"You have one," she continues, gesturing to my exposed forearms where my sleeve tattoos are clearly visible. "Cassian does and Jett too. I want one. And I want you to design it for me."
“I know that you said you wanted one, but I supposed I didn’t take it seriously.”
“You mean you don’t take men seriously?” She asks, frowning, but I know she’s teasing.
“Of course I do.”
“Well, I want one…or maybe two,” Sharon says, and she's moving closer to me now, her movements confident despite the nervousness radiating off her.
“I designed one for you before.”
She nods. “I know, but now I want something that represents who I am now, not who I was before I found you guys. My transformation. My rebirth."
She pauses, her fingers tracing the edge of the counter between us.
"But I also want something that represents the pack," she continues. "Something that shows our connection. Our bond. I want both. The phoenix for me, and something else for us."
I set down the appointment book and give her my full attention. The fluorescent lights overhead cast shadows across her face, highlighting the serious set of her jaw. "Okay. Let's do this."
I flip the sign on the door to closed early, even though I had walk-ins scheduled. This isn't just about getting a tattoo. This is about Sharon making a choice. This is about her claiming something that belongs to her.
We move to the back of the studio where I have my private workspace. The lighting here is softer, more intimate. The walls are lined with sketches and designs and photographs of previous work. There's a comfort to this space that makes people feel safe enough to be vulnerable.
Sharon sits on the tattoo chair, and I can see her trying to figure out how to position herself. I walk over and adjust the chair height, showing her how to settle into it so she's comfortable. The leather creaks under her weight as she shifts.
"So where do you want this?" I ask, pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves. The snap of latex echoes in the quiet room. "Somewhere my pack can see it?"
She looks up at me with a small smile. "I want to be able to see it when I look down, and you guys to see it when you look at me."
"Ribs or hip area," I suggest. "And they're places that are... intimate."
I watch as Sharon considers this, her expression thoughtful. Her hand comes up to her side, and she traces an imaginary line along her ribs. "Ribs," she decides. "I want it on my ribs. High enough that I can see it, low enough that it's not going to be visible unless I'm wearing something revealing."
"We're going to need to move your sweater," I say practically. "I can give you a private screen if you want privacy while you change."
“Don’t be silly, you’ve seen all of me,” Sharon says, and there's something confident in her voice.
She pulls off her sweater, and I have to take a moment to just... look. She's wearing a simple black bra underneath, and her skin is beautiful. Soft curves that I've touched before but never with the intention of marking her permanently. Her scent is stronger now that less fabric is between us and the air, filling the small space with strawberry and honey.
"Lie back for me," I say, my voice a little rougher than I intend. "We need to find the exact placement that feels right."
She reclines on the chair, and I adjust the position until she's comfortable. The mechanical hum of the chair fills the silence as I raise it slightly. Then I'm standing over her, looking at the canvas of her skin, thinking about what design would be perfect for her.
"Tell me what you want first," I say. "Before I start designing anything. Tell me what speaks to you. What makes you feel like yourself."
Sharon is quiet for a long moment, and I watch her think. Her eyes are focused on the ceiling of my studio, where I'vepainted a mural of various tattoo designs over the years. Her chest rises and falls with steady breaths.
"I want something that shows connection," she says finally. "Something that represents the fact that I'm bonded to you guys. But I want it to be something that's just mine too. Something that's about me, not just about the pack."
"Connected but independent," I say, understanding what she's asking for. "Strong but flexible. Beautiful but powerful."
"Yes," Sharon says, nodding slowly. Her hair shifts against the leather headrest. "Exactly that."
I pull up a stool and sit beside the chair so I'm at eye level with her. The wheels squeak slightly against the floor. "I have an idea, but I want to run it by you first before I start sketching."
"What is it?" she asks, turning her head to look at me. Her eyes are warm in the dim lighting.
"A knot," I say. "Not a traditional knot. Something that's beautiful in its intricacy but also simple in its meaning. Something that represents the pack bond."
