Page 6 of Canvas’ Muse

"Saint's our medic but he's out on a run. He'll be twenty, maybe thirty minutes getting back to the clubhouse."

"Thirty minutes?" Eden's eyes flash to mine, and I can see the calculation happening: how much blood I can lose in thirty minutes, whether I'll make it that long. "Is there anyone closer?"

"No. Saint's the only one with the training." Phoenix's voice is grim. "Can you keep him stable until then?"

"I can try. But I'm a nurse, not a surgeon, and this is a gunshot wound. If he starts showing signs of serious shock or if the bleeding doesn't slow—"

"Do what you can. I'll make sure Saint gets there as fast as possible."

The call ends. Eden sets the phone aside and grabs an elastic bandage from the kit, wrapping my shoulder.

"Who were they?" she asks, taping the bandage in place. "Do you know?"

"No idea." It's not exactly a lie. I don't know for certain it was the Vipers, even if every instinct says it was. "Could be anyone."

"Anyone with multiple motorcycles and automatic weapons who decided to shoot up a tattoo studio in the middle of the afternoon?" She's not buying it, but she doesn't push. "You need to stay conscious. Can you do that?"

"Yeah." Probably. Maybe.

She grabs the blanket from the back of the chair and drapes it over my shoulders. "You're going into shock. This will help with the temperature regulation. Just breathe. Stay with me."

I'm trying. The room keeps wanting to tilt sideways, and there's a ringing in my ears that won't stop. Eden's face swims in and out of focus: those bright blue eyes, the eyebrow piercing that matches mine, the streak of my blood on her cheek that she doesn't seem to notice.

"Talk to me," she says, crouching in front of me, her hands on my knees. "Stay focused. Tell me something. Anything."

"You're still in your underwear," I manage.

She laughs. "Yeah, well. Wasn't exactly time to get dressed while people were shooting at us."

The words are getting harder to form. Everything's getting harder. "You should've run. When it started. Should've—"

"Shut up." Her hand cups my face, forcing me to look at her. "You covered me. You used your body as a shield. You took that bullet for me."

"Instinct."

"Bullshit." Her thumb brushes my cheekbone, and even through the pain and the shock, I feel it. "You could have grabbed your gun, shot back. I'm sure you have one hidden somewhere here. But you covered me instead. Why?"

*Because I couldn't let anything happen to you. Because in the two and a half hours I spent tattooing your thigh, I started falling for you, and I didn't want to admit it to myself until bullets were flying.*

"Couldn't let you get hurt," I say instead, "You're still a client that might come back for another tattoo"

"Well, I'm not letting you die. So, we're even."

Chapter 3 - Eden

This cannot be real.

This cannot actually be happening.

I'm kneeling on the floor of a tattoo studio in my underwear, watching a man I barely know fight to stay conscious after taking a bullet that was probably meant for both of us.

The front of the studio is destroyed. I can hear glass crunching under debris, can smell gunpowder and something burning.

This was supposed to be a simple tattoo appointment. In and out. Get my dragon, admire Canvas's work, maybe flirt a little more than necessary, go home.

Instead, someone shot up the building with what sounded like automatic weapons, and Canvas used his body as a shield without hesitation.

For me. A stranger. A client he'd known for less than three hours.