Beauty in the Ashes

I laughed, and as I walked by the couch I bent over him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I whispered seductively in his ear, “Maybe. If you behave.”

He licked his lips suggestively. “I thought you liked it when I was bad?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed, retrieving my jacket from the closet and shrugging it on. I slipped on a pair of shoes and looked over at him. “Are you coming?”

He pretended to think. “Um, I might need a shirt.”

“Then get a shirt,” I laughed. “And maybe a coat too, since it’s kind of cold out.”

“I don’t own a coat,” he said, standing and stretching his arms above his head. Staring at his body flex and ripple, I suddenly didn’t want that tattoo as bad anymore. I shook my head, silently telling myself to get it together.

“You don’t own a coat?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll put on something with sleeves.” With a wink, he was gone.

By the time I walked out of my apartment—careful to make sure the door latched and locked since I didn’t want Brutus to escape again—Caelan had emerged from his.

We didn’t say anything, just headed outside. I stopped by my car, but he shook his head. “It isn’t far. We can walk. Besides, the air feels nice.”

“Okay,” I agreed, falling in to step beside him.

After walking a few blocks, he grabbed one of the shops doors and held it open. “After you milady,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

I pretended to curtsy and entered the shop.

I didn’t know quite what to make of this new playful aspect of our relationship. I’d never had someone who I could be that way with.

The woman behind the counter straightened at our arrival. She was about our age, with dyed black hair with vivid red streaks. She had a nose ring, and both arms were adorned with colorful tattoos. “Hi,” her lips spread into a smile, “I’m Alba. What can I help you with? Well,” she laughed, “I assume you’re here for a tattoo. Do you know what you want?”

We both nodded and she tilted her head, studying Caelan. “Do I know you?”

He nodded. “Sort of. I’ve been here before.” He lifted his shirt up and exposed his tattoo.

She squinted, leaning forward to read the tiny script. “I remember now,” she smiled.

As she and Caelan spoke, I looked around the shop. The walls were painted black with silver glitter sparkling in it. The couches were shiny red leather. Mirrors and chrome accents were scattered about. It had a cool vibe, much like the woman herself. Judging from her appearance and store’s color décor, I assumed she was the owner—not a diehard employee.

Eventually we were led back to a room. I volunteered to go first, lest I lose my nerve. Caelan leaned against the wall while I sat in the chair. Alba fluttered about the room, getting everything ready.

“What do you want done?” She asked.

“I want the word ‘freedom’ here,” I pointed to my wrist.

“Easy enough,” she smiled. “Do you mind if I try something with it? If you don’t like it, we’ll scr

ap the sketch. No worries.”

“Yeah, sure,” I shrugged.

“I’ll be right back,” she smiled at each of us.

When she returned a few minutes later, she held up a piece of transfer paper. “What do you think?” She asked, appearing nervous as to what my reaction would be.

“It’s perfect,” I breathed. The word ‘freedom’ was done in a simple font, but the top part of the ‘m’ was floating away, the ends turned up to look like a bird’s wings. “It’s beautiful,” I continued.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

She got everything set up and pulled out the tattoo gun.