Isabella watched the mountain lion correct her drawing. Her eyes ran over his sleek, muscular form. He was an impressive specimen for one of his kind—tall, broad at the shoulders and slim at the waist. He had a wild riot of blond hair that waved around his face when he spoke and crystal blue eyes, the color of the clear sky after the rain. 

He’d tried to hide the erection he’d been sporting when she walked in the door, but he’d done a lousy job of it. For one thing, it would be hard to hide something that…big. For all his six foot three stature, he obviously had a cock to match.

Isabella frowned. She longed for the feel of a man’s skin against hers and the thrust of his cock between her legs. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a little one-on-one with the tattoo artist. Copulation between her kind and his was looked down on by most of the vampire covens. In hers, it was outright banned. Living in Mystic Harbor, a town practically overrun by shifters, the taboo against intermixing with shifters had become a law.

She’d been away from home for twenty years, hiding out from her father in Spain among the ancient ruins of their ancestral home. With her motorcycle and the ability to nourish herself with human food, she’d been able to blend right in. Her vampire side had called her home, to her father. Her human mother had long since departed this world, and she was alone to navigate her half-breed existence on her own.

She hated her father’s rules. She hated that he looked down on her for being what she was. Half-breed. Weak. She didn’t even need blood, though she could drink it with the best of them.

The lion, Ashton Harding, sighed and picked up his sketch. She wanted the tattoo as a reminder of what she was. Immortal. Bloodsucker. Vampire. She couldn’t get away from it, even if she wanted to. If she’d been human, she most likely already be dead.

“What do you think of that?” he asked her, presenting a far bloodier, more gruesome design. She smiled, showing her fangs.

“Perfect,” she purred, winking at him. He pursed his lips, looking annoyed. She enjoyed getting under this one’s skin. Why? She didn’t know. Usually, she chewed up and spit out men without a thought. Maybe it was the taboo, the law forbidding intermingling with shifters, that got her going. She wanted to bait the lion, tease him, and tempt him into her trap. That would serve her father right for treating her like a second-class citizen for a hundred years. If he didn’t want half-breed children, he shouldn’t fuck humans. Period. End of story. 

She smiled at Ashton and ran her finger up his taut forearm that was lined with intricate tattoos of mountain lions amongst forest groves and ocean waves. Interesting. She wondered if he looked like that shifted.

He glanced at her, stunned, his erection climbing up inside his pants again. She cocked her head and grinned. “Should we do this?”

Ashton cleared his throat, sweat breaking on his brow. “Yes. Right over here. This is a back tattoo, correct?”

“Yes.”

He messed with the chair and flattened it out to a little bed. “Go ahead and take off your shirt and lie down,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. Isabella chuckled inwardly. She had him right where she wanted him. She pulled off her leather jacket and the tight tank top, revealing her lacy black bra underneath. Her generous curves popped out from under the tight shirt, bouncing slightly in front of his eyes. His mouth dropped, and he picked it back up, turning away to arrange his inks.

She slid over the faux leather chair, her round ass curving up toward the ceiling inside her tight, black leather pants. He turned back, his hands covered in rubber gloves, his eyes wide with desire. She could feel him scan her body. Her skin tingled as his eyes burned over her luscious form.

“This is going across the entire back, correct? From the shoulders to lower back area?”

“That’s right,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. He brought the stencil and sat down beside her on his stool. “Unhook your bra, please,” he said, business like. Isabella pouted. He was getting his control back. She leaned backward and unhooked her bra, the straps spilling over her shoulders as she laid back down on the chair.

He placed the stencil on her back. She could feel his hands press against her flesh. Enticing. She’d sworn off men three years ago after a bad experience with a full-blooded vampire. Maybe this hot-blooded lion was just the thing to get her going again. She bit her lips as he pressed the design into her skin.

“Take a look,” he said, handing her a mirror as he held a second one over her back. She could see the stencil on her skin through her mirror. It looked good. Skulls, daggers, blood, death. Just want she wanted.

“Perfect,” she said, handing him back the mirror. Her breast slipped out of her bra cup, showing off her round, rosy nipple. Ashton’s eyes caught on the sight and then he looked away as quickly as possible.

Isabella fixed herself and laid prone on the tattoo chair, waiting for Ashton Harding to poke her with his needle all day long.