I don’t want mine done and him to avoid getting his.
“He’ll get his tat. Don’t worry.” Liz, seeming unbothered he’s just given his prez an instruction, gets to work. I’m fascinated watching him, taking in every step. He gets out both tracing and carbon paper, then looks at me. “You got any tats, Vi?”
“Nope, virgin skin.”
“Right, so this is what we’re going to do. Well, why don’t you do it, as it’s your design?”
“I thought you’d just copy it?” As he gets up from the seat, I take his place.
“Sometimes I do, if it’s something I’ve drawn; sometimes I do it this way, it makes sure I get exactly what the client wants.” He proceeds to talk me through the process, which sounds a little laborious, but I soon get sucked in. I use tracing paper to make a copy of my drawing, then, using the traced image as a guide taped down over carbon paper, repeat it again. Time ticks by as I steady my hand and concentrate. When I’ve finished, Lizard looks pleased.
Two cups of coffee have been made and drunk by the time I’m done.
Then he asks me to lie face down, raise my shirt and lower my shorts when Demon points out where he wants it to go.
“It’s a tramp stamp,” I object.
“Vi…”
“No. I thought high on my thigh where no one will see it, but there?” It seems seedy to me.
Demon pinches the skin between his eyes and exchanges a glance with Lizard. “I’ll make a bargain. If you place your tat where I want it to go, you can say where mine goes, too.”
“Over your heart,” I respond fast.
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