Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 3

Present day…

~NICO~

Yes,I was a masochist. I enjoyed pain. Why else would I lay here shirtless beneath Violet Savoie with her hands on me and unable to move a muscle? She leaned closer, her nearness, her scent, threatening to choke me. I wanted to touch her. What’s new? I always wanted to touch her. But I couldn’t, so I kept my arms and hands limp at my sides—claws threatening to come out—while she tattooed a crescent moon surrounded by mystical stars at the top of my right pec.

Nope, I just lay there dormant as fuck like every brush of her hand and fingers wasn’t utter agony. The pain of the needle while she detailed the shading was a mild but welcome distraction.

I congratulated myself on becoming a fantastic actor since I’d moved to New Orleans. Seriously, I could kick the shit out of some Broadway if I wanted to.

Partnering with Violet was my idea, so no one was to blame but myself. Regardless of the fact that she pretended New Year’s Eve two years ago had never even happened, this was still a great idea. Partnering and investing in Empress Ink allowed me to finally put down roots somewhere.

Sure, I could still move on and monitor the business remotely, but I liked it here in New Orleans. My cousin Mateo, who was more like a brother, was close by. Empress Ink already had a wait-list for clientele, and we hadn’t even officially opened yet. The Savoie family had welcomed me like I was one of their own.

Then there was Violet. Pretty, foul-mouthed Violet. My unhealthy obsession was tempered only by the brick wall she’d erected when I’d moved to New Orleans. Despite the fact that I could tell our attraction was mutual, she’d solidified our status as friends pretty damn fast. But my patience was starting to run out. Becoming her business partner was my newest tactic to get closer to her.

So here I sat, letting her put her hands on me in a very non-sexual way that had my dick harder than a hammer. Still, I was happier here in this chair in our shop than I could ever remember. Just having her near me was a sweet torture I couldn’t live without.

“What happened there?” she asked, butterfly-blue eyes meeting mine as she touched a gloved finger on the side of my ribcage.

Glancing down where her finger had brushed a two-inch scar, I cleared my throat and tried to clear my wayward thoughts. “Happened in Austin.” I didn’t want to admit my flaws, but I wanted there to be honesty between us. To be closer to her. “I got in a fight with this asshole at a bar. Another werewolf. His claws snapped out when he shifted unexpectedly.”

She sat back and scowled at the scar. “He turned wolf and hurt you?”

A tension eased behind my sternum, noting the sincere compassion in her voice. For me. “Well, I did the same. And though I’m not proud of it, I left him with a limp. A bit worse than a little scar.”

Her frown softened, then she smiled. “Good. I’m glad you got payback.”

“Bloodthirsty,” I teased. “I like it.”

She settled back to shading the crescent moon. “If he lashed out first, then he deserved what he got.”

While we stayed in silence, I basked in her concern for me, though I could tell she was mulling this over. Violet liked to analyze things to death, so I knew there’d be a question for me soon enough. I was right.

“So,” she finally said, “your wolf can shift without you really wanting him to?”

I laughed. “Hell, yeah. He’s a fucking beast, Violet. If a werewolf gets angry too quickly, he can shift on a dime. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

She nodded, taking this in. When she stopped to wipe some excess ink away with a cloth, she glanced up at me before returning to her work. “I remember once around the full moon last year you got upset about those guys outside the Cauldron, remember? You half-shifted right there on the street.”

She wasn’t accusing me of anything, but I felt the shame of it nonetheless. I remembered that night. I’d done a gig at the Cauldron and offered to walk Violet home since she’d closed. Usually, JJ did that, but I told him to go on and I’d do it. Obviously, I had an ulterior motive just to spend a little private time with her.

Some dicks, vampires who’d come from the direction of Ruben’s vamp den, The Green Light, were drunk and passed us by. As they did, one muttered he’d like to fuck that witch as he eyed Violet. Pure rage surged through my blood, and I’d snatched the guy by the collar and threw him against the wall before he could blink, my claws out and skin prickling with the fur just beneath, my beast ready to break through and tear him to shreds.

“I remember,” I finally said as she turned off the cordless tattoo machine that was no bigger than an electric razor. “Wish I didn’t.”

“No worries.” She set her machine aside and rolled back to me then wiped the last of the excess ink. “They were being total dicks. But I guess I shouldn’t provoke your wolf?” she teased.

The thought of her trying to draw my wolf out both terrified and aroused me beyond reason.

“Hell, Violet. I wish you could come up with a spell to calm him down.”

I was smiling at her when she jerked, her fingers clenching around my forearm.

“Vi, you okay?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes falling half-closed, her body perfectly still as she seemed to stare at nothing. Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, recognizing the presence of magic. Violet always seemed to hum with energy, but this was stronger, more potent.

I waved a hand in front of her, realizing immediately what was going on. She was having a vision. Something about this vulnerable state, that she was here but unaware of her surroundings, raised my hackles. Not liking her in any unsafe situation, an involuntary growl rumbled in my chest.

She’d told me she had visions sometimes and they came unbidden, but I’d never witnessed it. I didn’t like it. I wanted to haul her into my lap and guard the door at the same time. If anyone walked in, I was sure I’d rip their head off. Metaphorically speaking. Now, if someone tried to hurt her, then I’d literally rip their heads off.

But I did neither. I waited, watching her as patiently as possible, taking advantage only once to run the pad of my finger along her cheek as I tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. I took a moment to admire her sleek hair she was letting grow longer than usual. This was the first time I’d ever seen her natural color. Her hair was platinum blond down to just below her ears, then dyed pale purple to the tips. Yeah, I knew her real color would be the same as her twin sister, Clara, but for some reason it looked different on her. The blonde softened her hard edges.

She came out of it with a sudden, sharp inhale, blinking quickly.

“Are you all right?”

She had a lost look on her face. “Yeah, sorry.” Her voice was gruff, as if she’d just woken up from sleep. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. Your visions are part of who you are.”

Then she blinked up at me with a look of complete elation. “Nico,” she whispered like she had a secret, “my vision was about you.”

“Me?” My heart galloped three times faster.

“Werewolves. What you said about coming up with a spell.” She glanced over her shoulder, then rolled over to her table and poured some disinfectant onto a gauzy pad. As she wiped my new tattoo clean, she kept her voice low as she said, “I’ve been experimenting.”

“With what exactly?”

“My magic and charmed tattoos. It’s experimental right now.” She frowned as she dressed my tattoo with the clear, waterproof tape to protect the new ink for a week. “I mean, I can’t promise anything, but I’ve had a little success so far.”

The excitement in her voice mesmerized me. “And you think you can do what? Tattoo a spell for werewolves?”

“Maybe.” She gazed at me hopefully. “I’d never really thought how bad it was for werewolves and the issue of control. But when you said that, I immediately fell into a vision.”

“What did you see?”

“It sounds crazy.” She laughed. “But it was floating witch sign surrounding a full moon in the clouds. Sometimes, my visions are of actual events to come. Like premonitions. Sometimes they’re messages.”

“Magic messages.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling.

The very idea that she might have the ability to help me control my wolf punched me with a lightning bolt of hope. Ty flashed to mind and what I’d done to him. If Violet was right and she could do this, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing my temper and permanently maiming someone—or worse—ever again.

“If you want to experiment on me, you’re more than welcome to.” I glanced down at my shirtless chest. “I still have quite a bit of available canvas.”

She laughed, her gaze sweeping over my chest. Then the mirth shifted to something darker, sweeter. And there it was again. The same lust I’d seen in her eyes before. It was there for a second, then she blinked it away as always. I wasn’t sure why she was fighting this so hard, but I’d let her fight it a bit longer before I took matters into my own hands.

The outer door opened and the animated voice of Violet’s sister Livvy filled the front lobby. She’d been helping us with the promotion of Empress Ink. The entire shop, which was connected by a courtyard to my own place, was completely open, separated by partitions that didn’t quite reach the ceiling. It had once been a hair salon. Sound carried, but the partitions gave customers some privacy while getting their tattoos.

My major contribution to Empress Ink was the use of this part of the building I now owned. How fortunate that when Violet was actively seeking a place in our neighborhood to lease or buy for her new business, I happened to have one. I stepped in without giving it a second thought. I might’ve had an ulterior motive, but she wasn’t aware of that. For now, that’s how it had to remain.

I also split the monthly expenses, while Violet handled most of the costs for equipment and furnishings. We felt it all evened out so that we could split the profit fifty/fifty once that started. As of now, we were still in the red, but Empress Ink had only been open for two weeks. Our soft opening. We hadn’t even had our grand opening celebration.

Something semi-heavy thumped as it hit the floor in the lobby.

“Let’s go see what’s up.” Violet stood, shucked her latex gloves, and washed her hands in the sink installed along the exposed brick wall.

I picked up my shirt, carrying it loosely as I smoothed a thumb over the transparent tape covering my new tattoo. I was only a few steps from the front lobby, following behind Violet after she sprayed and wiped the chair and equipment down with antibacterial cleaner.

“So, how about we have dinner on Saturday night if you’re free?” Sean Blackwater, all one-hundred and fifty pounds of his tall, lanky seventeen-year-old self was draped over the front counter on his forearms, making sexy eyes at Livvy. Or trying to, anyway.

“Give it a rest, Sean,” grumped Violet. “She’s got a girlfriend.”

Livvy turned, wearing black tights, a purple, faux leather miniskirt and a black blouse that had some kind of sheer fabric over the deep V-back and V-neck. She was a curvy woman who knew how to dress to enhance all her assets. The signature red lipstick didn’t go amiss either. She was the kind of woman that turned heads on the streets.

Sean frowned. “Damn. It’s like that, is it?”

“Actually,” said Livvy to her sister, “Mary and I broke up last week.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Violet gave her a hug. “I haven’t seen you at the house in a few days. I didn’t know.”

Livvy waved a hand in a blasé manner. “No worries. She was sweet. Just didn’t work out.”

“So I don’t stand a chance?” asked Sean, still trying. Poor guy. “I don’t tempt you, even a little?” He waggled his eyebrows and gestured to his wiry, adolescent body.

She smiled. “Darling, though I am attracted to men, too, your grim mojo doesn’t work on me.” Grims were a secretive lot, but one thing everyone knew was that their aura called to a person’s darker urges and impulses. “Grims don’t appeal to my baser instincts. Not usually, anyway.” She mumbled the last under her breath. “Besides, you’re not quite a man just yet.”

“Will you wait for me?” he asked, completely unruffled.

“Not likely,” she said, opening the lid to a large box at her feet. “I’m not very patient.”

Livvy pulled out a black T-shirt from a large stack of the same then held it up to herself and faced us. “Well, what do you think?”

It was the Empress Ink logo she’d designed, a stylized, crowned empress from the Tarot deck. She was winking, her hand gesturing toward the name of the shop in cool script lettering at her feet.

“It looks amazing,” I got out before Violet squealed and launched herself across the room, snatching the T-shirt from her.

“Livvy! I love it.”

“I hope so, because I ordered a shit ton of these T-shirts. I got you a much better price in the larger bulk. I thought we could use them as giveaways for the grand opening or sell them cheap at cost, which would then turn around and act as promo when people wore them around town.”

“Brilliant,” said Violet. “We need pictures!”

“My thoughts exactly.” Livvy held up the camera around her neck before looking at me. “Nico looks like he needs a shirt.” She rummaged in the box and glanced back at me. “Extra-large, I’d say.” She tossed it to me. “Don’t get me wrong, the view is lovely, but I need some shots of you both out front in these.”

“I could take my shirt off for you, Livvy,” offered Sean.

“Don’t bother, darling. You just sit behind the counter and look pretty. And talk less. It’ll bring in more customers.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“For fuck’s sake, Livvy,” said Violet, “stop teasing him.”

“But it’s so fun.” She winked at Sean as she headed outside. “Hurry and put that on, Violet. I’ve got a thing in forty-five minutes.”

It took Violet about thirteen seconds to disappear behind the partition, remove her shirt, and put on the logo T-shirt. Yet again, I lingered and listened to every slight sound of the material moving over her skin as she removed one and slid on the other. Why? As we’ve discussed before, I enjoyed self-torture.

She popped out, seeming surprised to see me, still standing there with the T-shirt in my hand like an idiot.

“What’s wrong? Is the tattoo hurting?”

I sighed, pulling on the logo shirt. “Not the tattoo.”

Sean’s infernal grin as Violet passed out the door caught me by surprise. “Got it bad, eh, wolfie?”

“Shut it, Sean,” I growled, “before you never make it to manhood.”

He cackled then went back to tapping the computer keyboard. I pushed open the door and sidled up to Violet standing right underneath our shop sign. The air was a biting thirty degrees today, a colder day for January in Louisiana. But I shook off the chill for the photo op. And the opportunity to get close to Violet.

“Where do you want us?” she asked, her eyes flashing over her shoulder at me as I drew up behind her.

A sudden spike in her pulse had my wolf fully awake and alert. Now, that was interesting. As if he wasn’t alert whenever she was around anyway.

“Right where you’re at is good,” said Livvy. “Nico, move closer up behind her and a little to the right so more of the logo is showing. Good. Now put your left arm around her shoulder.”

Not a problem. I was really starting to love Livvy. Her photo ops for the social media pages somehow kept throwing Violet and me into close proximity. I anchored Violet to me with a heavy arm over her shoulder.

“Okay. Big smiles.” Click, click, click. “Bigger.” Click.

Livvy pulled the lens down and arched a brow at her sister. “Can you try to not look constipated? You’re happy. You just opened a business. Your dream career, remember?”

I felt Violet’s sigh more than I heard it.

“Yay. I emptied my life savings. So excited. Go, me.” She waved an invisible pom-pom with zero enthusiasm.

“So what you’re saying,” I murmured down to her, still smiling for the camera as Livvy moved to different angles and clicked, “is that you’re now indebted to me forever.”

Violet looked at me over her shoulder, amusement softening her features. “Only until our business takes off like a rocket and I buy you out.”

“Who says I’d sell?”

“I could make you.”

“What? With witch magic? That’s illegal, Miss Savoie.”

“Nah. I’d just get you drunk, then gamble you for it. I’m a shark at poker.”

“Then I’m definitely not playing poker.” I smirked down at her. “I’d think of another game.”

“I’m not playing strip poker with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I pulled her close and bent to her ear, peeking up at Livvy as she still snapped shots. “Limerick war.”

Violet burst out laughing, tossing her head back. I laughed with her, hugging her a little closer. For the camera, of course.

“Oh, yeah. That’s perfect,” said Livvy, snapping a few more.

Violet shook her head and posed, simmering her laughter. “There’s no way I’d bet in a limerick war with you.”

“Because you’d lose.” I tugged on a lock of her light lavender hair.

“So I guess we’re at a stalemate then.”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me.”

“All good, guys. Thanks,” said Livvy, putting the lid back on her camera and sliding it into the case she had dangling from her shoulder. “I’ll have these up on social media ASAP.” She glanced at her Smartwatch. “I’ve gotta run,” she called as she click-clacked on her stiletto boots back to her car at the curb.

Violet glanced up, her expression unreadable. “I’m okay with that.” She pulled out of my embrace and backhanded my abs. I tightened just in time to take the punch. “You’re not so bad.”

I followed her back inside, glancing around for my T-shirt. I’d dropped it on the black sectional sofa that took up the lobby waiting room. I stripped off the logo shirt, careful of my bandage, and picked up the one I was wearing earlier.

“You can keep it,” Violet said with a smile. “You own the place. Or half own it, you know.”

I cleared my throat. “I have to wash new shirts before I wear them,” I grumbled.

“Oh, wow.” Violet beamed like she’d just garnered a state secret. “I had no idea you were a germaphobe.”

I pushed my arms into my long-sleeved T-shirt, pausing to glare at her. “Just because I don’t like to wear shirts that have been handled by machines and ten T-shirt shop workers makes me a germaphobe?”

“This is such an interesting facet of Nico Cruz.”

The shop door opened.

“Whatever.” I scoffed at her mocking tone and pulled the shirt over my head.

A feminine gasp then a plunk.

A pretty brunette stood in the doorway staring at me, a French Truck Coffee to-go cup at her feet, the contents spilling across the floor. Glad we went with the dark stained concrete floors when we remodeled.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.” She squatted quickly to scoop up the cup. That’s when I noticed that her black pencil skirt revealed a leg tattoo of exotic flowers winding beyond her hem. She had another tattoo peeking out of her neckline and a cuff bracelet of ink around her left wrist.

“You must be Lindsey,” I said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

Her mouth dropped open then closed, then open and closed again like a guppy, while she passively shook my hand, her entire neck and face flushed pink. And damn, if her pulse wasn’t racing like a rabbit.

“You okay?” I asked, knowing full well that I flustered the hell out of her, even though I was trying not to.

She was a young witch, a Conduit, like Violet’s sister Isadora. Her healing magic gave her the perfect temperament for soothing clients as she worked on them. Violet had told me she came highly recommended by Zaire who’d met her at a trade convention.

“Let me help you,” said Sean, already there wiping up the mess and taking the empty cup. “Name’s Blackwater.” I bit back a smile as he dropped his voice a few levels.

“His name is Sean, and he’s underage,” said Violet, offering her hand. “Hi, I’m Violet. We spoke on the phone.”

“Lindsey Farmer.” She nodded and beamed a nervous smile. “So nice to meet you in person.”

“And this is Nico Cruz. My partner.”

Her gaze swiveled back to me. “You’re my boss?” she breathed out in disbelief.

Her pulse triple-timed. Oh, right. It wasn’t my being a werewolf that had her heartbeat racing. She licked her lips nervously and kept darting her gaze away.

“We both are,” said Violet more emphatically.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cruz,” said Lindsey, beaming a smile at me.

“And you.” I nodded, returning a polite smile.

“Nico, I’ve got this. I’ll give her the tour. You can be on your way.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Violet was trying to get rid of me.

“You sure? I could stay and help out. Show Lindsey how to use the new stencil machine.”

I’d bought the latest high-tech machine for the shop and had trained myself on it first.

“I can show her,” she snapped before haughtily turning away toward the partition. “This way, Lindsey. I’ll show you to your station. You can meet our other artist, Tom, tomorrow,” she continued, walking away.

I ignored Lindsey’s lingering stare as she slowly followed after Violet. My attention was riveted on the perturbed set of my partner’s shoulders. And that fine, perky ass of hers that somehow looked even better when she was irritated or pissed off.

“You need me for anything else?” I asked, pushing her buttons on purpose.

“Nope. You can go,” she called over her shoulder.

“Cool. I’ve got a gig at the Cauldron and want to rest and get cleaned up.”

“You’re in a band?” Lindsey had stopped following Violet, which Violet finally realized, spinning around and propping a hand on her hip.

“Not a band,” she spat like it was a criminal idea. “He plays acoustic guitar at a few spots around town. No big deal.”

“You do?” she asked, all breathy and still focused on me, not Violet who walked back over to her and was growing more annoyed by the second. “I’d love to see you play. I’m free tonight.”

I turned to Violet, enjoying the tension around her eyes as she glared at Lindsey. “Violet, why don’t you bring her to the Cauldron tonight? She’s new in town and could use some friendly faces.”

Violet’s fire-blue eyes snapped to me, then she cleared her throat. “Sure. Sounds good.” Then she turned back toward the stations, all business. “Follow me, Lindsey, and I’ll show you your setup.”

I shook my head as I left through the back hallway that connected to my private courtyard and led to my two-story house. I had no idea why but that entire scene had me smiling. Perhaps it was because underneath all of Violet’s rough handling and no-nonsense attitude toward Lindsey, I detected a tiny spark of jealousy.

If that were true, then maybe the torture wasn’t one-sided. That would be a revelation. There was only one way to find out.