Chapter Three

Micah shot up, nearly falling out of the bed. Everything was blurry beyond recognition. He cussed under his breath as he groped at his face. Had things really gotten that fucking bad? The blackouts were bad enough. The near constant migraines drove him insane. But now his vision was completely fucked?

He chuckled when he found his glasses missing. He didn’t remember taking them off. He slapped around his surroundings until his palm struck the cold, hard laminate of the end table. The arm of his glasses scraped his fingers. He picked them up and slipped them over his eyes.

He glanced around the empty motel room. Only his things were scattered around on the furniture. The beautiful woman he spent the night with was gone. He frowned as he thought. What was her name? Eve? She must have taken my glasses off me.

The thought of her made his cock stiffen. He had never felt pleasure like that before. And he wanted more. It was a drug, an insatiable hunger that tore at his soul. Was this what having sex was like? The undying need for more every second of the day?

The piercing sound of a boxing ring bell tore Micah off the mattress to find his jeans. He dug in the pocket and pulled his cell free to answer it. “Yeah, Joe.”

“Where the fuck are you?” Josiah demanded. “We’re about to head home.”

Micah glanced around the room once again. “That sleazy motel across the street from the strip club. Right next to the highway.”

“Shit, man. There are closer places to the club than that. Or you could have stayed in the truck. Why the fuck did you stay in that rat trap?”

Micah ran a large hand through his hair. “It’s…complicated.”

There was silence for a moment. “Are you shitting me? Is my baby brother no longer a virgin?”

“You know, you can be just as bad as Caleb.”

“Only on particularly good nights. Which last night was. Do you need some time for one last goodbye?”

Micah tossed his jeans on the bed and then stormed across the room to the vanity for his T-shirt. How the hell it got there he would never know. He bent down to scoop it up and rose, pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear to balance it. He threaded one arm through a sleeve and wiggled to do the same with the other.

A spot of black on his shoulder caught his eye. His heart jumped into his throat. It can’t be. He took a deep breath and turned his back to the mirror.

“Mike, what’s going on?” Josiah asked.

“What do you mean?” Micah mumbled as his eyes explored the image in the mirror. The detail was incredible. But then again, so was Caleb's. It was less floral than his little brother’s and ran from his shoulder to his waist and from spine to rib. Just like the others, there were claw marks in the center of the artwork. Micah swallowed hard. The intense pull that drew him to Eve made sense now.

He was marked. He was mated. He closed his eyes as he groaned. How was he going to explain to his mother and brothers that his mate for life was a hooker?

“Micah!”

“No, I’m fine. Come get me. She’s already gone.”

“Be there in five minutes.”

“Great. See you then.”

Micah ended the call and then tossed the phone on the bed. He finished pulling his shirt on and then tugged on his briefs and jeans. He grabbed a boot and jammed his foot into it. It met resistance. He pulled his foot free and reached inside. He studied the handful of cash in his hand. Slowly he counted the bills. Every dollar he paid her was there. He sighed as he tucked the wad in his pocket and put his boots on.

He stepped outside as Josiah, Samuel, and Joshua sped into the lot. Josiah rolled down the driver’s side window and grinned at Micah. “Ready to go, lover boy?”

“Let me turn the key in and settle the bill. Be back in a second.” Micah huffed as he shuffled across the parking lot to the office. He bit back his temper to deal with the sleazeball who ran the place. Once everything was settled, he climbed into the passenger seat.

He was met by his brothers’ stares. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Was she good?” Joshua asked.

“Seriously, grow up.”

“Were you good?” Samuel responded. “It was your first time and all. How much fumbling did you do?”

“It’s none of your fucking business. What did you fucking do?” Micah demanded.

Samuel shuffled uncomfortably. “I got laid. Nothing more.”

“Did you get her number?” Josiah asked.

Micah stared at the strip club across the street. The place looked deserted. He sighed, his eyes never leaving the building. He had no idea where she lived. He couldn’t contact her. But she was his mate for eternity. “Nope. Not a big deal. Let’s just get home.”

He kept his gaze trained to the strip club until it faded from sight.

»»•««

Eve couldn’t sleep. She tried, but it just wouldn’t come. She couldn’t stop thinking about her hottie. She smiled as she sighed. Micah. That’s all she knew about him, his name. He could be a serial killer. He could be married with four kids. All she knew was that he was crazy great in bed. Her body was still trembling from the sheer ecstasy he showed her.

She heard the front door of her apartment open and slam shut. She bounced her head back and forth on the pillow in time with the heavy objects set on the table.

“Eve, are you up?” a feminine voice cried out.

“Yeah, Tabitha. I’m in my room,” Eve shouted back.

The footsteps approached her bedroom door. It was thrown open. A blonde dressed in the skimpiest waitressing uniform ever sewn stood there. Eve cocked her head at her.

“Rough night?” Eve asked.

“Drunks at the club down the street. I guess a couple of those MMA fighters everyone is so crazy about showed up. Those Hallow brothers. Ever heard of them? Anyway, it was a lot of testosterone trapped in one building for a bunch of women looking to get fucked. It was mass chaos. So, of course, it trickled down to the diner. How was yours?”

Eve grinned at her. “Same old shit, different day.”

“That smile doesn’t say same old shit. So spill. Either you got great tips or Deacon set you up with great dope.”

“It’s really nothing.” Eve threw her covers off and climbed off the mattress. She padded across her bedroom to the door but stopped dead in her tracks when Tabitha stayed anchored in her spot.

“Where are you going?” Tabitha questioned. Eve knew the smile on her face. It bordered between amusement and seduction. Granted, Eve was as straight as they came. So was Tabitha. But in moments of weakness, usually when they were drunk or high, the flirting grew intense. They never had sex with each other. But they did get dangerously close to it.

“I’m going to take a piss then find something to eat. So it’d be great if you’d let me out of my room.”

“Sure, baby.” Tabitha moved just enough to let Eve slip by. As Eve passed, she felt Tabitha’s fingertips brush her ribcage. Eve always loved this closeness with Tabitha, even if they weren’t hot for each other at the moment. It was the closest thing she had ever had to love. When her roommate did this before, it made Eve strongly consider abandoning food and personal hygiene for more of her caresses.

This time Tabitha’s touch made her stomach lurch. Eve swallowed hard and continued walking away into the kitchen.

Tabitha leaned against the doorframe. A growl escaped her throat. “What’s wrong with you? When I touch you I usually get a kiss at least.”

“I’m hungry,” Eve lied.

“Well, then. When did Deacon relax his policy on tattoos?”

“Why are you fucking drilling me? You don’t have to know about every breath I take. Deacon hasn’t changed anything. He probably never will. Clean skin. No blemish, natural or otherwise.”

“You are a stupid shit for getting one then. Fuck, Eve. You’re twenty grand in debt to him. Do you want to die? Is that why you got it? If you’re dead, he’s coming after me.”

“I didn’t get a tattoo.”

Tabitha shook her head. “Whatever.”

Eve felt her nerves shake in rage. Tabitha had been petty and vengeful before but never like this. “Fine. If I supposedly have a tattoo, where is it?”

“Take a look at your back. Fuck, you’re an idiot. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“I’m not the idiot. You’re delusional.” Eve stormed to her room and slammed the door. She stared at her full-length mirror mounted to the back of the door for a moment before she turned around. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only stare at the black tribal tattoo that ran from her shoulder to her waist and from her spine to her ribs. Inside of it was what looked like animal claw marks. It was beautiful.

But Tabitha was right. She was dead woman walking. Deacon wouldn’t fire her. He wouldn’t beat her either.

He’d kill her. Her blood would paint the floor of the strip club. She was useless to him if she couldn’t pay off her debt. He didn’t tolerate useless.

She flew out of her room in her tank top and pajama pants. Picking up her purse, she directed her steps toward the door. As she touched the knob, she heard a voice shout at her. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Eve shook her head as she tore open the door and hurried down the apartment corridor.

She pulled her phone from her purse once she reached her motorcycle. She patted it affectionately before she used the device’s web browser. Of course, it sucked to drive her bike when the weather was starting to get colder. Winter would be here soon. But she didn’t care. She loved her bike. It was the first big thing she bought with her own money. It was her first responsible adult purchase. She didn’t deny it. It was a piece of shit that didn’t run when she got it. It took months to rebuild it. She bought a part a week until it was finished. Now it purred like a kitten.

She smiled as she found what she was looking for. Across from the diner where Tabitha worked was a tattoo parlor that also offered removal. It looked like it was the only establishment of its kind in Duluth. If this place didn’t work for some reason, she’s have to head for the Twin Cities. I’d rather not. She hopped on the motorcycle and sped down the street toward downtown.

The tattoo shop was dark enough inside that the sunshine streaming in from outside hardly made a difference. A couple of guys dressed in T-shirts and jeans lounged on a leather sofa. A faint buzz came from the back of the shop.

Eve glanced around uneasily. “Who do I need to talk to about removing a tattoo?”

The man closest to the door thumbed toward the back. “Roscoe is with our buddy. He shouldn’t be long. Sit. Take a load off.”

Eve forced a smile on her face as she settled in an overstuffed chair. She glanced away to avoid the two men's stares. She knew she danced nude for money. It didn’t mean she was comfortable being leered at constantly. Men made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with one. Well, maybe Micah. For the love of fuck, Eve. You need to let him go. Yeah, last night was a thrill. Yes, you’re still aching for him. Get over it.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Eve turned to find a heavily tattooed man as old as her dad would have been if he were alive. His bushy red hair stood straight up on end.

Eve rose, clutching her purse to her. “I need a tattoo removed.”

“Bad decision, huh?” Roscoe winked at her. “Where is it?”

Eve turned and instinctively held up her tank top. Roscoe let out a low whistle. “Man, girl. That’s going to take forever. And I hope you’ve got money. It’s going to be expensive.”

“I need it gone in two days.”

“It’ll take longer than two days. Why did you get something that big if you hate it?”

Eve shook her head. “I don’t know how it got there. I didn’t sit for it. Last night it wasn’t there. Now it is. I need this gone now. I’ll be dead if it’s not gone. My boss will kill me.”

“You could have it cut off.”

“Seriously?”

“Lady, you’re overreacting. So you have a tattoo. Wear a shirt. No one will know.”

“It’s not that simple. Do you know who Deacon Ravens is?”

Roscoe’s amused smile faded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, I work for Deacon. And it’s in a capacity that doesn’t allow me to wear a shirt. I owe him a lot of money. I’m not marketable with this tattoo. So please. Help me.”

Roscoe stared at her for a moment and then sighed. “My next client doesn’t come in for a couple of hours. Come on back. Let’s see what we can do.”

Eve followed him back and waited anxiously as Roscoe prepared a spot for her. Once he was ready, he handed her a pair of eye shields. He motioned to the table. “You’re going to have to take your shirt off.”

Eve tugged her tank top over her head and tossed it on her purse that she set on the floor. She notices Roscoe’s eyes widen as his gaze fixed on her bare breasts. “I’m a stripper. It doesn’t faze me.”

“Go ahead and lie down,” he instructed. “With any luck, whoever did this used shitty ink and it’ll come right up.”

“Yeah,” Eve muttered. “Let’s hope so.”

Eve climbed onto the table and stretched out face down. She slipped the shield over her eyes and then braced herself. She heard the sound of the machine. She felt the touch of latex against her skin.

The seething pain of the laser’s pulse nearly tore her off the table. She clenched her fingers around the sides as she whimpered.

“If that sort of pain affects you like that, how did you sit through something this large and ornate?” Roscoe questioned.

“I told you. I don’t remember getting it,” Eve answered.

Eve cringed as he kept talking. “I don’t know how you could forget something like that. It’s multiple sittings. It’s hours of…holy shit.”

She frowned. “What is it?”

“Lady, it’s not coming off. I’ve gone over a couple spots a time or two. Nothing. I’ve removed some deep tattoos. At least they fade a bit. It isn’t fading. This thing is stuck on by fucking voodoo.”

“There has to be something.”

Roscoe pushed his chair away from the table and set his tool down. “Yeah. Cut it off. But I fucking bet you it’ll still be there. I don’t know what bad karma you got yourself into but sweetie, you’re fucked. Sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

Eve sat up, wrapping a protective arm around her breasts. She pulled her tank top on as fast as she could. “Thanks for trying.”

“Wish I could have done more.”

She bit her lower lip to drive back a sob until she was outside in the crisp autumn sunshine. Then she let loose, collapsing to the sidewalk as she cried. She didn’t know how she got the ink. She couldn’t get rid of it.

Everyone was right. She was fucked. And she was going to die.

»»•««

Micah slowly crawled out of bed and stretched. Two days had passed since his night with Eve. He thought about her every second. The burning desire drove him insane. The second he returned to the camp he packed a bag. Rational thought demanded he cool his jets, find a way to talk to his family about the new addition to their family. But logic and common sense were driven out by the desperate need to mate. Relief would only be found buried deep inside Eve. He didn’t give a shit how much it would cost him.

He grabbed the keys to his Jeep and stormed across the camp to his vehicle. That’s when it happened. A driving pain filled his brain. His vision vanished, leaving his world pitch black. He felt to his knees as he heaved into the grass. The migraines always made him vomit. It was only moments before he felt hands grip him to help him up. Whoever it was helped him back to his cabin. From there, blind or not, Micah could take care of himself. His cabin held minimal furniture so he could maneuver when one of these hit. Generally, these episodes only lasted a few minutes, no more than an hour.

This one lasted over a day. Once he cleaned himself up, he crawled into bed to wait it out. It only took a moment to find his swollen cock. It was a poor replacement to the black haired beauty, but it took the edge off.

Being blind and grounded to his bed gave him time to think. There was no doubt Eve bore the same mark as he did. He half expected for her to show up like Meg did and call him out. That was if she knew anything about him. He had no idea how he was going to explain it to her. If she was freaking out about the mark, she was going to flip shit when she found out he was a werewolf.

Part of him wanted to talk to his brothers to get advice. Knowing them, they would go get her for him. Once they found out she was a stripper and hooker, that would come to a halt. The only one who might understand would be Caleb. That asshole would get a chuckle out of the whole thing.

But now his eyesight was back, and the headache retreated to a slight buzz. He quickly dressed, carefully fastening his jeans around his erection. He grabbed his already packed bag and then headed out of his cabin in the direction of the Jeep.

“Micah!”

Micah stopped dead in his tracks and sighed. Momma. He loved his mother and would do anything for her. She’d nursed him back to health after his accident and was there for every blackout. His brothers were right. He was a Momma’s boy. But right now was a horrible time for one of her faux emergencies.

With a huff, he redirected his steps toward her cabin and let himself inside. He found his mother standing in front of her golden framed mirror that hung in her living room. He glanced around the room. All of Momma’s things, from furniture to trinkets, were antiques. Her furnishings were very similar to her sisters’ house in Bemidji. The only difference was that Momma’s style was light and flowery, while Edith and Edna preferred the feel of a funeral home.

“Yes, Momma. What do you need?” Micah asked.

She held a necklace up to her neck to admire it. It was a large ruby bordered in gold. Etched into the gold was a language no one could read. It hung by a gold chain. It was nothing fancy but still amazingly beautiful. She reached behind to fasten it but then dropped her hands in a huff. “Could you fasten this necklace for me, sweetheart? I can’t seem to get it. Your Papa stole it from Grandpa Atticus so he could sell it when he rescued me. But I fell in love with it, so he gave it to me. It’s sort of my engagement ring.”

Micah strode across the living room and took it from her. He draped it across her chest and then studied the clasps. “I know, Momma. You’ve told us this story a thousand times. Here’s the problem. The clasp is broken.”

He saw Momma’s face fall in the reflection in the mirror. “Oh, goodness no.”

The wheels turned in his mind. He smiled at her. “It’s not an issue. I’ll take it into the city for you to get it fixed.”

“But that’s such a long drive.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Anything for you, Momma. Besides, it hasn’t seen a jeweler in decades. It could use a good cleaning.”

She hugged him and then shooed him to the door. “You’re a good boy, Micah Hallow.”

“A good woman raised me.”

She blushed at his words as she waved goodbye. Micah jumped into his Jeep and fired on the engine. He slipped the necklace into his pocket just before he shifted into gear and flew down the lane leading into the woods.