I don’t want this. This marriage. This connection.
…Right?
Chapter Twelve
Aksel
“Do you and Hale have any plans for a future family? “It’s up to Hale.”
“So, you have no preference on the matter?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, and if he wants to have babies in the future, I’m ready whenever he is. I don’t think my opinion on the matter is as important as his, though. He’s the one who will have to carry the baby, sacrificing his body and timefor it. So, I think he should be the one who decides on that.”
“Seems like you never really have an opinion about what you want? Aren’t you a little too whipped for your omega, Mr. Winther?”
Aksel’s eyes narrow menacingly. “Is there such a thing as being too in love? I didn’t think so, but please, tell me if I’m wrong, Cammie.” When sheshrugs uncomfortably and averts her gaze, he says, “I didn’t think so.”
Chapter Thirteen
Welcome to Tattoo Spectacle.
I’m your host, Ewan McManus, and tonight the competition gets even more interesting.
Our remaining artists are fighting for a million dollars, but apparently, that’s not the only thing sparking around here. Because while they’ve been battling with ink, two of them may have experienced something a little more permanent… a Vegas wedding complete with an Elvis impersonator.
That’s right. In between clean lines and blown-out shading, we’re sitting down for a very honest interview about the momentit happened, and whether it was fate… or just pheromones and bad judgment.
But don’t get comfortable. Romance doesn’t stop the clock. Tonight’s challenge is brutal, the pressure is real, and apologies won’t fix a shaky outline.
This is Tattoo Spectacle. Let’s see which connection lasts longer, the ink… or the marriage.
Hale
The next morning finds us in the convention area before the sun has even considered rising. We worked through the interview questions for about an hour the night before, right up until I faked a dramatic yawn and kicked Aksel out of my room. It had still been offensively early, but I couldn’t handle him in my space anymore.
There are only so many suppressants I can take before they stop doing their job, and the last thing I need is to go into heat on camera. That’s not only a scandal, but a career-ending disaster.
Of course, Aksel was standing outside my room waiting for me this morning with two coffees like some kind of smug, blond temptation.
I did my best not to be weird, but my brain was still stuck on last night. On the kiss. On his hands and the way he looked atme like I was the only person in the world. I may or may not have taken matters into my own hands after he left. Several times. Let’s just say my dick is exhausted, but I’m hoping that it helps curb the slick and contact-heat nonsense threatening to ruin my life.
Nadine waves us toward an ornamental loveseat positioned across from an empty chair clearly meant for our interviewer. Everything about the setup screamsintimate.
“This interview isn’t airing live,” Nadine drones, barely looking up from her tablet. “So don’t worry about fucking up. We’ll fix it in post.”
“Comforting as always, Nadine,” Aksel says cheerfully, entirely unbothered by the hellhound’s glowing glare.
After that, things blur together. Someone comes in to wrestle with my hair and apply makeup, promising it’ll look “effortlessly natural” on camera. My hair ends up pulled into a tight bun that feels like half of it was ripped out in the process. Aksel, meanwhile, looks unfairly perfect. His sun-kissed skin was glowing, and his loose blond hair falling artfully across his forehead.
Asshole.
Then she arrives.
The cyclops interviewer sweeps into the room like she owns it, reeking of wilted roses and confidence. Her single eye is aggressively lined with black eyeliner, and her red suit is doing a heroic amount of work holding her gigantic breasts in place. With a quick word to the cameraman, she takes her seat in the empty chair and crosses her short, chubby legs at the knee. The cameraman counts downfromthreeandpointstoletherknowthecamerais rolling. She smiles widely at us, lipstick staining her large, gapped teeth.
“Hello! I’m Cammie Lavine, and I’ll be conducting the interview for Tattoo Spectacle, but you both know that already, I’m sure,” she trills. “You two must be thrilled to tell the world about your surprise Vegas wedding!”
“Over the moon,” Aksel replies smoothly, nailing the tone of genuine enthusiasm with just enough pip in his voice to mask his sarcasm.
