Chapter 273: The Ink Chair

Vivian’s POV

I felt all the blood drain instantly from my pale face. The metal needles sitting on the stainless steel tray looked way too sharp and menacing. From somewhere right behind me, I heard someone shuffling around softly probably Eddie, rummaging through what had to be the tattoo room’s attached supply bathroom.

There was a plain wooden chair positioned slightly off to the side of the room, set at just the right angle to see the artist at work, though thankfully it blocked a direct view of the actual tattoo design itself. Zahliver gently nudged me toward it, silently urging me to sit down and rest. I did so for a split second. Then I popped right back up to my feet.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, looking as if he had fully anticipated that I would be difficult about this whole ordeal, and shrugged off his dark coat and then the sweater beneath it, folding them up and handing them straight to me. I took them automatically without a single word of protest, folding his clothes neatly over my arm. I was not about to interrupt his little birthday show just yet not when things were getting interesting.

He was wearing a crisp white button-up shirt underneath, and the way the fine fabric clung tightly to his broad frame... yeah, it should have honestly been a pack crime to look that impossibly good. Broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, and sharp lines it felt like a minor miracle that I could even remember how to breathe normally in front of him. Still, I forced my brain to focus on the reality of the situation.

"I still cannot believe you are actually getting a tattoo," I muttered, trying and failing to make any logical sense of it.

"I am not getting a tattoo," he replied smoothly, sounding slightly distracted as his long fingers began casually fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt.

I blinked twice. "You are not?" Then, after a beat of silence, I narrowed my eyes and squinted at him suspiciously. "Please do not tell me you are getting your nipples pierced."

He paused mid-movement, then shot me one of those slow, intensely amused glances as he tugged his shirt off completely over his shoulders.

"No, I am not. But would you actually like me to?" he asked, arching a dark brow playfully.

Yes!! my inner wolf practically purred out loud inside the corners of my mind.

"No!!" I snapped out loud just as quickly, scowling at myself much more than at him.

His handsome smirk grew wider, slow and wicked. "Are you entirely sure about that?" he teased, holding out his discarded shirt for me to hold.

Do not look down, do not look down, do not look down... for the love of the moon goddess, do not look down at his chest.

"Zahliver," I said firmly, dragging my burning eyes upward to force them to meet his gaze. I needed real answers right now, not cheap physical distractions.

He let out another one of those theatrical sighs. "Fine. I am not getting a tattoo. I am getting tattoos," he corrected with that smug little tone that clearly told me he thought this whole thing was hilarious.

He walked over to the black leather reclining chair and stretched out across it like he had every single right in the world to look like some fallen god resting on a throne. Honestly, it was entirely unfair how attractive he was it felt like staring at absolute perfection sculpted directly into living flesh. And now he wanted to permanently alter and mess it up with ink?

"What the hell, Zahliver? Since when do you want ink? You have never once in all the time I have known you said a single word about wanting tattoos!" My voice carried a sharp edge of rising panic as I stomped over to him, leaning directly over the chair and glaring down into his face.

He frowned a little at my tone, his large hands coming up to gently cradle my face in his palms. His warm thumbs rubbed softly against my high cheekbones, trying to ground my scattered energy.

"You are genuinely upset about this, aren’t you, love?" he murmured, studying my expressive face like he could read every single chaotic thought racing through my head.

Of course I was upset!

"Wouldn’t you be upset? If I suddenly announced out of nowhere that I was doing something permanent to my body without telling you a single thing about it beforehand?" I asked, my irritation bubbling right up to the surface. "It is not just some temporary marker, Zahliver. It is your literal skin. What if the artist’s hand slips, or hell what if they accidentally sneeze right in the middle of a delicate line?"

His gaze softened considerably as he looked up at me, and then, without any warning at all, he pulled me downward and captured my lips in a kiss. It was slow and deep. His warm lips brushed against mine with absolute purpose, instantly stealing all the remaining air right out of my lungs. I had to catch my balance with one hand planted firmly against his bare chest, mostly because my knees had suddenly turned straight to jelly.

He nipped playfully at my top lip, then dragged the warm tip of his tongue slowly over my bottom one. Before I could completely melt into a puddle on the clinic floor, he ended the kiss and pulled back, leaving me totally dazed and gasping for air even though the kiss had only lasted maybe thirty seconds.

"So... about the tattoos?" he asked again smoothly, his thumb stroking gently over my cheekbone.

I blinked rapidly, feeling completely thrown off balance and outmaneuvered. I knew for a fact that he was intentionally distracting me. He was totally manipulating me right now. And the absolute worst part about it? It was working like a charm.

"Fine," I said with a heavy, dramatic huff, glaring down at him despite the bright smile desperately tugging at the corners of my lips. "Just do not come crying back to me in a few years when you regret them all and try to blame me for not stopping you from making poor life choices."

He gave me a smug little grin that looked entirely like a man who felt he had already won the argument. Which, okay, maybe he totally had.

"What are you even getting inked, anyway?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "A little bird? The mystical tree of life? Some pretentious poetic howling wolf nonsense?"

He rolled his eyes so hard upward I honestly thought they might get stuck that way.

And just like that, I realized with a groan that I was definitely not going to get a straight answer out of him anytime soon.

"Maybe it is just a surprise," Zahliver said, a smug glint shining brightly in his deep blue eyes.

I huffed, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "This right here is exact proof of why I really do not like surprises."

Before he could open his mouth to fire back a witty response, the clinic bathroom door creaked softly open and out walked Eddie. She paused mid-step, her dark gaze flicking back and forth between the two of us. My eyes shifted instantly from her over to the very shirtless Zahliver lying on the chair and just like that, I felt it: my inner wolf rising up aggressively to the surface.

My eyes gleamed a bright, warning silver as I turned a fierce glare back down at my mate. No way in hell, I growled viciously through our mental link.

Zahliver responded with a long, utterly weary groan echoing inside my mind.

To be completely honest, the introduction and greeting that followed shortly after was about as stiff and painfully uncomfortable as it could possibly get and that was entirely thanks to me and my territorial glaring. Despite every single fiber of my being screaming at me to drag him out of the building, Zahliver eventually managed to convince me to let Eddie do her job.

She was a striking, edgy sort of woman slim, maybe five-foot-eight, with warm caramel-toned eyes and striking dyed purple hair that faded into bright blue at the tips. One side of her head was shaved completely down in an intricate design that looked remarkably like musical notes etched into her scalp. She did not say much beyond a basic, professional hello, which, quite weirdly, actually made me like her a tiny bit more... or at least hate her a whole lot less.

Still. I was expected to just sit quietly in a corner and watch this punk-rock tattoo artist lean in close over my mate, my male, and touch his bare, muscular skin? Even with sterile medical gloves on, it made my blood boil hot in my veins.

I sat down in the wooden chair positioned at a terrible, frustrating angle that gave me zero view of what she was actually doing to his skin, but I honestly did not even need to see it to feel the phantom heat rising beneath my own skin. I could practically see red glowing in my vision. She had to be acutely feeling the crushing weight of my intense death glare burning a physical hole straight through her back. And Zahliver? He was just soaking it all up like it deeply amused him. I could vividly feel his quiet satisfaction and his inner chuckles feeding off my raging possessiveness.

I really did not like this one bit.

I say we make her sing opera for us since she clearly likes touching things that do not belong to her, my wolf growled in a low, deeply vengeful voice in the back of my mind.