Page 48 of Dravin

“Uh- I…” Never in my life would I ever have thought that Dravin would ever slip up.

“It won’t go anywhere. The other people who work here are good shit and Crow is the equivalent of a vault where information is concerned. He’s already told us not to tell the other brothers that he puked.”

“He puked?”

“Crow says it’s not the first time a client’s yakked. They’ve got him cleaned up. He needs to eat something, though. Maybe you can convince him.”

“I’ll do more than that. He’s lucky if I don’t string him up by his—”

“Maybe pencil in the angry castration after we get him caloried up and get some sugar into him. It’s lucky that he lives above the shop, but he still has to get up there.”

She’s trying to be funny and thank goodness for that. I’d probably collapse if she was morbidly serious right now. At last with Tarynn here I can imagine the worst and still want to laugh out in profound relief. I guess if he’s wanting to protect his macho pride then he can’t be feeling that bad.

“Can you take me to him?”

“Sure. I’ll get the other guys to come for dinner.”

Privacy. She gets it.

She locks the front door now and takes my hand, holding tighter than she has to. She walks me back past a reception desk overflowing with several different large books, and past several different rooms where the doors are open, but they’re too dark to make out details.

The last room is a big one, with all the trappings of a tattoo artist, including several rolling stations set up with ink cups, bottles, paper towel, and tattoo guns set out. There’s a huge TV in the corner, on mute, playing music videos. My eyes flick there for half a second. The guy on the screen actually almost looks a little bit like Dravin with his new haircut.

Dravin’s sitting up on the big table, legs hanging over the edge, his feet scraping the floor. He’s barefoot, but he’s got his jeans back on. They’re undone at the top and there’s nothing I can see sticking out except for his muscles and a hint of dark hair. I swallow thickly. Now isnotthe time to get feral over seeing him naked, even if he’s shirtless, his muscles tense so they look rock hard, the veins standing out all over his arms. He looks like he’s about to enter one of those body builder competitions where they’re flexed and oiled up. A sheen of sweat coats his skin, but he’s missing the tan.

He’s pale to the point of chalky, eyes ringed in dark circles, and he’s shaking so damn hard that the massage table thing is actually vibrating and it doesn’t look cheap or lightweight.

“Holy shit, Dray. You look any worse and they’re going to call an ambulance.”

He lifts his head, stares at me through bleary, unfocused eyes, but then he raises one hand from the trashcanand flips me off, a thick silver ring made up of skull heads flashing in the bright overhead lighting.

There are two younger looking guys in here and Crow, all dressed in various outfits comprised entirely of black, and one gorgeous woman. With her short blue pixie cut and tiny stature, she looks like a badass fae. She laughs and claps her hands, all her nose and lip piercings catching the light.

“I think he’s well enough for us to take a dinner break.” She shakes out her hands. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve been cramping up for hours and I’m starved.” She smiles at me. “We were waiting until he asked for a break until we took one, but we didn’t know the guy’s made out of fucking marble.”

She’s also trying to make me feel better about this whole thing.

Tarynn runs her hands down my arms, smoothing away my goosebumps and unknotting my bound up throat. “We’ll just be out there. He’s wrapped up already, so you can join us whenever you’re feeling up to it.”

Crow walks in front of Dravin and chucks his chin up. “Get your shit together,Viking. I’m starved.”

“We ordered food,” one of the guys points out. He has colorful tattoos all over his arms and creeping up his neck.

“That’s not the kind of starved I have in mind. I’m anxious to get home.”

Tarynn punches him in the shoulder and leans in so Dravin can see her. “Don’t listen to him. You take as much time as you need.”

Crow nods and turns to me. “Seriously though, let me know if I need to call someone. The guys at the club, our club physician. The ice cream delivery guy. You name it, we’ll have it here for you.”

“The ice cream delivery guy?” Someone scoffs from behind me. It’s the other guy. The one also covered in ink, including along both sides of his face near the temples and down over the jawline.

“I’m sure some place would deliver. We could order a cake,” Crow responds dryly.

“Can we do that anyway?”

“Okay. Come on. All of you. What Dravin probably needs is air.”

“Are you implying that I don’t smell good, Tarynn? I’m wounded.”

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