Skins & Needles (COMPLETE)

Crumbling Walls Part 2

Arsen

"I've got an idea."

Charlotte didn't flip to a blank page as I'd expected, but instead worked directly off that one. The wolf in the center stood facing directly forward, its golden eyes appearing to glow on the paper. She began from this wolf, drawing tall, thin trees extending out from behind its imposing form. I watched her skilled hand at work, making detailed leaves with almost imperceptible flicks of her wrist. It was fascinating, and so precise it reminded me of something being printed. After a few minutes, she handed me the notepad and cleared her throat.

"I guess I should have asked where you want it," she said. But I barely cared. It was a work of art. I would be proud to wear it.

"It's incredible," I said, tracing my finger over the details. "I just have one question."

"Oh?"

"The trees don't seem to extend very far out," I said, showing her the blank space on either side of the wolf. "Any reason?"

"Oh, I mean, I usually leave a little extra space in case people want to add on," she explained with a nervous scratch behind her ear. "Like in Adrian's case. He got his wolf, and then added Macy's, and then the baby they're expecting. If I filled it out completely, then you'd always have a lone wolf. Unless you want that..."

"I see." I looked at the drawing, pondered it for a moment, and then realized that she was right. If I was going to commit to this tattoo, this tattoo that somehow felt so attuned to my shifted state that it scared me, then if I ever found someone I wanted by my side, I would want them on my skin as well.

"I can draw something else—"

"No! No. I love it. Now, where to get it..." I had space on my entire body, but I had no idea what tattoos worked best where.

"I mean, this could go a lot of places," Charlotte beamed. "Bicep, thigh, shoulder, calf, chest... Do you have any scars or markings you want to cover up?"

"Hmmm..." I thought, a small smirk coming to my face as I recalled our time together at Solstice. "Remember when you asked me if I'd ever been shot, and I told you I would show you the scar?"

"Well time's a tickin,' mister," she said with a snap. "Off with your clothes!"

I couldn't help but laugh with her as I leaned forward and shucked my t-shirt. She'd seen me shirtless once before, but only briefly, and the way she swallowed made me wonder if I still had an effect on her.

"It healed well, but there's still a definite trace." I poked at the skin of my right shoulder and Charlotte's hand rose to follow. A jolt went through me when her fingers brushed the scar, and I let out a long breath as she examined it.

"It's not too raised," she thought aloud as she traced it, never meeting my eyes. "I can definitely put it here, if that's what you wanted."

"Would it fit?" I asked. In response, she reached for her sketchbook and tore out the paper. She held it over my chest, moving it around a few inches left and right, and then nodded.

"Definitely."

"Then let's do it!" I said this overly enthusiastically, and Charlotte gave me a sly grin.

"Nervous?"

Yes.

"Nope."

"Then I'll go get the stencil. Don't you move." And she walked to the back of the shop where a computer and scanner-copier were located.

I watched her from afar as she worked, leaning over the desk in her tight skinny jeans, and wondered if the attraction, the pull I felt toward her would ever go away. I knew it was more than merely desire, but the fact that I found her sexy as hell didn't help the partly-formed feelings that were constantly trying to solidify go away. With a deep sigh, I turned away from her and instead took to examining the artwork scattered about the walls of the shop.

A few minutes later, she returned with a simplified version of the drawing on what appeared to be a temporary tattoo sheet.

"Stand up," she commanded, and I felt my eyebrows raise.

"Yes, Admiral Andersen." I moved to stand in front of her, where I was instructed to be natural and hold still. Once I was deemed adequately relaxed, Charlotte placed the stencil over my scar and followed it up with a damp rag. When she pulled them both away a moment later, the base design of my tattoo was left on my skin.

"Go look in the mirror and tell me how you like the placement," she said, "and then... Then we can get started."

"That sounded way more devious than makes me comfortable," I noted, but did as she said. I stared at the outline for a long time in the floor-length mirror, readying myself to wear it on my skin for life, and then headed back to the chair.

"Good?" she checked, giving me a thumbs up and a thumbs down to choose from. I tapped the thumbs up with my own and smiled.

"Good."

"Then, we can begin." Her eyes met mine with a curious glint as she said this, and then she turned her gaze to her tools. She first poured out a variety of paint colors from black, silvery gray, a few hues of orange and yellow, some deep green shades, and two browns.

Once finished, she lifted her machine.

"Ready?" she asked, dipping it in the black ink and activating the gun to absorb it.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Ink me up, Char."

Her now gloved hands extended toward me, one with the machine, and the other gently bracing her against my chest. My breath hitched as she moved the needle toward me, and then...

It was more like scratching than the stabbing pain I'd expected. Like a mechanical pencil being dragged across my skin. My breath exited my nose in relief as she began lining the outside of my wolf. This wasn't terrible at all. And as I watched the lines progress, I understood how this artistic brand of pain could become addictive.

"How you doin?" Charlotte asked after a minute, presumably giving me time to adjust.

"I was bitten by a Mojave rattlesnake like a week ago, so this isn't bad at all," I teased, before realizing I probably shouldn't have told her about that.

She gasped and looked at the bandage on my side.

"You...!" she began, and then returned to her work with a scowl. "That's what that's from? I was going to ask, but..." She shrugged.

"You figured I wouldn't tell you?" I finished. I expected a downtrodden look from her, as I had seen when this sort of topic had arisen, but her expression remained even.

"Something like that."

She continued lining, and we began making small talk. How is everyone? How's work? How's your side? Oh, Macy had her baby? I hope they're doing okay. Are your ribs all healed? Good to hear.

And that's when she hit me.

"So, were you ever planning on telling me you're a werewolf?"

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:)