“And what do you think of your studio?”
We step into the room next to my office which has floor-to-ceiling windows. The lighting is perfect for Ilian to do custom ink work away from his downtown shop.
In fact, he’s even been teaching me a little bit. I won’t be ready to do my first tat for many months, but under his skilled supervision, I can finally indulge in my passion.
He’s since added three more tats at my request—a skull like his with one broken horn, a matching death moth like the one on his chest, and a shooting star.
To always remind me that dreams do come true.
As predicted by Ilian, no tat-gasms resulted as he already imprinted on me back in Berdsk, but a girl can wish.
“Do you want to throw a house party? We can invite some of my clients, the editor from Inked, and Yuri, Sakura, and Dairfyn might come.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever properly thrown a party. It could be fun. Do you think Sakura’s parents will want an invite?”
We chuckle, and Ilian shakes his head. “Not a chance. We can host the party in the spring when the weather’s better.”
“It’ll have to be early spring. We have our trip coming up.”
Ilian and I are going inking, a term I’ve coined for traveling around the country and getting tats from certain artists.
Anymore, Ilian’s is the only ink I want on me, but we both will enjoy meeting all the owners and seeing their work.
I sigh, really drinking in the moment. “Thank you,” I whisper into Ilian’s fur as I wrap my arms around him as best as I can.
“For what?”
“For giving me a home, for spoiling me, for loving me.”
“Soyam, I told you, my money is yours. And have you not given me the very same things? You are my home, and you spoil me with your love.”
“We’re a regular match made in heaven—or in our case, a tattoo parlor.”
“Indeed. Now what do you say about consecrating our new home?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Sex in every room?”
“Sex on every surface?” I counter.
“Both?”
“Both,” we chime together.
He pushes me roughly against the wall, his skull diving into my neck while he nips at the sensitive flesh.
Over his shoulder, I spy the framed picture of my drawing that I entered for the Inked contest—the very one that started this whole thing. It’s the perfect reminder of our story.
And I can’t wait to see how our happily ever after ends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ilian
One Year Later
“Nervous?”
“Nope.”
I smirk down at Zhuliya, knowing that she’s lying—I can feel her anxiety through our bond.
“Breathe, soyam. You’ve got this.”
With steady hands, Zhuliya brings the irons to the patch of skin exposed on my upper thigh where I shaved away the fur.
The longer she works, the surer my mate becomes, and I watch in fascination as Zhuliya loses herself to the art blossoming onto my flesh.
Her eyes glaze over, and I note she’s going into a trance similar to what happens to me. I’m enthralled by the serene expression that softens her features.
A small smile curls her lips as she works, and I swear there are stars in her eyes. Zhuliya says she falls in love with me every time she watches me work.
And now I get it.
For over an hour, my mate labors until her hands cramp up and pull her back to the present. She jolts, blinking up at me until her gaze refocuses.
