Page 12 of Marked By The Filthy-Mouthed Grizzly
“No, I don’t mind,” he says. “I’m a grizzly bear shifter.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “I’ve never met a bear shifter before.”
I look at him over my shoulder, which is a big mistake. He looks so sexy all concentrated on my skin and it makes me want to stare at him for hours.
“What have you met?” he asks. “Let me guess, wolves?”
I nod. “Yeah. My two half-brothers were wolf shifters.”
The machine stops. I turn to look at him and his eyes darken slightly as he swallows hard. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, throat tightening. “They just… passed.”
I can see him stiffening. His jaw locks for a second, and something unreadable flickers across his face.
I get it. Everyone acts differently when it comes to death. Some people get really uncomfortable with the topic.
“Sorry to hear that,” he says as he turns his focus back on my tattoo. The machine start back up and so does the stinging pain.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thanks. I didn’t really know them very well, and from what I did know, they weren’t very...” I sigh, wondering how much I should divulge to a stranger. He’s a hot stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. “I thought a tattoo might help. Just something to remember them by, you know? They were troubled, but even troubled souls need to be remembered. And they were my brothers, so…”
He nods again, quiet. Just the humming of the machine as he works each line.
“What were their names?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I’m almost ashamed to say their names in case he knew of them. I don’t want him thinking I was anything like my brothers.
“Knox and Mace Rourke,” I say, suddenly self-conscious.
The other two tattoo artists, Victoria and the big guy with the bright blue eyes, whip their heads around and stare at me, slack-jawed. It’s only for a second though. They quickly glance at Magnus and get back to work.
Maybeeveryonearound here knew my brothers…
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says with a low, gravelly voice. “I think a tattoo is a wonderful idea to honor your brothers.”
There’s something tight and tense in his voice, like he’s holding his breath while trying to act normal. His jaw is clenched, and his grip on the tattoo machine seems a little tighter than before. The strokes hurt more, the needles cutting into my skin.
And something in the air changed. I can feel it. The relaxed atmosphere is gone. Even the other two tattoo artists stopped joking around with their clients. It feelsheavyin here.
Did I say something wrong?
Did they know my brothers?
I glance at Victoria again. She’s still working on her client, but I can tell she’s listening—her shoulders stiff, her jawclenched. It’s like I threw a grenade into the middle of the room and everyone’s just pretending it didn’t go off.
“They weren’t in my life much,” I quickly add, my voice a little breathless as I try to ease whatever tension I just created. “My brothers, I mean. We had different moms. Mine moved away when I was still little and took me with her. She kept me kind of sheltered from them. I didn’t even see them that often growing up.”
Magnus hums something low under his breath, like a sound of acknowledgment, but it doesn’t ease the tension in his shoulders.
“They were… scary,” I admit, hoping to lighten the air. “My mom never trusted them. I never brought friends around them. Never really knew how to be with them. How I fit into the family.”
He doesn’t say a thing. He just keeps working.
“I don’t really know what happened at the end,” I continue, “but… it didn’t surprise me when the call came.”
More silence.
Won’t someone say something?
