Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Great,” he says, giving her a humorless smile.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he manhandles me to a chair.
He doesn’t reply.
My stomach twists as he pushes me down into the seat. If anyone notices how he manhandles me, they don’t comment. Everyone minds their own business. I suppose it has a lot to do with the scary, bad boy vibe Leon gives off.
Five minutes later, a young guy wearing a sleeveless T-shirt steps from a room on the side and tells us to enter.
I swallow when I take in the equipment.
“What do you want?” the guy asks.
“Initials,” Leon says. “LH.”
My mouth drops open.
“That’s easy,” the guy says, shoving a brochure into Leon’s hands. “Have a look at the fonts and tell me what you like.”
Leon looks at the page filled with fonts for all of two seconds before handing it back. He presses a finger on a simple, cursive script. “This one.”
“Where do you want it?” the guy asks.
“On her inside thigh, as close to her groin as possible.”
This is happening so fast my head is spinning.
The guy pulls on a pair of surgical gloves. “Take off your jeans and lie down on the bed.”
It takes me a moment to register that he spoke to me. Leon takes my hand and pulls me to the medical bed. The guy turns his back while Leon pops the button of my jeans through the buttonhole and wiggles them down my legs. He pauses to remove my sneakers before freeing my feet.
“There’s paper towels on the shelf,” the guy says, stenciling the letters on rice paper. “You can cover yourself if you like.”
“I don’t want a tattoo,” I say when Leon lifts me onto the bed and pushes me down.
The guy pauses to look at me, but Leon is blocking the view with his body.
“Keep your eyes in the front until I tell you that you can look,” Leon says. “Unless you’re happy to lose your eyeballs.”
The man shuts his mouth at that.
Leon covers me with a sheet of paper that resembles the material of hospital gowns. “We’re ready.”
No, we’re not.
I try to sit up, but Leon easily holds me down.
“I said I don’t want it,” I say through clenched teeth.
Leon’s tone is uncompromising. “And I already told you that you’re getting it.”
The guy wipes his arm over his forehead, but he doesn’t question my reluctance as he shows Leon the initials on the rice paper.
Leon nods.
The man tells me to scissor my legs, which makes my hip ache, but I’m too distressed to give the discomfort any thought. I can’t believe Leon was serious about this.
“Can you give her something for the pain?” Leon asks.
The guy throws a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a bowl filled with suckers. “She can bite down on one of those.”
Placing the rice paper on the inside of my leg, the man traces the initials while Leon walks to the bowl and inspects the contents as if what he’s doing is an everyday occurrence and not a violation of my rights and my body.
“Strawberry, apple, or lemon?” Leon asks.
It’s difficult to hold back my tears. “I don’t want a damn sucker.”
“You’ll want it when I start,” the man says. “The inner thigh is particularly sensitive, especially so close to your—”
“If you refer to my wife’s private parts with a crude term, I’ll break your jaw,” Leon says in a cold tone. “You won’t speak for a very long time.”
“I was going to say groin,” the guy says, looking insulted.
Leon carries a strawberry sucker to me. He removes the wrapper and says, “Open.”
“Did you hear what I said?” I clench my jaw. “I don’t want a tattoo.”
Bending down, he strokes a thumb over my cheek. “It’s either a tattoo or I carve my initials into your skin. Your choice.” When I only swallow, he says, “Thought so.”
He gives a nod at which the hum of the tattoo gun starts up. I know I’ve lost another battle when the sharp sting of the needle pierces my skin. Giving a start, I drag in a breath.
Shit, that hurts.
“The black is the worst,” the guy says. “The colors don’t hurt as much.”
“Let me guess.” I gnash my teeth, giving my husband a cutting look. “You chose black.”
Leon smooths a hand over my hair. “Not to hurt you on purpose.”
“Only to mark me,” I say, biting back tears that have nothing to do with the pain.
“Here,” Leon says, teasing my lips with the sucker. “Why don’t you bite down on this? It’ll help.”
Like he knows. He’s not the one getting inked.
Stubbornly, I turn my face away, but he catches my chin and applies just enough pressure on the joints of my jaw to force my mouth open.
“Everything doesn’t always have to be a fight,” he says, popping the sucker into my mouth.