11. Chapter Eleven

Icursed internally, swinging my gaze around in time to see Marcus put down his tattoo gun.

"Alright, we"re done," he said, reaching for the alcohol and a roll of paper towels. "That wasn"t so bad was it?"

The guy laying on the table laughed hoarsely. It must have been his first tattoo, because he was sweating and looked like he might have shed a tear or two.

"Not bad at all," he choked. He waited for Marcus to clean the tattoo before hopping up off the table to check it out in the mirror. Instinctively, my eyes followed him to the glass, and I froze, expecting to see the shadow.

There was no sign of him.

Normally, I would have been relieved to see anything other than his intimidating form, but the anxiety of not seeing him had my mind spiraling out of control. I knew he wouldn"t stay gone for long. He never did. I almost wished he"d show himself again, just so I could stop wondering when and where he"d appear.

"You almost ready, baby girl?" Marcus asked, meeting my eyes across the space.

Kid wasn't a nickname I enjoyed, but ‘baby girl' had to come in dead last. Who did he think he was? I wanted to gag, but I forced an awkward smile instead. If I pissed him off, he could sabotage my tattoo. Then I'd really need Luke to fix it when it healed.

Swallowing down the petty urge to call him a man baby, I shrugged. "Ready when you are. Which flash pieces are you doing?"

He gestured to a laminated sheet of examples at his station. "Take your pick. I'll be there in a minute."

Most of the flash tats I"d seen before were pretty generic like hearts, roses, and skulls. These, however, weren"t like the ones framed and hung up on the walls of the shop for customers to see. These were Marcus" personal designs. Some of them were odd, like planet eyeballs, and some were creepy, like sawed-in-half cartoon animals, spilling their blood and entrails.

They were all decent, which was comforting. Nothing award-winning, but I wasn"t expecting grandiose.

My eyes swept over the sheet once, then a second time, trying to figure out what I wanted to put on my body permanently. Even if it could be fixed later, I didn"t want to get something random. I"d have to stare at the thing for the rest of my life potentially. I wanted it to be good.

I hadn"t even thought about where I wanted a tattoo, but I was leaning toward my left forearm. Maybe something small, just above the wrist. I"d always imagined getting a matching tattoo with Lennon there, but after years of begging, I"d finally given up. She wasn"t fond of anything permanent, which ruled out tattoos and piercings.

I looked over the options a third time, narrowing them down to my favorites: a pair of cherries that looked like skulls, a lava lamp full of ghosts, and a carton of beetle juice. Any of them would do, but I wasn"t about to spend more time with Marcus than I had to. The lamp full of tiny ghosts looked like it would take the least amount of time.

But then again, the juice carton pun was too good to pass up.

I was so lost in my thoughts, my eyes bouncing between all the tiny black and white drawings, that I didn"t notice Marcus" client leaving. How he put Saniderm on the fresh ink so fast and shoved him out the door was beyond me, but I didn"t question it. Maybe he was just extra efficient tonight.

"I think I want this one," I said, holding up the sheet and pointing to the lava lamp.

"Anything for you, baby doll." He grabbed a bottle of sanitizer and set to work cleaning up the station, ignoring the obvious annoyance on my face.

It"s a free tattoo, Jovie. Free. I could suck it up and make it through the session, especially considering how rare it was to get free ink. He obviously wasn't going to make it enjoyable though.

When the station was cleaned and reset, Marcus took a seat and pulled on a new set of gloves before his gaze raised to meet mine.

"Do you want me on the table?" It was a simple question, innocent enough, but the glint in his eyes told me I'd regret it before he even opened his mouth.

"You can sit on my lap if you'd rather, but the table is fine."

Heat twinged my cheeks, but not in a good way. I was almost impressed by the amount of audacity he had, wondering if he"d saved up all his witty comebacks just for me, or if he was always this obnoxious. I liked giving people the benefit of the doubt, but I was leaning toward the latter.

With a grimace, I sat on the table and showed him the place on my forearm where I wanted the tattoo. He set to prepping the area and got the stencil applied before I could second guess the placement.

"Do you want to check it in the mirror?" he asked, which was protocol at our shop. Even if the client could clearly see the stencil, we always encouraged them to look at it in the mirror. Sometimes, not often, they changed their mind, but I wanted to stay as far away from my reflection as possible.

"No, I"m good," I said, staring down at the purple ink staining my skin. "Let"s get this over with."

"Alright, then. Lay down for me." He probably didn"t mean it in a bad way—though, at this point, I couldn"t be sure—but his words still made my skin crawl.

I did as he directed, laying down and positioning my arm just so for him to get to the stencil. I was severely regretting my choice of skirt now, and the cut-off shirt that revealed a pale strip of skin and my navel.

I swore, then and there, that I"d never skip laundry day ever again. At least I wore my combat boots so I could kick him in the dick if he tried anything.

My nerves mounted as the tattoo gun buzzed to life, the noise prickling over my skin, but it wasn't because I was afraid of the pain. I wasn't. In fact, I hoped the pain would help settle the constant battle of thoughts and emotions within me. I wanted it to drown out everything for the few minutes it took to permanently mark my skin.

When the needle made contact, pain lanced through my thoughts, shattering them. It didn't hurt as bad as the wings on my back—the point where they met on my spine had been a bitch—but the sting was sharper than I expected.

"You alright, baby doll?" Marcus asked as he dragged the needle along one of the lines. "Let me know if you need to take a break."

I laughed while staying stone still, ignoring the urge to meet every one of his baby dolls with a man baby or something equivalent. Again, I kept it to myself. "I"m good, I promise. I like the pain."

"Oh, a kinky girl. Nice."

I blinked once, twice, ever appalled by this man"s audacity. My jaw hardened, but I refused to acknowledge his remark. It wasn"t worth it, but I was definitely going to talk to Luke about it tomorrow. If this was how he talked to a Getting Stabby employee, there was no telling how he spoke to paying customers.

Just a few more minutes, Jo.

A few more minutes. I could make it.

The sharpness bled into a duller, burning pain, but it wasn"t unbearable. It did a good job of taking my mind off Marcus" annoying comments and the shadow. For a moment, my head buzzed with white noise that matched the sound of the tattoo gun, void of thoughts or conflicts or stress.

It was perfect, soothing, relaxing.

Everything I'd hoped it would be.

Until I opened my eyes...

There, in the corner of my vision, was a dark smudge. It was bigger than normal, blocking out the other side of the shop, making my stomach knot with nerves. I stared directly up at the ceiling, too afraid to look over and see if the shadow disappeared, even though I wanted him to go away. The shadow swelled as the seconds went by, getting larger and darker.

I swallowed hard.

"Almost done," Marcus said, although I barely heard him.

My brain was once again consumed by thoughts, whirling and tumbling over one another as I tried to keep my heart rate low.

I was failing, miserably.

Slowly, I looked to the right, focusing on the dark shadow looming over the table. I expected it to disappear, to dissolve into nothingness like it typically did when I tried to see it directly, but it didn"t. The shadow lingered, its massive form hovering feet from me. A hood and shoulders were visible, although the details were distorted, blurred with dark, swirling shadows.

I held my breath, my eyes locked on the place where its face should be. Dark energy crashed over me, infiltrating my thoughts and making me forget about the tattoo. I forgot about Marcus and the shop. I forgot everything as my heart crashed against my ribs, and I wondered what the shadow would do.

Then, in a blink, it vanished. My mouth fell open.

What the hell?

"All done," Marcus said, breaking my train of thought again. I could barely keep up with the blur of things crashing in my mind. I was so distracted, I hadn"t even noticed how quiet things were suddenly. The tattoo gun was off, its steady buzz silenced.

I blinked hard, convinced the shadow would return if I just waited long enough, but it didn"t. I hurriedly sat up, looking down at the tattoo, even though at this point it didn't matter what it looked like. I was ready to get the hell off this table and out of the shop.

"It looks great," I mumbled, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. I was barely seeing it, fear eating through me and making it hard to think about anything else, but it looked like the picture. Simple, cute, no shading. "Thank you."

"No problem." He winked at me, making my skin crawl. "Let me get some pictures for my portfolio, then we"ll put some second skin on it."

I didn"t want to take pictures. I didn"t even care to put the Saniskin over the ink because I"d just end up picking it off within a day. I hated that shit. Most of all, I didn"t want to be here a second longer than I had to.

I wanted to break into a sprint for the door and get away from the tattoo shop that suddenly felt too small.

I wanted to put as much distance between Marcus and I as possible.

I wanted to leave before the shadow appeared again.

"Sure, no problem," I said impatiently, holding out my forearm.

Marcus pulled out his phone and opened the camera app, frowning as he lined up the shot. I froze, my eyes bouncing between the fresh ink and his perturbed expression. What the hell is his problem?

"The lighting isn"t right," he muttered finally, scratching the back of his blond head. "Why don"t you go stand by the wall? It"s a bit better over there."

I cocked my head. The request was strange, at least in my non-tattoo artist mind, and I wondered what the difference was. To me, the lighting was pretty even overhead, but what did I know?

"Okay," I said, drawing out the word as I slid off the table. I tried not to sound exasperated, even though I was getting more desperate to leave by the second. I was too nice for my own good, being polite instead of telling Marcus to get fucked. I went first, moving to stand in the spot he suggested, and posed awkwardly with my forearm exposed. "Like this?"

He stepped closer, but not nearly close enough to see the details of the tattoo, watching my image on his phone screen. "Yeah, now turn to the side."

I wanted to argue, but followed his instructions, feeling more unsettled as the seconds wore on. What was he doing? He took a step closer, but the angle of the camera still didn"t seem right. If he wasn"t taking a picture of the tattoo, then what was he…

My heart stopped, and the blood drained from my face. Was this creep really taking pictures of me in my outfit? I couldn"t be sure, but that"s what it looked like.

He stepped closer still, pretending to zoom in on my tattoo before I withdrew my arm. Every alarm bell in my head was going off, shrieking as the discomfort in my gut exploded.

"What are you doing?" I asked, forcing myself to sound braver than I felt. Internally, I was panicking, dark thoughts bleeding into my mind.

Run. Run. Run. The tiny voice in my head was adamant, but I stayed glued to the spot.

"Just taking pictures of your tattoo, baby doll," he said, his sickly sweet voice making me nauseous.

"I think you got enough pictures." I sidestepped to go around him, but he matched my movement and held his phone up in front of my face.

"Just one more, then we"re done," he said, snapping another picture. "See, that wasn't so bad? Now, come on and I'll put the Saniderm on."

My stomach churned at the thought of this man's hands on me again, and I shook my head. Fuck the Saniderm. I'd wrap it in plastic wrap when I got home. "That's okay," I assured him. "I have to get going."

Again, I tried to sidestep him, but he blocked my way. "What the hell, Marcus?"

A smile curled his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You don't want that getting infected, do you, baby doll?"

Angry fire sparked in my chest, and I narrowed my eyes on him. "If you call me baby doll one more time, I'm going to infect your mouth with my fist. Now, if you'll excuse me…" I attempted to step around him again, but he blocked my way a third time, grabbing my upper arm and holding me firmly in place.

"You're not leaving until I say you can," he said through gritted teeth, his dark eyes staring down at me mercilessly.

My heart dropped through my ass, all the air punched from my lungs. This definitely wasn't how I foresaw the night going, and I didn't plan to stick around and find out how he thought it should end.

"Like hell." I balled my free hand into a fist and swung hard. My knuckles connected hard enough to his jaw that his head jerked to the side, but he didn't let me go or release his grip.

"You stupid bitch." Marcus shoved me back against the wall, my head cracking against the cinder block, and lights popped in front of my eyes. I tried to get my bearings as his other hand snaked up around my throat, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

"Let me go," I choked out, kicking him in the shin. He winced, but his grip on me was still ironclad.

Memories raced through my mind: my mother being put in similar situations, boys at frat parties cornering me and forcing me to take shots with them as they groped me in the shadows. Everything came swimming back, jacking up my heart rate until it was slamming against my ribs. Blood pounded in my ears.

No.No, no, no. I repeated the word over and over as I fought against his hold, my fingernails digging into any exposed skin I could find. This wasn't happening. It couldn't happen.

I squeezed my eyes closed, thinking of Lennon as my mind went hazy. I was quickly running out of oxygen, my limbs feeling heavy. My lungs burned as I gasped for air, and Marcus just stood there staring down at me, a shit-eating grin curving his mouth.

"Are you going to behave like a good girl, and do as I say?" he asked, leaning in so close I could feel the warmth of his breath spilling over my skin.

"Fuck…you…" I managed, to which his fingers squeezed tighter around my throat.

"You'll learn quick, baby doll," he said, running his tongue along my jawline. I shivered and jerked, fighting and failing to get away.

I wanted to say something, anything, to keep him from getting the last word, but I couldn't utter a noise. He was crushing my throat, and I was nearly out of air. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I was completely at his mercy.

I pried my eyes open to look him in the face, hoping the venom in my glare would convey everything I wanted to say, but a second later darkness exploded in front of my vision. It expanded, shoving Marcus away and prying his fingers from my skin, but it didn't stop me from crumpling to the floor.

I gasped for air, fighting against the darkness bleeding into my vision, but it was still hard to breathe. The air was too thin. Invisible power pressed down on me, threatening to crush me into the floor, and as I craned my neck to look up at Marcus, I found a tall, hooded figure standing in the space that had been empty seconds ago.

Unlike the times I'd seen him before, there were no wisps of smoke curling around his feet. Every detail of the black robe that cloaked him was clear as crystal, and the power he emanated was unlike anything I'd ever felt.

The shadow figure was no longer just a shadow.