The machine buzzes to life, that familiar sound filling the room. Lucky’s jaw tightens the second the needle touches skin. His fingers curl against the armrest, muscles flexing, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t say a word.
I watch his face instead of the tattoo. Watch the way he breathes through it. Steady. Controlled. Like he’s done harder things than this and survived just fine.
“You good?” Cole asks.
Lucky exhales through his nose. “Yeah.”
The needle moves, slow and precise. I can see the ink taking shape even if Lucky can’t. Clean lines. Sharp edges. The flame forming piece by piece, the crack cutting through it like a deliberate scar.
Lucky shifts slightly. “Are you enjoying this?”
I lift a brow. “Very.”
Cole works in focused silence, the machine buzzing steady as he builds the lines. Lucky barely moves. His jaw tightens once, then relaxes. He breathes through it like this is just another thing to endure, another line to hold.
I watch the needle instead of his face. Watch the shape come together. The flame first. Dark and solid. Then the crack, cut clean through the center, jagged and deliberate. It looks exactly how it did in my head. Better, even. Like it belongs there.
Finally, Cole wipes the skin clean and leans back. “Alright.”
Lucky straightens immediately, twisting his arm to look.
I step closer without thinking, close enough to see the ink still shiny, the skin around it flushed. The flame sits high on his arm,just below the shoulder, moving subtly when he shifts. The crack splits it without weakening it. Tested. Not broken.
Lucky goes very still.
For a second, I think he’s going to say something smart. Tease me. Ask what the hell I was thinking.
Instead, he lifts his arm slowly, turning it, studying the lines like he’s memorizing them.
“Jesus,” he murmurs.
Cole grins. “Hell of a first tattoo.”
Lucky’s gaze flicks to me. Not heated. Not playful. Something quieter. Something serious.
“This is what you picked,” he says.
I nod. “Yep.”
He looks back at the tattoo, then at me again. “You gonna tell me why?”
I smile, small and satisfied. “Not yet.”
That corner of his mouth lifts. The same smirk he keeps throwing at me like a challenge. “Figures.” He flexes his arm once, watching the flame shift with the muscle. Watching it move like it’s always been there. Then he meets my eyes again. “I like it,” he says, then slides his shirt on, then his cut. Damn, the man is sexy. Even sexier now that he let me choose his first tat.
We head up to the front to pay, the buzz of the machine fading behind us as Cole starts wiping down his station. I reach into my bag and pull out my wallet. Lucky doesn’t even hesitate. Hesteps in front of me, smooth and infuriating, and slides his card across the counter to Cole before I can say a word.
“Hey,” I protest, snapping my wallet shut. “Absolutely not.”
Lucky glances at me, calm as ever. “Absolutely yes.”
Cole looks between us, amused. “You two wanna arm wrestle for it, or should I just run the card?”
“I won the bet,” I say. “That means I pay.”
Lucky leans an elbow on the counter, close enough that I can feel the heat of him again. “You picked the tattoo,” he says. “I’m paying for it.”
“That’s not how bets work,” I argue.
