Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
The tenderness behind Laurent’s words made Beast look away for a few seconds, but he squeezed Laurent’s fingers even firmer. “Thanks. I like them. They stop people from pitying me because of the scars. But sometimes... this is just unbearable,” Beast said and rubbed his face with his free hand.
Laurent watched him in silence for a while. “Would it be possible to go somewhere today where I could get tattooed? I want to know how it feels. I want to understand it.”
Beast stared at Laurent, not sure what to think. “It can hurt,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss Laurent’s forehead. He pushed back the long hair and rested his chin atop Laurent’s head, bringing him closer.
“I’m ready to hurt,” Laurent whispered, and Beast couldn’t pinpoint why it felt like they were talking about different things.
He exhaled, watching Laurent with growing curiosity. He seemed completely sure of his idea. “What do you want to have tattooed?”
“This one.” Laurent trailed his fingers over Beast’s collar bones. “The path to Paradise begins in Hell.” Beast swallowed, trying to convince himself Laurent simply wanted a quote of Dante’s Inferno because he had intimate knowledge of the text, yet it still felt as if Laurent was about to pick it off Beast’s skin.
Beast couldn’t bring himself to speak for several moments, then squeezed Laurent’s hand firmly and nodded. Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon anyway, so maybe not going to the waterpark was a good thing after all.
*
After the fiasco at the waterpark, entering the tattoo shop was like coming home. Beast had spent endless hours here, having his skin covered in ink, inch after inch. Here, he was respected and greeted with smiles, not shunned like a leper.
Jabba, the owner, was still working on a client when they came over, but one word from Beast was enough for him to make the effort and move the next appointment to make a spot for Laurent. The steady buzz of the tattoo machine gave Beast a pleasant kick. Having had so much work done, he perceived the ache caused by the needle repeatedly stabbing at his skin somewhat pleasant, and he couldn’t help but relax at the sound.
Nudity always made Laurent a bit flustered, so he looked away when Jabba’s client slid off the tattooing bed and looked at her back in the mirror. As soon as Beast saw what it was that she had done, his good mood plummeted.
The tattoo was large yet simple, with no frills it read Property of Claw. And she wanted everyone to know so much she had it permanently etched in her skin.
When he glanced at a chair nearby, he noticed a leather vest with patches of a biker club from New Hampshire. He felt physically sick at the sight of it. As if Laurent’s rejection hadn’t been enough, and it now needed to be rubbed in even at a place he considered his safe haven.
The girl turned, watching her back in a mirror with a glow of happiness on her face. Put a veil on her, and she’d look like a bride without even donning a white dress.
Jabba shifted his corpulent body and smiled, looking at his client. “Happy?”
She grinned and rocked her hips to the sides, making the design move along with her muscles. “He’s gonna be so surprised.”
Laurent cleared his throat. “Do you not value your freedom?”
Beast scowled and looked out the window, not wanting to watch the property tattoo done as a tribute to some guy when he couldn’t even get patches on Laurent. It shouldn’t bother him so much but it did. It opened the barely closing gash in his heart and poked at it with spikes.
The girl laughed. “Oh, come on. You guys always say marriage is like prison, but it isn’t really. You’re just a bunch of complainers. This is a big deal for me. My man finally asked me to be his forever.”
Laurent groaned, making Beast want to stay out of this conversation altogether. “You cannot know what it will entail in a few years,” his voice was harsh, as if he had any right to scold a stranger. “When you are someone’s property, they can beat you to death, bury you, and no one would even know!”
Jabba frowned at him. “Whoa there! Chill out, man.”
But the girl got even more agitated. “What the fuck, asshole? What can you know about my relationship? I’m getting married, not entering into a pact with the devil.”
Laurent twisted his fingers together in frustration. “I’ve seen people punished for no fault of their own. Tossed into the gutter with no means of survival after years of living as property, and still, after a week or two they crawl back to their masters for even a glimmer of security!”
Jabba glanced at Beast. “Is he high?”