Page 111

FourWeeksLater

The tattoo gun hummed against my palm like a mechanical heartbeat. Almost a month since the warehouse, and I'd finally stopped flinching at unexpected sounds. Now I could focus on what mattered—making sure Thor didn't squirm and ruin the delicate wing details on his Valkyrie.

"Hold still, you giant baby," I chided, adding careful shading to the feathers. The design sprawled across his left shoulder blade—magnificent even half-finished. "You've sat through worse. This is nothing compared to that back piece."

"That wasn't for my wedding," Thor grumbled, but he stilled under my hands. The massive Viking who'd taken bullets without flinching was nervous about a tattoo. "What if she doesn't like it?"

"She designed half of it with me." I dipped the needle in fresh ink, purple-black that would heal to perfection. "Trust me, she's going to love it."

The piece was impressive, Mandy as a fierce Valkyrie, wings spread wide, her sword raised triumphant. Below her, Thor's hammer lay waiting, wrapped in chains that morphed into Norse runes spelling out their wedding date. The detail work had taken three sessions already, each line a meditation on love and commitment.

"Besides," I continued, working on the delicate chainmail of the Valkyrie's armor, "you literally cried when you saw the final sketch."

"Allergies," he muttered.

"In my air-conditioned shop. Sure." I bit back a smile, focusing on a particularly tricky bit of shading. The Valkyrie's face held Mandy's exact features—soft eyes that could turn fierce, that little smirk she got when Thor was being particularly thick-headed. "Just admit you're a romantic under all that leather and attitude."

"Your man know you're abusing paying customers?"

"My man knows I tell the truth." The words came easy now, no more hiding. No more pretending Tyson was just another brother. "Unlike some people who pretend they got something in their eye during The Notebook."

"That was one time!" Thor's shoulders tensed, and I lifted the gun immediately.

"And if you mess up this wing because you're protesting your secret soft side, Mandy will kill us both." I waited for him to relax before continuing. "Deep breath. We're almost done with this section."

"It's fucking perfect," Thor breathed when I finally sat back, letting him twist to see in the mirror. The movement made the Valkyrie's wings seem to flutter, the chains around Mjolnir catching the light. "Jesus, Lena. She's gonna cry."

"Good tears, I hope." I applied moisturizer to the tattoo, then dressed it in plastic wrap. "Otherwise I'm blaming you for not sitting still enough."

"Good tears," he confirmed, still staring at the reflection. His voice had gone soft, wondering. "Can't believe I'm marrying her on Saturday."

"Can't believe she said yes," I teased, wrapping his shoulder carefully. "Remember, no swimming, no direct sunlight, and—"

"No picking at it, keep it moisturized, I know." He stood, all six-foot-four of tattooed muscle and barely contained emotion. "You doing the matching ones today?"

"This afternoon. Five bridesmaids, five matching infinity knots." Each design would be small, delicate—Celtic knots forming an infinity symbol on the inside of their wrists, the wedding date hidden in the weave. Mandy had drawn the original herself, surprising me with her artistic eye. "Speaking of which, Duke taking bets on whether I'll catch the bouquet?"

Thor's grin turned wicked. "Duke's taking bets on everything. Don’t want to tell you the odds he gave me on the two of you tying the knot."

It felt so good that our secret was out now. No more sneaking, no more lies, no more pretending I didn't light up like Christmas whenever Tyson walked in.

Speaking of which—the door chimed, and my body recognized him before my eyes did. That shift in the air, the way everything suddenly felt more solid, more real. Tyson stepped inside carrying two cups.

"My girl torturing you, brother?" He set one cup on my desk—vanilla sweet cream cold brew, perfect as always—before turning to inspect Thor's shoulder.

"Your girl's an artist," Thor admitted, pulling his shirt on carefully. "Worth every second of pain."

“Glad you think so.” I said, grinning.

"Of course." Thor headed for the door, pausing to look back. "See you both on Saturday. Try not to defile the shop—I know that look, Tyson."

"Get out," Tyson growled, but without heat. The door closed on Thor's laughter, leaving us alone in the afternoon quiet.

He moved immediately, drawn like always. Not grabbing or pushy, just... close. His hand found my waist, thumb stroking over my shirt, grounding us both.

"You good, wildflower?" The nickname still made me melt, especially in that careful tone he used when checking my emotional temperature.

"I'm good." I leaned into him, breathing in leather and coffee and that cologne that meant safety. "Better now."