Broken Bond

Chapter 18

VANESSA

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cal growls, rolling to his side and reaching out to grab for me.

His fingertips brush my waist as I dart away, giggling as I scramble off his bed. I can feel his heavy stare burning into me as I search for my underwear on the floor, stepping into them once I find them and pulling them up my thighs. “I’m thirsty,” I explain, reaching down to scoop up his discarded t-shirt and pulling it on over my head. “Gonna grab a glass of water.”

His shirt smells like him. I inhale deeply, breathing in the subtle notes of juniper, leather, smoke, and spice before tugging my long hair out of the collar, darting him a glance over my shoulder. “Think you’ll survive without me for two minutes?” I tease.

Callum smirks, his eyes dropping to my bare legs and raking up my form slowly before meeting mine again. “I’ll try,” he rasps, running his tongue over his teeth with a devious grin.

Christ, the man’s insatiable. He just had me naked and screaming beneath him, but from the predatory gleam in his eyes, he’s nowhere near done with me yet.

My cheeks flush, my pulse racing as I spin around and pad out of the room, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen. I’ve gotta replenish my fluids before diving in for round two. Not to mention the fact that my throat’s scratchy from how much he had me screaming during round one.

I smile inwardly, rounding the corner into the kitchen and striding over to the sink to retrieve a glass from the cabinet beside it. I hold it under the faucet and fill it up with water, then chug down the entire glass before filling it up to the top again.

As I retreat from the kitchen with the full glass in hand, my eyes are drawn to the wall behind the recliner; the one full of Callum’s sketches. There are a few new ones he’s added on the outer edge, and my breath catches in my throat when I realize that one of them is a pencil sketch of me- a side profile of me curled up with my hand beneath my head, my hair fanning out over a pillow.

Did he draw me while I was sleeping?

It should creep me out, but instead, I move closer to the sketch, my heart squeezing in my chest as I study it. It’s been drawn with such care; so much attention to detail. It’s beautiful, leaving me completely in awe.

“You coming back, babe?” Cal calls from the bedroom.

I giggle, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. So impatient.

I start to turn to head for the bedroom, but something else catches my eye- Callum’s box of tattoo supplies on the side table next to his recliner. A mischievous grin stretches my lips as I reach for it, tucking it against my chest with one arm while clutching the glass of water in my other hand, padding down the hallway toward his bedroom again on bare feet.

“That was longer than two minutes,” Cal grumbles as I step into the room, his eyes immediately landing on the box I’m carrying. He pushes up on his elbows, furrowing his brow. “What are you doing with that?”

My grin widens. I cross the room to him, sliding the glass of water onto his nightstand and jumping onto his bed, bouncing on my knees beside him. “Tattoo me?”

He shakes his head, falling back down onto the pillows and tossing an arm over his face.

“C’mon,” I coax, setting the box down and throwing a leg over his body to climb on top of him, peppering his chest with kisses. ” Please, Callum? Pretty please?”

“Mmm, I like hearing you beg,” he murmurs, still hiding his face beneath his arm. He peels it back, looking up at me with a smirk. “Why don’t you ever beg for my cock like that?”

I gasp, feigning offense, but I’m a shitty actress- within a second, I’m cracking a smile. “As if I’d ever have to beg for it,” I tease, raking my fingernails down his chest lightly. His dick twitches beneath me, proving my point.

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, grasping my hips and grinding himself against me. “It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

I try my best to ignore the heat pooling in my core in response to the feeling of him hardening beneath me. Eyeing him suspiciously, I arch a brow. “Are you trying to distract me?”

He clutches my hips tighter, angling me on top of him so that the head of his cock rubs against my clit. “Now why would I do that?”

I roll my eyes, wriggling out of his grasp and climbing off him, reaching for the box of tattoo supplies again. “Please?” I ask sweetly, batting my lashes as I hold the box out toward him.

His face scrunches into a scowl. “Why?”

“I wanna see what it feels like.”

“But it’s permanent.”

I shrug a shoulder. “So? I love your art.” I lift the hem of his shirt from my thigh, dragging it up my belly to flash him some skin. “Use me as your canvas.”

His eyes zero in on my exposed flesh, and for a second, I think he’s going to agree- but then he just shakes his head again, sitting up and stabbing his fingers through his hair as he scooches back to lean against the headboard.

I set the box back down on the bed, plucking the tattoo gun out of it and testing its weight in my hands. “Can I tattoo you, then?” I ask tenuously, returning my gaze to his.

Something flares in his eyes that looks awfully similar to desire- like the way he looks at me when he’s about to ravage my body. His nostrils flare, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You wanna ink me?”

I nod eagerly.

A slow smirk creeps across his lips. “Sure, babe.”

Wait, what? My mouth drops open, my eyes rounding. “Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

I bounce on my knees excitedly. “What do you want? And keep in mind that I’m not very artistic, it has to be something simple.”

He watches me with amusement, leaning forward to grab for the box of tattoo supplies. “Doesn’t matter to me. You choose.”

While Callum slides off the bed, slips on a pair of boxers, and starts getting everything set up on the nightstand, I rack my brain for what to etch into his skin. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t artistic- if I try to do something too complicated, it’ll turn out looking like a child drew it.

“What color do you want to use?” he asks as he sets out the little ink pots.

“Red.” I smile inwardly, remembering he said that red was his favorite color.

He nods, selecting the red ink and uncapping the little vial. Then he sits on the edge of the bed, plugging in the tattoo gun and switching it on. “Let me show you, first.”

I scooch closer, watching as he dips the needle into the red ink. He brings it over his thigh where he’s already got a tattoo of a red skull. “Put your hand over mine,” Callum murmurs, and I do as he instructs, holding my breath as he guides the gun down onto his skin. “Feel the amount of pressure?

You’ve got to dig in a little to get beneath the skin.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, nodding and focusing on the way the needle looks pressing into his skin, committing his instructions to memory. He pulls the tattoo gun back, taking my hand and wrapping my fingers around it. “Now you try.”

Hesitantly, I lower the needle to his skin, right over the area that’s already inked in red. I press down slowly, inhaling sharply through my teeth.

“A little harder,” Callum coaxes.

I apply more pressure.

He winces a little, but that spark flares in his eyes again, like he enjoys the pain. He trails his fingertips beneath the back of the t-shirt I’m wearing, tracing my spine gently.” That’s perfect, sweetness.”

I grin in satisfaction, my hair whipping as I turn to look at him. “Yeah?” The gun slips, drawing a crooked little line on his skin beyond the red skul;. “Shit!” I hiss, yanking it back with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry!”

Cal just chuckles, shaking his head. “No big deal. I was planning on adding to that design anyways.” He takes the gun from my hands, switching it off and setting it on the nightstand. “Alright, where do you wanna put it?” he asks, swinging his legs up onto the bed and reclining back against the headboard.

I tap my chin, drinking in the planes of his chest and his muscular arms as I consider. Then I reach for his right arm, pulling it out toward me and examining the existing ink. ” Right here?” I ask, tapping the inside of his wrist. There’s an open spot of unblemished skin between his other tattoos.

He nods, grabbing for the gun again. He places it in my hand and explains how and when to add more ink, and when he’s satisfied that I’ve absorbed all of his directions, he turns me loose, flopping his head back and closing his eyes.

He’s placing a lot of trust in a novice.

I flick the gun on, dipping the needle in the ink and exhaling a shaky breath as I bring it over his skin. I’ve watched him do this before, so I feel like I’ve got a general grasp on the process. I grip his wrist in one hand and the gun in the other, and when I press the needle into his skin, Callum doesn’t even flinch.

I start to move the needle, and he makes a low groaning sound that’s eerily reminiscent of how he sounds in bed. I feel like this is turning him on in some strange way, and I’d be lying if his reaction wasn’t making me a little hot. Still, I focus in on my task, gnawing on my lower lip as I drag the needle down, applying pressure like he showed me to.

Between strokes of the needle, I wipe at his skin with a paper towel, and I’m not sure how much of what I’m wiping is blood and how much of it is ink. It all blends, but I’m glad for it, because if I saw too much blood, I’d probably think I was hurting him. His reaction certainly isn’t indicative of pain. His body is completely relaxed, his breathing slow and even. It seems like this is cathartic to him somehow.

It doesn’t take me long to etch the outline of a little heart into his skin. It’s small- less than half an inch in diameter, and when I’m finished, I’m pleased with how it turned out. I’m no artist, but at least I can make something basic like a heart look good. I

switch the gun off and wipe at his skin with the paper towel once more, grinning as I examine my work.

“Done already?” Cal asks, squinting an eye open.

I nod triumphantly, setting the tattoo gun back on the nightstand.

He opens both eyes, sitting up and drawing his wrist closer to get a better look at his new tattoo. Any apprehension I have about his reaction melts away when I see the grin that splits his face. “That’s it?”

“Told you it had to be something basic.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me and drawing me into his chest. “It’s great,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against mine. My arms wind around his neck as he kisses me harder. I haven’t forgotten my original request, though, and I’m not about to allow him to distract me. I pull away, breaking the kiss and gazing into his blue-green eyes.

“My turn.

He hesitates, giving a little shake of his head.

I thrust my lower lip out in a pout. “Please?” I ask, carding my fingers through his hair.

He blows out a frustrated breath, and before he even says it, I know I’ve got him.

“Fine.”

I squeal in excitement, hopping off his lap and reaching for the tattoo gun.

“Whoa, slow your roll,” Callum chuckles, taking the gun from my hand and sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. “Do you even know what you want?”

“Surprise me,” I wink, grabbing for the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing and pulling it off over my head. “I trust you.”

His eyes drop to my bare chest, his pupils dilating at the sight of my nipples hardening in the cool air.

“Focus,” I laugh, swatting at his chest with the back of a hand. I drop sideways over his lap, stretching out and tracing my fingers over the side of my ribs. “I want it right here.”

Cal swallows hard. “Gonna need you to turn the other way,” he mutters. “Won’t be able to focus with your tits in my face.” 2

I heave an exasperated sigh, rolling over and scooching backwards until I’m resting on my other side over his lap. “Better?” I ask, craning my neck to peer up at him.

He nods. I draw anxious breaths while I hear him getting his supplies together, my mind racing with the possibilities of what he’ll ink onto my skin. I’m sure that I’ll love it, no matter what it is. The guy is insanely talented. I just hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

“You ready?” Callum asks once he’s cleaned my skin and has everything in order. “Last chance to back out.”

“I’m ready,” I say quietly, still fighting to calm my racing heart. I flinch at the buzz of the tattoo gun when he turns it on, tensing up as I anticipate the prick of the needle against my skin.

As if he senses my apprehension, Cal counts me down. “One, two, three…”

I yelp as the needle bites into my skin, my body jerking.

His chest rumbles against my back with his chuckle. “Told you it hurts.”

“I can take it,” I grit out, balling my fists. and tucking them into my chest. “Go on.”

He counts me down again, and though I flinch when the needle pierces my skin for a second time, I take measured breaths, squeezing my eyes closed and pushing through the pain. After the first minute

or two, I get used to the sensation and the pain dulls. Something about it actually feels kind of… good. I can understand the appeal.

“You alright?” Cal asks, checking in with me after a couple minutes. I respond in the affirmative and he continues working in silence, the only sound the incessant buzzing of the tattoo needle.

About halfway through, he shuts off the tattoo gun and rummages around on the bedside table, presumably switching colors of ink. Then he starts up again, and while I flinch at the first press of the needle, I quickly relax into it.

His tattoo takes longer than mine did, but it still feels quick. He turns off the gun and cleans my skin with a damp paper towel, and I glance over my shoulder to see him. grinning in satisfaction.

“Is it done?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums.

“Can I see?”

Before he can respond, I’m sitting up, lifting my arm over my head and craning my neck to see my side.

A giggle bursts from my throat.

“Cherries?”

There are two of them, side by side, connected by a green stem with a single leaf and delicately outlined in black. I look back up at him and he’s still sporting a proud smile.

“You smell like cherries,” he says, tugging me close and burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “And you taste like cherries.” He lifts his head, capturing my mouth in a searing hot kiss, sweeping his tongue over the seam of my lips. 2Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

My skin tingles and my toes curl.

“I love it,” I pant when he pulls back, gently touching the raised skin on the side of my ribs.

Callum reaches over to grab a bandage from the nightstand, peeling off the adhesive backing and carefully affixing it over the tattoo on my side. “Keep this on for a few hours,” he instructs. “Then keep it moist with lotion, but even with the silver in the ink, it should be all healed up by this time tomorrow. The benefit of shifter healing.”

I nod, adjusting my position on his lap so I’m straddling him, grabbing his face in both hands and forcing him to look into my eyes. “Thank you.”

A mischievous glint flashes in his gaze, his lips curling into a smirk. “There’s another way you can thank me,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my belly to cover my breasts. He pinches my nipples between his fingers and I draw a sharp gasp. ” Technically I just gave you another drawing.”

I laugh, wriggling my hips over his lap and draping my arms over his shoulders. Our eyes lock and a smirk creeps across my lips. “Guess I should pay up, then.”