Page 50 of Demon's Angel

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.

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