Dark Ink Tattoo: Episode 1 Read online

  “Oh God –“ the brunette wailed as her body betrayed her. She reached out for support and found Karma’s head and brought her in, so that we were both bucking into the other girl’s mouth.

  “Yes, yes – don’t stop – yes –“ I felt her ass clench around my cock and just in time – I shouted out, a conquering sound, as I released deep into her, making her take me, feeling her whole body flail against mine as she started screaming. This was it, the moment when her life was going to pulse out of her -- I grabbed her close and I took it into me, felt it warm me deep inside, taking the edge off of a hunger that was never sated, and growled again with one last thrust.

  I held her close until she was through – until I was through – until Karma’s head dropped, and she started to lick at my balls.

  “Oh girl,” I purred, releasing the brunette slowly. “You’re going to make someone very happy someday. You both are.”

  The brunette dizzily dismounted, turning to lean against the chair as Karma stood. “That was wild.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I sat up, twisting towards them, watching them find and straighten their clothes as I sat naked as a jay-bird, with the exception of my tattoos. Now and again, one of them would look shyly at me, as if to convince themselves that that had happened, that I did exist. All I could do was smile back.

  When they were almost pulled together, I stood, and made a show of stretching before expertly tossing my condom in the trash. Two semi-innocent southern girls and add in a little Vegas, and look what I had done.

  “Was that a good enough story for you?” I asked.

  Karma looked dismayed, and for a half-a-hot second I doubted my skills. “But we won’t be able to tell anyone.”

  I laughed. “Those stories are the best stories.” I swooped down to grab my jeans as the brunette leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

  “Jennifer!” Karma said, scandalized, then grinned, and took her hand. So the brunette’s name was Jennifer. I slid my jeans on as they gossiped. Who knew what the rest of the night would hold for them, if they played their cards right. And hey, now they could always play with each other.

  “We’ve, uh, gotta go –“Jennifer said, tugging Karma towards the door.

  “Yeah, I figured,” I said, buttoning my jeans.

  They turned and dashed out with victorious laughter, already telling each other the story of the story in their minds – how brave they’d been to go get tattoos – and everything that’d happened after. What I’d done to them, what they’d done to each other, and the sanitized version of events that they’d tell their friends while secretly giggling.

  The door rang again as I was putting my shirt on. Jennifer stood outside, hailing a ride with her phone, but Karma’d bounced back on through. She raced up to the counter and slammed a wad of cash down.

  “Since you didn’t get to tattoo me,” she said with a grin – and then disappeared back outside.

  I could’ve chased after her – there was time before their ride got here – but with the people I owed money too, I couldn’t afford too much pride.

  Besides, no one could say I hadn’t done my part for Las Vegas tourism for the evening. It was every local’s duty – even the undead ones. I fastened my belt buckle with a smirk, and pocketed the cash.

  Chapter 5

  “We’re going to the Fleur de Lis?” I whispered as Mark drove us up to valet. It was Vegas’s newest hotel, the swankiest one yet, built just a year ago. He’d told me to dress up tonight, but what I had on wasn’t going to cut it –

  “The one and only.” Mark hopped out of the car and tossed the valet his keys, then held my door open.

  “What about –“ I said looking back, expecting him to do the usual and tell the valet his name and phone number – to at least get the chance to ignore the ‘we are not responsible for your belongings!’ on the back of the card.

  “No time, come on,” Mark said, tucking his arm under mine, propelling me forward.

  When you live in Vegas your whole life, you get jaded, quickly – you get the kind of eyes that see the dust in corners and cobwebs too high to reach. You knew there was a man behind the curtain – hell if you worked for the casino, you were the man behind the curtain – and it helped you blink the diamond dust right out of your eyes.

  But all that said – the Fleur de Lis was legit. Seemed legit. I was…going to have to do some rigorous exploration, once I figured out where the hell Mark was taking me. Please let it be a bar, please let it be a bar – I didn’t think I could break up with him if there was a whole restaurant with fancy waiters watching.

  “Have you been here before?” Mark asked, after watching my neck turn again. Who knew there could be so many chandeliers and that they could all sparkle so brilliantly?

  “No. It’s beautiful.” Everything was rococo – or St. Petersberg, circa Catherine. It would feel overwhelming if the space wasn’t so huge – instead all the ornamentation invited you to look up. It was the kind of art that would make a small person feel smaller – but a grand person, more grand. And sure enough, I felt tiny under the weight of so many frescos and angels and sculptures gazing out, whereas it finally seemed like Mark was at home, the lion in his ornate den.

  He caught my chin and brought it back toward him. “Not as beautiful as you,” he said, kissed me gently, then pulled me gently toward the casino floor.

  I trotted alongside him, two of my steps for each of his normal ones, catching gambler’s glances as we passed by. Some stared at Mark, some stared at me, and others were too entranced by the dealers, women wearing low cleavaged Marie Antoinette-style ball gowns, situated behind each table – or looking for the cocktail waitresses, who were also wearing ball-gowns, but much narrower, with ruffled cut outs in the front, all the better to show off shapely legs, ending in appropriately ornate heels.

  Mark chuckled as I slowed him down again. “I’ll give you the grand tour later – it’s just that I’m late –“

  “For what?”

  “There you are! Marky!” Another huge man loomed out as we went up three stairs to a cordoned off zone.

  I could not imagine my Mark as a Marky. Not now, not ever. But the newcomer clapped his arm across Mark’s back with a solid thud and then looked at me. “And who is she?”

  “Dante, this is Angela. Angela, Dante.”

  Dante was every bit as big as Mark I realized, as he stepped back to give me a once over – not even trying to hide that he was, as he spun around me.

  “It’s the eyes or the hands,” he explained. “I figured I’d use the eyes, since Mark was here and all.” Then he looked to Mark. “Nicely done, brother. Not that you ever pull badly.”

  Mark cleared his throat loudly and Dante made a somewhat apologetic face, then caught my arm. “I’m afraid we’re running behind – so if it’s OK with you, Angela, I’d like to seat you back with all the other good luck charms tonight.”

  I looked to Mark and he nodded. “Sure,” I answered, completely unsure what the hell was happening, but letting Dante take me away.

  * * *

  We went down what I was fairly sure was a service corridor, although the paint and brocade didn’t end – perhaps the better to remind employees just who they were dealing with and how they ought to act at all times – until we reached a quiet room with about fifty seats in the form of assorted velvet lounging couches and a large viewing screen. Dante let my arm go with a flourish and then left, abandoning me with fifteen strangers.

  Looking around – I felt like I’d walked into the pages of a fashion magazine. There were women here wearing shoes that cost more than my rent. If I started to calculate how much their jewelry was worth – I stopped, because it’d explode my mind.

  I tottered over to the nearest empty couch, feeling awkward like a newborn foal, and sat down. A woman came up to me. “Cocktail?”

  “Yes please. Vodka tonic.”

  She circulated quickly and returned. I took the drink and fumbled in my clutch to pay
her, but she shook her head. “Oh no,” she said, with a French accent. “Your money’s no good here.”

  Just as I was about to ask why that was, the screen turned on. The Fleur de Lis’s logo appeared – a camera shot focusing in on one diamond until it exploded under the pressure into the tri-fold namesake of the hotel -- and then it cut to a room with seven men and three women, all holding cards. Mark was among their number, sitting behind a high stack of chips.

  “What the –“

  A beautiful woman sat down beside me. She had light brown skin and her dress was a shimmering gold with cap-sleeves. It sank between her breasts almost as high as it cut up her thigh, and her hair was a forest of ebony pincurls. She was outrageously beautiful and secret parts of me want to purr. “First time here?” She spoke with a real French accent – which made it all the easier now to identify how fake the cocktail waitress’s was.

  “Yeah,” I said, timidly.

  “Ahh.” Her lips pulled back in an expansive smile. “Welcome to being a bird in a cage then.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “This room is soundproof, and what do you call it –“ she waved a bored hand. “Electricity proof? The cage – invented by Faraday.”

  “Ah – why?”

  “When the stakes are this high, there can be no cheating. We’re allowed to see, but not communicate with our loved ones outside.” On the screen, the dealer started dealing, and the woman leaned closer to me, clinking my glass to hers. “Drink up.”

  The other ‘good luck charms’ and I watched the first hand. I knew they were playing poker – once upon a time I’d dealt it – but what I didn’t know was how much each of the chips they were throwing around were.

  I had a feeling I didn’t want to know, as I watched the first round and saw Mark turn five in, as a dapperly dressed gentleman closer to the screen clapped.

  “Which one is yours?” the woman beside me asked.

  As if to help me, the camera suddenly panned in, showing off the way his brow crinkled in thought at seeing his new cards. So many tells, I could see them from here – didn’t he know better? What did it matter though – it was his money. And I was breaking up with him besides.

  “Him.”

  “Ooooh, he’s a pretty one. What a jaw,” the woman beside me said.

  I twisted to scan the room with all of its delicate decorations on the walls, the marble slab table which held caviar and seventy-year old Glenlivet, the pretty people bending and whispering to one another, with sudden bursts of applause as each round ended. This was the kind of place that Gray wanted to burn to the ground. It didn’t matter how big Mark was – he couldn’t save me.

  And when I finished turning in my seat I saw her there, still staring at me. “And – and you?” I said, and took a sip of my drink, hoping vodka would help everything.

  “That man in the corner.” She said, pointing with an outstretched hand. He had to be over three times her age, maybe four, and I couldn’t have pointed to the bottom of his chin or the beginning of his neck. “The one who looks a little bit like a wrinkled sock.”

  I inhaled enough vodka to burn as I sputtered, “Excuse me?”

  The woman laughed. “I’m allowed to say it. Tonight’s a night for honesty.”

  “Yeah. It is,” I agreed, and took a much larger sip of my drink, this time making sure not to laugh.

  She smiled again. “So how much have you bet on your man? I know it’s gauche to talk about, but I’m bored.” I gave her a blank look as she went on. “Unless you bet on another one of them?”

  I blinked. Had the doors of this hotel taken me to an alternate reality? I hadn’t had that much to drink – unless someone had spiked me.

  “Don’t be shy,” she encouraged, “I bet against my man all the time.”

  “I -- I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, you are so new,” she said, and I got that distinct feeling like I was in high school all over again. “They bet on the game and we bet on them, so on and so forth. This is being televised all over, for those who follow such things. Keeps life random. Makes things fun.” She rocked back into the couch. “There’s no point in living without gambling.”

  The crowd applauded another round, and the camera scanned past Mark. His stacks of chips were greatly decreased, and if I understood her properly – “That is some Hunger Games level bullshit, right there.”

  She tilted her head sharply. “Hunger…Games? But no one here is hungry.”

  She was definitely having fun at my expense. Had to be. “I’m sorry, I – “ I said, and began to stand.

  “Don’t go,” she pleaded, and her expression was genuine.

  Since this was likely the last time I’d ever be in this room, I asked: “Nothing personal, but why the hell are you hanging out with me?”

  She snorted, then lifted one of the sleeves on her shoulder. Underneath was a faded tattoo, murky with time, but definitely of a fleur de lis. She tapped it with one finger, and then looked knowingly at my cleavage, where the flowers I’d wanted to hide peeked out, thanks to Mark. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I was hoping to find some companionship. These people,” she said, swirling her glass to include the rest of the room, “They buy art. We are art. It’s a subtle difference.”

  It must be so hard to be incredibly rich, sexy, and lonely. I stopped myself before my eyes rolled, sat primly on the edge of the couch, and tried to be clinical.

  “I take it you had that before the hotel?”

  “Far before. It’s an original, you could say.”

  Her dress did hide it – I wondered if she had to hide it with all her fancy clothes. “You know – tattoo removal’s come a long way.”

  “Oh, I could never get it removed. I need something here to remind me of home.”

  “Not to judge but – you could cover it up. Or get it touched up, make the lines crisp and firm.” I reached out for her shoulder. “May I?”

  “Certainly,” she said, turning slightly. As I traced the outline on her skin she shivered, and arced her neck to look at me alluringly. “You – your touch is electric. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  “No.” I said in a stern tone. But it wasn’t the first time I’d had clients try to come onto me. “I could clean it up, nice and easy.”

  She took my hand with her hand, smiled, and her eyes widened like pools for the unwary. There’d been a point in Rabbit’s life when he’d watched The Jungle Book incessantly, and I realized hanging out with her this closely was like staring into the eyes of Kaa. I heard a distant smattering of applause, as if others in the room were cheering, her leaning forward and –

  “Angela!” Mark said, appearing in a door. I startled as he walked over, and the woman I was with acted like nothing untoward had happened.

  “Mark –“ I said, stumbling up in relief. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Rosalie,” the woman beside me finally announced, standing to introduce herself to the both of us. “Your woman is irresistible.”

  “Practically magnetic,” Mark said, clapping my ass and then pinching it, where she couldn’t see. I swatted his hand away – I just wanted to escape.

  “Are you done?”

  “I am. And so our date begins, at last,” he said to me, and to her, “I hope you have a lovely stay.”

  “Oh no, darling, I’m a local,” she said, and blew me a kiss as Mark pulled me out.

  I managed not to yell at him until we’d gotten in the car. “What the hell was all that?”

  “A favor for a friend. They had a late cancellation and needed someone to fill the seat. I finished as quickly as I could. We have reservations at Celestial tonight – we can still make them if we hurry.”

  It took me a moment to parse everything. “Wait -- you lost -- on purpose?”

  “Did you think I played poker that badly?” he looked over at me with a wild grin and pulled onto the interstate.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” The accelera
tion of the car pushed me back. “How much money was that?”

  “Just fifty grand.”

  I gasped in horror. He was a man that fifty grand was nothing to? I put fingers to my forehead, trying to stop an oncoming migraine.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Please take me home.”

  He took the next exit and started driving much more slowly. “Why? What’d I do?”

  I twisted in the seat to look at him. “It’s nothing you did – it’s who you are.”

  “Oh, no – Angela, I know tonight was ostentatious, but –“

  “And who I am,” I said, talking over him. “We’re two very different people, Mark. This has been fun, and I really like you but –“

  He pulled over. We were on a backroad, one of the ones that led to a subdivision that’d never been built. “I know what you’re trying to do, Angela. Don’t. Don’t you dare decide things for me.”

  “We’re different, Mark.” Now that we were off the strip I could see the moon in the sky – enough of a sliver to feel its pull. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with me. You think you can handle everything because you have money, but I have problems money can’t solve.”

  He didn’t say anything – he just got out of the car and walked around it, to open my door for me. I got out and grabbed my clutch as an after-thought, I’d be calling a cab if I had too, no way I was walking home in these heels.

  The night wind was strong but he shielded me, standing right in front of me to stare into my eyes. “Do you, or do you not want to be with me.”

  The moonlight made his features cast strong shadows, and I remembered the way his stubble felt against my thighs. He wasn’t going to give me up easily, and inside me a tail thumped with misplaced pride. My wolf had gone and found another alpha.